“Iris, we need to talk,” Peter said.
“We already talked. What else is there to say?”
“Meet me. Have some lunch with me. That’s it. I’ll send a car to pick you up.”
***
Peter arrived first. He was closer to the location than she. He was anxious to talk to her. He needed to tell her — she deserved to know about Sara and the baby. He had no idea how to do it, though. He’d rehearsed the words over and over in his head and none seemed quite right. None seemed to convey the complexity of what he had to tell her. But he knew it was time to do so.
He was surprised by the way it felt to see Iris again. Not just because she looked good — which she did. He was stunned by her — and by the fact that his feelings for her hadn’t changed.
He also liked looking at her. One of the reasons why he had arrived early was so he could watch her walk in. She was a sight to see, breathtaking.
He ordered two coffees. He picked the table by a window in the front of the restaurant, mainly so that she’d see him when she walked in.
***
Iris arrived at Yolk. When she pulled the door open, she saw Peter sitting by the window. She moved toward the table.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she said, noticing he’d already ordered for her. She could smell him over the aroma of the coffee — he smelled good.
“Wow, you look ravishing. New dress?”
She nodded. “Yes, all of my clothes are new. I had to start over, remember?”
All she wanted was for Peter to get to the point. Why did he need to meet with her in person, forcing her to endure his devastating smile, hard body and hypnotic eyes?
Confessions. Redemption. For several months, she’d hoped for reconciliation, but seeing him like this, in this environment, in this light, brought back all the hard memories — the pain, the loneliness, the rejection.
She toyed with asking him why? Why did he leave? What happened? But she feared she’d sound desperate, insecure and needy. She wanted him to have the impression that she didn’t care one way or the other, that he was inconsequential.
And even though she was forced to stare into his probing brown eyes, watching him lick his lips when he thought they were a little dry, noticing his muscles flex when he lifted his cup to his mouth, she saw that he was contrite, as he should have been. She sipped her tepid coffee.
“When I said I want us to have a second chance,” he began, “I meant at being civil toward one another. We once loved and respected each other enough to get married. Why shouldn’t we be able to have a decent relationship now that we aren’t married?”
She nearly spat out her coffee. What a crock. He was testing her a few days ago to see how she’d respond. She knew Peter. She understood how his mind worked.
“Why now, Pea? I mean, I’ve moved on and you’ve clearly moved on. We really don’t have any reason to be civil or even in contact.”
He got up and sat beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, caressing her earlobe. He kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear.
“Not having you in my life makes it seem meaningless.”
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to accept that he’d seen the light, that he’d had his burning bush moment.
21
Forget her. That’s what Preston kept telling himself. Don’t think about her. Stay away and no calls. Simple. Straightforward. Concise. Yet, it was probably the hardest thing he’d ever attempted to do.
He loved Iris. He knew ever since their first date that he wanted to spend the rest of his life looking at her, laughing with her, loving her. She was the best thing that’d ever happened to him.
Now, because of Peter, because of the unwritten social rule about brothers’ and friends’ exes being off limits, Preston felt he could no longer be a part of her life. It was the right thing to do.
He tied his running shoes and started out to break in his brand new bike. He rode until he reached the lakefront trail then locked his bike on the rack and ran meditatively for miles. His mind was on only one thing — Iris. He missed her. He needed her. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of Iris’ building on Chestnut, contemplating ringing the buzzer. He just wanted to see her, maybe talk to her.
But he didn’t buzz her. He jogged down Michigan Avenue, still trying to work things out in his head. He hadn’t known her long — surely he could put her behind him and move on.
As he ran along, he saw her sitting in Yolk, holding hands with Peter. He stopped and stood, staring in the window, befuddled. Peter got up and sat beside her, caressing her ear. Preston stumbled back when he watched Peter kiss her. She didn’t resist. He stood there frozen, glowering.
He put both his hands on the top of his head and bent over as if someone had hit him in the stomach. A couple of kids on skateboards rode by, forcing him to move. When he looked up, Iris’ eyes connected with his.
He turned on his heels and jogged back to his bike then returned to the hotel. He stood at the window looking out at his magnificent view — alone.
***
Iris ran out of the restaurant but Preston was gone. She stomped her foot and threw her body in a twist of disappointment. Peter ran out after her. He rested his hands on her shoulders but she pulled away from him.
“I don’t know why I agreed to meet with you, Peter. You’ve been nothing but trouble and heartache for me. Just go away. Leave me alone.”
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Tell me something, Peter.”
“Okay…”
“Why did you divorce me? I want the truth.”
“I was stupid, that’s why.”
She shook her head violently. He was stupid but that’s not the answer she was looking for.
“I see you’re not going to be honest with me. I was a fool to think you would be.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Iris.”
“Nothing. I want nothing from you. You’ve done enough to screw up my life. Just leave me alone.”
She rushed to the street to hail the cab that was approaching.
***
“Nadine, I need a drink.”
“Okay. Want to go shopping?”
“No. I want to drink.”
“Meet me at the boat. I’m on my way.”
Iris closed her eyes, so irritated with Peter she could hardly breathe. Things had been going just fine in her life with Preston until Peter showed up. She was pissed that she had accepted Peter’s invitation to meet at Yolk. First of all, Peter had no intention of being honest. Secondly, his feeble attempt at burying the hatchet only infuriated her even more.
She arrived at the NADINE and waited at the locked gate for her friend to arrive. The ducks were walking by scavenging for crumbs. She sat on the bench next to the harbor convenience store, biting her thumbnail.
When Nadine arrived, they boarded the boat. Nadine had no inkling of how to navigate the boat, so they remained docked at the harbor. It was still nice and peaceful, though. They sat in the lounging chairs, soaking up the sun.
“I was thinking of going to one of those AA meetings,” Iris said.
“No. Those are terrible.”
“Why?”
“Do you think it’s helpful for a bunch of people who are in the same boat to congregate together and share sad stories of why they are such pitiful losers?”
“I wouldn’t call them pitiful losers. I mean, you and I are also alcoholics — that would make us one of them.”
“I will never be one of them. And neither will you. You don’t need those meetings. If you want to talk to someone, hire a professional. Go to a shrink.”
“I can’t believe I fell for Peter’s crap again.”
“I can’t believe that you’re still talking about it. Face it, the man doesn’t love you. Get over it. You’re seeing someone who does love you. Focus on him.”
“I would, if he hadn’t left me.”
Nadine laughed.
“
What’s so funny?”
“The man left you because you’re so miserable right now. Chin up, child. Put on that pretty smile and hold your chest high. Nobody likes being around a sour puss. I know. I’ve been there.”
They sat quietly, sipping lemonade and soaking up the sun. Nadine turned on the music and they relaxed the remainder of the afternoon.
22
It was day eight since Preston had walked out on Iris and she paced back and forth wishing she didn’t have to decide to let him go. She thought she’d give it one more try before giving up. She called him, but her call was routed to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message.
There was a concert playing at Millennium Park. She got all gussied up and put on her best pair of flat sandals. When she arrived, the park was packed. For a group that was virtually unknown, there was a huge turnout. The atmosphere was informal, of course, but most people were dressed to the nines. That was Chicago for you.
Iris moved with a confident elegance as she made her way across the grass to find a place to sit. Her orange dress clung to her body in the heat. Without realizing it, she passed within a few inches of Preston who was standing near the beer vendor. She smelled his cologne and her heart nearly stopped. She looked back and there he was — staring at her.
He didn’t try to move closer or even speak, but it was clear that he noticed her and she wondered if she should acknowledge him. A couple got up and passed in front of her, blocking Preston from her view. When they passed, Preston was gone. She turned, searching desperately for him, but she didn’t see him in the crowd of people.
She found a spot to sit, although she kept looking around, hoping to find Preston. The music was loud, reverberating through her body. It made her want to move, dance, and be free. It had a funky beat — that white boy kind of funk — stringy and electric, synthesized. Suddenly she thought she smelled him again and turned, but he wasn’t there. She laughed at herself for being so silly. The man had walked out of her life and when he saw her only minutes ago, he had said nothing and walked away again. Why would she want that in her life after all that she’d been through with Peter?
She glanced around one more time, then gave up.
23
It was day ten and Iris’ burning flame for Preston was now barely a flicker. She’d awakened at four thirty in the morning and realized that it was time for her to face the fact that she and Preston were over. She wasn’t sure why it had taken her so long to come to this conclusion.
She rolled out of bed and dragged her feet down the hallway to Idris’ room. She knew he’d be a comfort to her. She opened his door and peered in. He was awake, but not alone. The woman’s moans of pleasure were soft but evident. Iris quickly and quietly closed the door.
In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of hot tea and sat at the window overlooking the city’s skyline. It was a terrific view. She heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen. It was Idris and Jess. Idris was naked, Jess was wrapped in a sheet. They were both startled to see Iris sitting in the kitchen.
“Well, since the gang’s all here, would you like me to cook breakfast? I’m hungry but didn’t think it was practical to just prepare something only for myself.”
Idris walked to Iris and kissed her on the lips. He squatted onto the chair across the table from Iris.
“What’s wrong? Why are you up so early?” Idris asked.
“Idris, why don’t you go put on some clothes?” Jess suggested, firmly.
“What is it with people obsessing about clothes?” Iris asked.
Idris shrugged, but he got up to put on a robe. He didn’t want Jess to be uncomfortable.
“Something bothering you, Iris?” Jess asked.
“Preston.”
“You still haven’t heard from him?”
She shook her head.
“Screw him. There are other fish in the sea. You’re a gorgeous woman, and Chicago is full of good-looking men.”
“You’re right. There are a lot of men here. But, I’m partial to Preston.”
“Girl, if he doesn’t want you, don’t put any energy into wanting him. I tell you what, why don’t we go to the concert in the park — just you and me. You can snag yourself a new guy.”
Iris sighed.
24
After she cooked breakfast for Jess and Idris, Iris headed out for a run — something she hadn’t done in a while. The air was moist from the earlier rain. Her footsteps splattered the puddles as she jogged along Rush Street.
She stopped at the corner and texted Camden while she waited for the light to change.
Iris: Cam. Wassup?
Cam: You got it.
Iris: Need love.
Cam: Go get it.
Iris: Hugs.
Cam:
***
Iris arrived at Preston’s suite disheveled and flustered. He’d just gotten out of the shower and was walking around in his boxer briefs, bulging through them. His chest was glistening wet. His dreadlocks, damp. When he saw her, he seemed at once excited and peeved.
She walked to him and kissed him. She knew how to tame his anger. But he apparently didn’t want to be tamed because he pushed her away.
She grabbed him by the arm as he attempted to walk away from her. Her brown eyes stared seductively into his. She grasped her bottom lip between her teeth and pulled his body next to hers. They stood pressed together, fixed, wanting. Their hearts beat in tempo, their eyes closed, seeing only by touch… feeling the tenderness of each other’s touch.
Kissing his lips, his cheeks — her tongue traced the curve of his jaw. His kisses were raw, primal — their tongues plunging.
He pushed her away.
“Iris, I can’t.”
“Don’t you want me?” she asked innocently.
“I do,” he whispered in her ear as she pulled him closer once again. His warm breath moistened her ear. “I — I don’t… I can’t — you’re my brother’s ex. As much as I want you, I couldn’t do that to him.”
“Stop talking —”
She pushed him down onto the loveseat behind him. As he fell back, he pulled her with him. He maneuvered her shorts off her shapely legs, caressing them as his hand slid up her inner thigh. Iris’ pulse soared as she stifled a whimper. His probing touch had her perched for a freefall to ecstasy.
He sat up and lifted her onto his thighs, her perky breasts tempting him. He looked up at her, “Okay?”
She nodded.
“Yes?” he confirmed.
She nodded, breathing heavily, her pulse soaring.
His tongue outlined the lobe of her ear. He lifted her onto his fullness, penetrating her slowly, deeply. Her back arched and eyes closed. As Iris rode him, the loveseat groaned under the pressure of their thrusts. Raspy moans, soaring pulses, heated blood, briny hot sweat. They held nothing back. The musky scent of sweat and sex filled the room. The sounds of wet flesh on flesh resonated.
His muscles flexed, tempering his strength with her. They jerked and twisted with unbridled passion in a primal rhythm. Their eyes met as he glanced at her. Her tight little body, enraptured in passionate pleasure, intensified his excitement.
Driven to the brink of orgasm, her heart wedged in her throat. And in one intense burst of heat, the culmination of anger and love, passion and devotion, rushed through her body.
She leaned in to kiss him. He held her close as he stood, still inside of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked to the bed — kissing her as he laid her down. Her eyes, closed. Her sensual lips parted. He looked at her, “Okay?”
She nodded.
He reluctantly slid himself from the warmth of her body and laid next to her with his arms around her. She surprised him. Showing up at his hotel suite was the last thing he expected from her. She lay there quietly. Her eyes were open, but when he sat up to look at her, she’d close them.
“What’s wrong,” he asked.
“I don’t know, Preston…”
“Look, I’m not afraid o
f the hard stuff.” He put his hand on her thigh, caressing her. “I care deeply for you. No. I love you. I’m in love with you, Iris. I’ve known this since Buckingham Fountain.”
“But you walked out on me. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain anything – — you just walked out,” Iris exclaimed.
“I’m here now.”
Iris sighed. “No, I’m here now. I came to you. You didn’t come to me.”
Preston moved closer and brushed her hair from her eyes. He kissed her on the neck and crawled out of bed. Happy.
“Either way,” he said, “whether I came to you or you came to me, what’s important is that we’re together now. I will never walk away from you again. I’ve been miserable without you. And…”
“I’m not sure about anything anymore, except…” she paused, contemplating her feelings, deciding against sharing them. She said instead, “What are you sure of?”
“Right now?”
She nodded.
“That there’s no other place I’d rather be than here with you right now.” He smiled and kissed her lips.
Iris told Preston her philosophy on life and love and living. She told him she accepted that suffering and sorrow would be the companions of passion and love. He frowned as if he wondered how something so beautiful could be so tragic. But her life had taught her that nothing would be pain-free. She knew she’d gamble with her heart if she stood on the side of love again.
Even with all the financial comforts Peter had offered, Iris had suffered loneliness and disappointment. Yet, she had been willing to endure a loveless marriage in order to keep it intact.
She knew and understood — even then — that love was a gamble. The question was, would she be willing or able to bet on love again?
Iris’ phone rang. She fumbled around in her purse to grab it. It was Sara of all people. She pushed ignore and tossed the phone onto the nightstand. She followed Preston to the bathroom and got into the shower with him.
25
Wildflower Page 9
