by Olivia Luck
“You would do that?” I breathe uncertainly. For a moment, the red mist of anger surrounding my sister doesn’t bother me. I’m stunned. Oscar Alexander, self-proclaimed workaholic, is willing to offer his valuable time to help me. This goes above and beyond friends. Not that we’re anything more than friends but, well, this shows we’re better friends than I thought.
“Supporting Michael is important to you, and clearly, a wedding for the mayor’s son needs a tight attention to detail. When Iris is at the competition, I’ll lend a hand. You can fill me in the day before. See, a solution that works for everyone.” Oscar makes it sound easy, but by the tightness in my sister’s jaw, I can tell she’s not pleased with the suggestion.
“We wouldn’t need a solution if Iris hadn’t made another commitment,” she snipes.
Another painful squeeze in my chest.
“Why don’t you discuss this and let me know? Call me, Iris.” Oscar swallows another gulp of coffee then moves to the kitchen to rinse the mug.
I can’t meet my sister’s gaze when she’s looking at me with such disdain. I had no idea Violet could get this angry. I’ve never seen this side of her. The worst part is this is completely my fault. How did I not realize those were the same dates? There should have been a warning blasting in my mind the minute Michael told me the date of his competition. Violet’s right; I’ve been too caught up in my own business and not giving my all to working with her. And without this work, I wouldn’t be able to live in Chicago. I feel ungrateful and terrible.
Caught up in my own self-deprecating thoughts, I don’t hear Oscar’s footfalls; I don’t realize he’s near me until I’m in his arms. The hug is a brief respite from my misery. With his scent and arms wrapped me, my problems diminish. As if to convey a silent message of support, he squeezes me tighter. When he releases me, he walks past my sister and pats her on the shoulder, a decidedly less warm farewell.
Then we’re alone.
A thick, tense silence fills the loft. I force myself to look at my sister. All the anger she wore before has melted into a mixture of disappointment and a heavy sadness. “I just don’t understand how you could have forgotten,” she says, sounding tired and stressed.
“Violet, I promise you it was not on purpose. Of course, I don’t want to let you down. My brain wasn’t working. All I could think when Michael invited me to cheer him on was that I actually formed a genuine connection with one of my students. I was so happy that I forgot about my commitment to you and Expertly Planned. I know it’s not ideal for Oscar to help on the day of the Sterling wedding, but supporting Michael is something I really want to do.” There’s no denying the pleading tone in my voice, but it doesn’t seem to reach my sister.
“Oh, and working with me is something you don’t want to do?” The question could sound angry, but mostly, I hear vulnerability.
I wince at the dismay in her response. “I want to do both.”
Violet looks at me soulfully. We both know I’m fibbing. Of course, I enjoy spending time with my sister, but working events isn’t my passion like it is hers.
“You know, I didn’t want to say this unless I could deliver it gently. Because I don’t want to hurt you. I’m starting to feel like you don’t care about Expertly Planned,” Violet says, further driving a spike into my heart.
My chest burns at the accusation. “That’s not fair, Violet. I care about you and this business more than anyone else.”
“Cameron asked me to move in with him. And I said yes.”
I bite back a surprised noise. This shouldn’t come as a shock to me, but the timing does catch me off guard. When I gauge my reaction, I feel nothing but happiness for my sister. “Violet, that’s great news.”
She frowns. “And you aren’t upset that I’m going to move out?”
“Of course, not. This is what you want,” I say immediately.
Violet looks at me in confusion.
Stalemate.
“Hey, ladies! Who wants biscotti?” A blast of cold air fills the loft space as Stella bustles inside. She’s carrying a white box with, I’m sure, the stamp of her family’s restaurant on the lid. Like me, Stella prefers to show up carrying something to eat. She hangs her jacket as we greet her with lackluster enthusiasm.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, eyes flicking between Violet and me.
“Event stress. Nothing we can’t handle,” Violet says with a brittle smile. I’m thankful she doesn’t want to discuss this in front of someone else. I know I should be embarrassed that Oscar saw Violet and me argue, but he’s my friend. My close friend, who offered to save the day.
Unfortunately, Stella’s here to discuss her wedding, and I can’t think of a worse time to try to convince my sister of something.
“I hear you. Work was crazy today. We’re trying to nail down a sponsor, and I just found out that their CEO got a DUI last week. Not exactly in alignment with our family-friendly image.” Stella works for the Scraper’s corporate office.
“What a fool,” my sister mutters. “DUIs are nothing to joke about.”
“You said it.” Stella slides into the seat that Oscar vacated a few minutes prior.
“Something to drink?” I fall into my role as Violet’s support staff naturally. Inside, I’m still smarting over the argument with my sister.
Despite my best efforts, I let her down.
I let myself down.
“Got my own. Thanks, though, Iris.” In my disorientated state, I didn’t notice Stella holding a travel mug. When we are seated around the table, my pen poised above my trusty notebook, Violet and I both direct our attention to Stella. “This is unnerving,” she says.
“Sorry. We go into client mode automatically. But you should know that we’re going to treat this wedding as we would any other event. Actually, that’s not right. You’re our VIP, top client. Whatever you need, we’re here for you.” Violet says this sincerely. Apparently, she’s able to push past the tension between us.
“That’s why I’m here,” Stella says. She sits straighter in her seat. Then she leans across the table to flick open the box of pastries. “I want to talk about how the wedding will go if—if I decide to work with Expertly Planned.”
Violet’s eyebrows nearly jump off her forehead in shock. “If you decide to work with us?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m saying this all wrong,” Stella quickly backtracks. “Cookie?”
Violet waves her hand. “Not until after we talk. What’s going on, Stella?”
“Look, there’s no one else I would rather plan my wedding than you. Not only are you the best planner I’ve ever seen, but you're also one of my most trusted friends. And Iris is wonderful too,” Stella hurries to say. A few months ago, I would have thought Stella added that bit in just to be nice. Now, I know the truth: Stella does consider me a friend. I’m no longer afraid that Violet’s friends just tolerate me. That’s a consolation in a day that’s been metaphorically gray thus far. “Both of you are my friends, and I don’t want you to spend my wedding day caught up in the details. I want to celebrate with you. And if you’re running around the venue doing your job, I won’t be able to have fun. Maybe that makes me a bridezilla, but that’s what I want.”
Violet considers her friend through squinting eyes. “How can I plan your wedding while not actually planning your wedding?”
“Well, I have an idea.” Stella sits straighter. She doesn’t look my way, but I know this is where I come in. “What if you and Iris plan the wedding, but then I hire additional staff to man the actual events, like the rehearsal dinner and wedding? Some people I know hire day-of wedding coordinators. You could have full autonomy to pick someone who you like, and I’ll foot the bill because this is my decision.”
Violet cocks her head to the side, contemplating before responding. That’s my cue.
“It could work, Violet. There has to be some part-time planners to hire. I’d be happy to do research and arrange some interviews. We’ll have our
hands on all the details and then when it comes to the party, someone else will do the rest of the work. You know as well as I do that we can’t enjoy a party while we’re working an event. It’s not feasible.”
Violet visibly wavers. “You sure about this?” she asks shortly.
Okay. Clearly, Violet is not done being mad at me. Stella’s eyes go wide, but she doesn’t say anything at the obviously awkward comment.
“It’s no bother,” I say through gritted teeth. Violet has a right to be angry with me, but it doesn’t mean she can embarrass me in front of our friend.
“And you are truly insisting on this? Because I’m almost breaking out in hives at the thought of giving someone else control over your wedding.” Violet gives a mock shudder when she addresses Stella.
“But you won’t give up control. This is the best of both worlds, don’t you think? There’s no one I’d rather pick out the details of my wedding with other than you. Once all that’s settled, then someone else will do the work on the actual wedding day.” Stella’s voice starts gaining enthusiasm.
“And I’ll be available day of to work with the planner.”
Violet shoots me another short look. “Unless, of course, you double book that day too.”
“Violet! What’s with you today?” Stella scolds my sister like a parent would their child. Ironic, considering Violet and I were too afraid as children to make any missteps. Instead of scolding, we received lectures from our father. Daily.
“I don’t know what’s coming over me. I’m sorry, Stella.” Violet turns toward me, her expression tortured. “I’m sorry, Iris. This isn’t my day. Can we close the meeting for now? Iris will start looking for assistants, and I’ll set up appointments at the venues I know you like and some others that you may not be aware of.”
“No problem. I’m worried about you, Violet. You should take the rest of the day off and relax. I’m sure Iris can manage anything pressing that may come up.”
My sister looks mournful. Pain fills me, and I can’t stand that I hurt her. I’d do anything to clean this entire mess with the snap of my fingers. But that’s not an option.
“That’s a good idea,” Violet says, suddenly sounding exhausted.
Within a few minutes, it’s decided that Stella will drive Violet to Cameron’s house because she is on dog sitting duty while Cameron’s at practice for the day.
The loft goes silent in their absence, and I’m left with my gnawing insecurity. How am I going to get Violet to forgive me?
Oscar
“I’m downstairs with dinner. Buzz me in.”
On the other end of the line, Iris remains silent. She’s as surprised as I am that I found my way to her apartment unannounced. I don’t know what brought me back to her place tonight. It only took a few minutes to figure out the Scrapers are off tonight, and I’d bet a Michelin star that Violet is with Cameron tonight. Imagining Iris alone and upset over her argument with Violet prompted me into action. Call me a glutton for punishment, but if I know Iris is hurting, I want to take away the pain.
“Iris,” I prompt.
“Oscar.” There’s my girl, unable to hide her emotions. In that one word, I hear a wealth of sorrow.
“This is February in Chicago. Not quite the best weather to be hanging out in. Let me in, Iris.” The rate of her breathing changes, and I can hear the sound of her feet shuffling across the floors. A moment later, the back door clicks. Balancing my phone against my shoulder, I use my one free hand to pull the door open. The other hand is full carrying bags of sushi. Once inside, I shove my phone into my pocket and jog up the staircase to the second floor. The door is cracked open, and I use my shoulder to nudge it the rest of the way to allow me inside.
This is the first time I’ve been inside her place. I take a moment to observe the well-kept apartment. Hardwood floors run through all of the space, a wide-open square encompassing the living, dining, and kitchen. A narrow hallway off the kitchen likely leads to their bedrooms. Two overstuffed slate blue couches sit perpendicular in the living space, along with a dark gray armchair. A rich red rug sits underneath the furniture. Photos of Iris, Violet, and their friends hang on the walls. Warmth fills the space.
“What are you doing here, Oscar?” Her quiet voice draws my attention to the kitchen. A deep blue hoodie swallows her frame, leggings cling to her legs, and fuzzy black socks cover her feet.
“You had a shitty day. Friends don’t let friends sulk alone.” Raising the paper bag, I swing it back and forth. “I wasn’t lying about dinner. Sushi. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything. Grab some plates, will you?”
She spins quickly but not fast enough. I observe the way more sadness clouds her expression. What the hell? I get the feeling I’m making things worse. I thought she’d be happy to see me.
“Thank you for checking on me. It’s incredibly considerate of you.” Iris sets plates and napkins on the round dining table in the space between the open kitchen and the living room. I meet her there, pulling plastic-covered boxes out and placing them on the table. She places a hand on my shoulder, surprising the hell out of me. This is the first time Iris has willingly touched me, and it nearly takes my breath away. “You’re a good man, Oscar.”
Then she’s gone, back into the kitchen, leaving me there still holding my breath. There’s pure admiration in her words. I realize then I haven’t taken Iris seriously. For as long as I’ve known her, I’ve thought her to be naïve and unworldly. Certainly, the things she says are genuine, but she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’s just a small-town girl.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Who am I to say who knows what? I tell Iris to be confident, and here I am, such an insecure clod that I can’t accept her compliment.
“Thank you, Iris.”
“What can I get you to drink? Violet keeps beer and wine.”
“Let me see what you have.” I move to stand directly behind her at the open refrigerator. The sweet smell of sugar teases me. If I stoop low enough, I could press my nose into the silky tresses of her hair. “Wow. I didn’t realize Violet was a beer connoisseur.”
The most delicate shiver rattles Iris’ shoulders. “Whatever you see probably came from Cameron. He keeps things he likes here. But I guess that won’t be for too much longer.” The frown in her voice makes me realize I need to get my mind out of my dick and talk to Iris.
“What do you mean by that?” I reach around her and swipe a bottle of beer local to Wisconsin. Despite my instincts to move closer to Iris, collect her into my arms, and soothe away all her worries, I move back to the table and finish removing the food.
“Today, Violet told me she is moving into a place with Cameron. I guess she accepted his invitation to live together.”
I glance at her mournful expression. “She unloaded that on you today when she was clearly angry about something else.”
“It was an emotionally charged moment. I can’t blame her for snapping at me.” Iris sighs and drops into one of the matte black wood chairs. She doesn’t ask, but I start serving her. I pour soy sauce into a plastic container and set it on her plate. Then I place several rolls on her dish. The chopsticks separate with a loud snap. Once she is set with food, I take my own seat and fill my plate. “Wouldn’t you be upset if someone you relied on let you down?”
Nodding thoughtfully, I chew on a piece of fatty Bluefin tuna nigiri. “Absolutely. But she should know you didn’t do anything on purpose. You don’t have a malicious bone in your body, Iris.”
She fiddles with the chopsticks, biting her lower lip. “She was so angry. I’ve never seen Violet like that; least of all, have it directed at me. Even when our father kicked her out of our house, she kept an even head.”
Internally, I wince. What kind of bastard kicks his own daughter out of his home? Come to think of it, he probably did the same thing to Iris. She hasn’t mentioned any trips home to Winter.
“What was your childhood like?”
Iris fro
wns. “Unpleasant. Strict rules made it less of a childhood and more of a regimented youth. Father said his children should be seen and not heard. Children at the church could be full of life—but they weren’t his. Violet and I and even our mother were expected to behave a certain way.”
“What happened if you broke a rule?” I’m tense. If she says that bastard laid his hands on her, I’ll drive down to Winter and see how he likes to take on someone his own size.
“We never dared to break the rules. If we stepped out of line, Father gave us a stern dressing down, but he never . . . Nothing like physical abuse.”
“Don’t discount emotional abuse,” I say sharply. “Your parents didn’t do right by you or Violet.”
Iris nods. “You’re right. And that’s the reason why Violet and I became so close. We hardly ever fought because we were the only support system we had. To think I let her down breaks my heart. She’s been watching me closely at work, and obviously, I gave her reason to be critical. Gosh, I still can’t believe I made this mistake.”
Leaning across the table, I toss the chopsticks aside and grab her hands. “Listen to me, Iris. It wasn’t an intentional lapse in judgment. There was a problem, and I could offer a solution, so I did. Violet is taking this too far. There’s no reason why she should be watching you critically. You give your heart and soul to Expertly Planned even though it’s not what you want to do with your life. Do you want to know what I think?”
Iris pins me with her soulful navy eyes.
There.
The exact thing I’ve been afraid of happens at that moment. I lose my heart. She snatches it from my chest and holds it in her hands with one tender look. For a moment, I’m lost to her. And to my unrelenting shock, I’m not afraid. This is a prime opportunity for Iris to bail on her sister, yet she’s not. How much more proof do I need that Iris isn’t the one to leave when things get tough? She stays.
“Violet realizes that you shouldn’t work as an event planner. She’s starting to see that her dream of running her business alongside her beloved sister isn’t what’s right for you. That’s the reason she lashed out today. She doesn’t want to lose you again.”
