by Olivia Luck
Point made. I have her.
Releasing her silky skin, I shift back to the driver’s seat. “The only investors I’ll take are my parents.”
“Some people say working with family is a recipe for disaster,” she comments.
“I’ve heard that,” I say wryly. “But we’ve decided this is going to be a family deal, and we’re going to name it after my mother’s middle name—Caroline.”
“Oscar, I don’t know how you can say you don’t have time in your life for anything other than work. You’re incredibly invested in your family.” She looks at me with a faithful devotion that literally makes my heart feel like it’s swelling in my chest.
The words roll around in my mind. I think of clearing my schedule for family dinners, supporting my mother’s fundraising events, and volunteering alongside her and my father. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“Can we go outside and walk around for a few minutes? I know it’s cold outside, but I’d love to have the land underneath my feet, get a feel for your creation.” Iris smiles cheekily. “Then I’ll be able to say I knew this place when.”
Somehow, my chest expands with more pride. Knowing that she believes in my vision makes me feel like I can conquer anything. It reinforces my drive to make Caroline a reality and to bring Iris along with me on the journey.
“Come on. Let’s get the land underneath our feet.” Iris doesn’t wait for me to open her door; she meets me around the front of the hood, nearly bouncing on her toes with excitement.
“After you,” I say gallantly.
Iris moves forward swiftly, covering the land with curious steps and searching eyes. No spot of grass goes unchecked by her roving eyes. She doesn’t stop moving until she’s a few feet shy of the sand. I move to stand next to her, waiting with urgency to hear what she thinks.
“I’m envisioning indoor/outdoor dining. Maybe a wall of windows for a view of the lake in the winter but can open to let the air in during the summer. There could be a deck, special occasion brunches, and romantic dinners.” Iris’ breath catches in her throat, and she looks at me sheepishly. “I’m getting ahead of myself, throwing all these ideas at you. You probably have the whole thing laid out in your mind. Have you met with an architect?”
The wind tussles the ribbons of cornflower silk around her shoulders. Sunlight nearly makes her glow with radiance. For a moment, all I’m able to do is take in all that is Iris Harper. She steals my breath. She makes my heartbeat slow down and speed up at the same time. She’s everything I dreamed of, and I’m finally waking up.
“No,” I say huskily. “No architect yet. I want to hear your opinion, Iris. I value it immensely. Your support makes me believe I can pull this off.”
Pinkness colors her cheeks. She gives me her profile, watching the gentle roll of the waves on the lake.
“What are we doing here, Oscar?”
Blatantly ignoring the real question, I respond confidently. “We’re talking about my business venture.”
She whips back to look at me. “This is more than a business venture. This is what’s left after you achieved the success that doesn’t fulfill you the way you imagined it would.” Iris shivers, hugging her coat close to her chest. “Explain to me why you want to open Caroline when you have one of the world’s best restaurants in the city. Explain why you need another place when you’re opening Mariquita in a month.”
“Because they’re not what I want,” I growl, suddenly angry at the realization. “All the notoriety in the world won’t give me the creative outlet I desire. Mariposa is untouchable. There’s no warmth, and the kitchen is completely sterile. And you know what the worst part is? I have no one to blame but myself. As much as I want to cook, I don’t want to cook there in a silent kitchen. I want local ingredients and a menu that changes based on what’s available. I want a place that is, yes, upscale, but not out of reach.”
Iris’ lips hitch at the corners. “Then do it, Oscar. Catch your dream. You deserve it.”
Something inside me snaps at her advice. Yes, Caroline is what I want, but it won’t mean anything to me if I don’t have Iris as part of that reality. Her standing there, the wind teasing her hair, eyes filled with respect, hugging her body for warmth, I can’t resist her. Rushing forward, not giving her a moment to hesitate, I yank Iris into my arms and crush my lips over hers.
Iris melts into me. Her hands grip my biceps. I take it as an invitation to mold her soft curves against my urgent, demanding body. I drag my tongue against the seam of her lips until they part.
How could I think I could resist her? Just one taste and the world around me fades. She brings the best parts of life into focus. She gives me loyalty, faithfulness, consideration, devotion, acceptance. And the way her body fits against mine makes me know we were meant to be together. Like two halves of a whole coming together.
I’m home.
A moment later, I’m tasting the air. Iris takes two steps backward. Her chest literally heaves with each breath. She pushes a hand through her hair. She’s shaking, and I don’t know if it’s because of the temperature or something else.
“I can’t do this!” she cries. “You may be able to have a physical connection without an emotional once, but I can’t. No.” She shakes her head vigorously. “I won’t.”
The finality in her voice gives me a beat of pause, but I refuse to let it deter my mission.
“Iris.” I step toward her, keeping my voice gentle and soothing. But with each amount of distance I close between us, she moves backward. “I can’t do this friends bullshit anymore either. We’re on the same page.”
Iris stops moving, and I’m able to slip my arms around her waist. Her chest brushes against mine, and I realize that my heart is thudding in my chest. Hell, I’m nervous and starting to wonder if I pushed her too far.
“Are we?” she asks, mystified.
I fix my gaze on hers, hoping to convey all the sincerity “I brought you here because I want you to be part of the future I’m building.”
Underneath my hands, Iris tenses. “As your friend.” There’s no question. That’s how she sees our relationship. Shit. I need to get on to the next phase of my plan.
Step four: confession time.
“No, as more than my friend. Iris, I want you to be part of Caroline and not just as someone supporting me from the sidelines. Build this place with me. Be my partner in Caroline and be with me. Hell, if you don’t want part of Caroline, then just be mine.”
She stares at me dumbfounded. “One minute, we’re sleeping together, the next, we’re just friends, and now, you want me to . . . What exactly is it that you want from me? I’m having a hard time keeping up with your ever-changing mood.”
“All along, I’ve wanted you. But I was too stubborn to let myself be vulnerable to you. I know I’ve said and done things that aren’t in alignment with what I’m telling you now, Iris, but that was all a mistake. Forget about the past. Be in a relationship with me. Show me how to make time for a significant other. Come to dinners with my parents and take me on double dates with your sister and Cam. I want all of it. Every bit as long as it involves you.”
Iris’ eyes fill tears, and from the despair in her expression, I know these aren’t happy ones. For the first time, I start to wonder if I’m too late.
Fuck that. I ignore the doubts and urge Iris closer. “Give me another shot to show you how much I adore you.”
“Forget about the past?” She repeats the phrase faintly. Her body doesn’t move, but I can almost see her retreating.
Instantly, I want to swallow the words back.
“One day, you’re warm, the next day, you’re cold. One moment, we’re emotionally available, the next, you’ve distanced yourself, and I can’t figure out how to get you back. I—I don’t sleep around. I gave you a part of me that I cherish and when you rejected me . . .” Iris tries to gather her scattered thoughts, but she looks overwhelmed.
I hold my breath while I wait for her to continue
.
“You hurt me, Oscar,” she says quietly. There’s no hiding my wince. “Once I got over that, I convinced myself that we would be nothing more than friends. Ever. As much as I wanted to be with you”—I wince at the past tense—“I told myself that it would never happen. Now, with no rhyme or reason, you suddenly want to be with me. How can I trust that you won’t change your mind tomorrow?”
It’s then I realize her lips are turning blue. Shit. The cold air isn’t bothering me; in fact, I feel like a fucking furnace heating me from the outside out. Slipping my arm around her shoulders and hugging her to my side, I lead her back toward my car.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?” I chastise.
“We’re in the middle of a serious conversation.”
“Don’t think I’m ignoring what you asked me. You need heat before you catch pneumonia.” I bundle Iris into the car and race around the front to turn on the engine and blast the air vents in her direction.
“Look at me, Iris.” She tilts her head in my direction, disbelief painted on her features. “I am not going to change my mind. All along, I’ve wanted you. That hasn’t changed from the first moment I saw you singing along to Jackson 5 at Expertly Planned. The only thing that’s different now is I realize that all my excuses were garbage. I’m done acting like a scared boy.”
Iris shakes her head morosely. Her gaze falls to her lap.
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you unguarded. But I know you’re still holding back. I have this premonition that you’ll never truly let me in,” she says with enough sorrow to make me feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
A sardonic laugh builds in my chest. While I’m imagining us spending the rest of our lives together, she’s picturing me keeping secrets.
“What do you want to know, Iris? When it comes to you, I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Tell me about your family,” she says instantly.
The words stick in my throat like they’re thick peanut butter. For a moment, I can hardly swallow. No one knows about my past. Did I really think I could be with Iris and not tell her about my background? I don’t know if I’m prepared to tell her everything. To let her see the ugliness that makes up my DNA. Mother addicted to heroin. Father a pimp.
Lost in my own thoughts, I don’t realize that Iris grows more dismayed by each passing moment that I don’t speak.
“I wish I could trust you,” she whispers.
That’s when I know I’ve lost her. At least, at this moment, there’s no winning her over. But I am not forlorn. If anything, my resolution just strengthens.
I turn my attention to the wheel and shift the car into drive. The aggression building inside me shows itself in the way I roar the car into drive and speed off the land. “I’m not giving up on you, Iris Harper,” I say with all the steely determination of Odysseus returning to his family after the Trojan War.
Probably, my heart should be cracking in my chest. I should be drowning in despair because I know what she’s saying underneath those words: no. Well, fuck that. Mariposa didn’t become a sensation in one night. I’m used to hard work, and there’s no way I’m letting this woman go.
Iris
Am I an idiot? Have I made the biggest mistake of my life?
All I wanted was for him to want me in the way I want him. And what do I do when he does as I dreamed? I turn him down.
Moronic.
Telling Oscar no when he opened his heart to me was nothing short of rejection. But instead of seeing desolation, I see nothing but determination in him. When he dropped me off at home that night, he kissed me on the forehead and told me it wasn’t the end. I want to believe him—Oh, how easy it would be to accept his proposition. But I’m scared. No. Terrified. I am terrified that he’ll change his mind.
It sounds melodramatic, I know, but I need to protect my heart. I made that decision after a counseling session with my sister and Dex. They told me that it’s ultimately my call, but I got the feeling my sister was pushing me toward Oscar. She kept telling me how everyone deserves a second chance.
Still, I let February bleed into March with no more friendly dinners, texts, and phone conversations with Oscar. Oh, he still invited me out. He showed up at my office with lunch for Violet and me, just to ‘hang out.’ Every interaction was awkward for me, but Oscar acted as though it was the most natural thing in the world to pursue a reluctant woman. More than socializing, he came to get information on the Sterling wedding. Oscar continues to insist that he will fill in for me.
No matter how much time I spend with Oscar, no matter how wonderful he continues to prove himself to be, I can’t help but wonder why he won’t give me all of him. If he wants to be with me as badly as he claims, why won’t he tell me about his family? A big chunk of his life is off-limits to me. I can’t help but wonder what else he won’t want to share with me. If I’m willing to show him the not-so-pretty parts of my past, I expect the same from him.
Yet you don’t have the guts to tell Oscar you gave him your virginity.
The voice of reason never fails to remind me that I’m not being completely honest myself. None of this adds up to a strong foundation for a relationship.
March slides into April first.
After a particularly grueling day of work, Violet and I trudge upstairs to the loft. While I order a pizza, Violet takes Rocky on a quick walk. I change into a pair of leggings and a baggy t-shirt, ready to relax. I am falling onto the couch when Violet and Rocky scurry back into the apartment.
“Whew! It’s wild out there.” To punctuate her point, Rocky does a full body shake, splashing droplets of water all around the floors. Violet’s rain jacket is heavy with water, and she has to take her rain boots off on the front mat to avoid dragging more liquid into our apartment.
“I don’t know if Cameron will make it back tonight,” she muses. “The wind is ferocious, and there’s plenty of lightning out there.”
“April showers,” I murmur.
“I’m ready for May flowers.”
Once she feeds the dog his dinner and changes into lounge clothes, Violet flops down next to me and clicks the remote to activate the television. The programming is paused with an interruption from the local weather station. The weatherman rattles off tornado and severe thunderstorm warnings, waving at a colored map.
“Holy cow,” my sister whispers.
“That’s cutting right through Winter.”
We turn to face each other, our faces mirrors of worry and concern. A knot forms in my stomach. A tornado can lead to catastrophic results, and that terrifies me. What will happen to the people I’ve known my entire life? My parents?
Noticing my fear, Violet screws her features into a brave face. “There’s nothing we can do. The weather is out of our control.”
I nod in reluctant agreement.
“Let’s watch something else. Otherwise, we’ll go wild with worry.” Violet clicks to another channel, but the sitcom does nothing to distract me. Each time the wind howls outside, I jump. When the deliveryman rings the buzzer, I jog downstairs to get our food. The fierce winds make it difficult to push the door open, and after only standing outside for a few moments, the man holding the pie is nearly soaked through with water.
“The weather seems to be getting worse,” I tell my sister when I’m back inside.
Violet tsks. “I know you can’t help it but try to think about something else.”
The cardboard box trembles in my hands. “They’re out there. Our parents, the community, the place we called home.”
“That was never a home,” Violet snaps. I know she’s not directing the anger at me but at the shadowed memories of our youth.
“Fair enough,” I concede. “Like it or not, Winter had a part in building us. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it. And even though that place wasn’t good to me, I don’t want anything bad to befall the people there.”
Violet squeezes her eyes shut. “I don’t mean to so
und uncaring.” She blinks her eyes open, sorrow plain. “It still hurts to think about mother and father. No matter how far away I get from home, no matter how much I tell myself that I’m over what happened; I’m not.”
“Me either,” I confess. “This is why people have therapists, right? To talk about how their parents messed them up.”
Violet grins a little at that. “Come on. The pizza’s getting cold.” She has the coffee table set with plates and napkins and has set out a glass of red wine for her and seltzer water for me. “What do you think about Casablanca tonight?”
“Sounds good.” Violet has a list of movies, music, and television shows she wants to watch because Father prohibited the consumption of most popular culture in the home. Sometimes, Violet and I would sneak out and go to the movies, and of course, we watched Sister, Sister, but for the most part, we obeyed the rules.
Once the movie starts, I’m able to lose myself in the love story. Thoughts of Oscar and wicked twisters momentarily halt while we eat. During the film, Cameron calls Violet to let her know he won’t make it back from Florida until after the weather passes. That likely won’t be until the middle of the next morning, so my sister decides to stay at our place for the night.
The moment the movie ends, Violet turns off the television, not giving us the chance to check the local news. I know it’s an intentional decision. If we don’t watch the news, then we won’t know what happened. While I clean our dirty dishes, Violet rushes Rocky outside for another quick walk. By now, the torrential downpour is a steady rain.
I don’t have the strength my sister does to avoid bad news. When Violet comes back into the apartment, I’m sitting in front of the television watching the local channel. “What?” she asks desperately. Apparently, my expression shows the grief roaring through me.
“It’s bad.”
She stands at the edge of our couch, watching the devastation alongside me. Despite the inky black sky, bright lights from a television crew onsite illuminate the destruction left in the wake of the tornado.
