Chapter 60
Íris
“Hello, Iris,” Selina says, flipping a blonde curl over her shoulder with a manicured hand. “Fancy seeing you here.”
I freeze in the doorway to the living room, suddenly feeling out of place in what was once my own home. Arthur is sitting in an armchair across from Selina, who is perched on the edge of the couch in a delicate little purple dress. She looks as statuesque as ever.
There’s a pile of papers between them, and it only takes a glance for me to see mockups of wedding invitations and know that they’re in the midst of wedding planning.
My throat tightens. Even though Arthur told me their marriage was only ever meant to be for political purposes and not love, it still hurts to think about it. And it hurts even more to see her here, especially in the same place as my son. I’m glad Miles seems to be playing upstairs, judging by the sound of his footsteps pattering overhead.
“Selina,” I manage, forcing a thin smile that has no levity behind it. “Is that your painting in the hallway?”
Selina’s eyes flash with something bordering on gleeful malice, and she waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, that little thing? My interior designer picked it up from a random vendor at the park today. I’m not really a fan of it, but she said the vendor seemed so pitiful and desperate for cash that she just had to help her.”
I feel like I’m going to be sick. Surprisingly, Arthur doesn’t react. He never saw the finished product of the painting, so I wonder if he even realizes it’s mine. I hope not.
Just in case they really don’t know it’s mine, to save face, I smile and nod. “I see. That must have been very kind of her, then.”
Selina’s upper lip curls into a little smirk. “Indeed.”
With that, I turn to head upstairs, not wanting to interrupt their meeting. But Selina gets up then, scooping up the piles of papers with a dramatic sigh.
“Well, Arthur, darling, I’ll send the invitations back to the designer as soon as possible for a new round of mockups. We shouldn’t delay our wedding any further, though, you know. You’ll have to make a decision at some point.”
Arthur is silent, but Selina doesn’t seem to notice or care. She saunters past me, her slender shoulder brushing mine as she walks by, and picks up the painting between two fingers.
“As for this,” she says, holding it up and wrinkling her nose as she inspects it in the light, “I suppose I could hang it in my bathroom.”
And just like that, she’s gone.
It’s only once the doors shut behind her that I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I turn to Arthur, who’s standing now, and I hope desperately that he doesn’t know the truth about the painting. I’m not sure if I could ⚫ handle the extra shame right now.
“Iris, I have a question for you,” he says, not addressing the wedding invitations or the painting. He crosses over to the dining room and walks behind the bar, pouring himself a tall glass of bourbon. “Are you still planning on using the patronage funds?”
“Why would I?” I retort, placing my hands on my hips. “I still plan on backing out of the contract.”
He shrugs one shoulder and takes a sip of his drink. He looks like he needs something to take the edge off after
Chapter 60
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Selina’s visit. And when he holds up the bottle in my direction, silently offering me a glass, I nod and move over to the bar. I need something to take the edge off, too.
Pouring my glass and handing it to me, he says, “You don’t have to back out of the contract, you know. I still stand by what I said about wanting to support your art.”
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