Chapter 98
Iris
I wake to the sensation of warmth surrounding me, but it has little to do with the morning sunlight spilling through the window. It’s a pair of arms around me that I feel instead.
Warm, sturdy, familiar arms.
On instinct, I nuzzle deeper into that embrace, inhaling the familiar scent of my mate. It wraps around me like a cocoon, calming me to my core, far more than the sweater ever did. His arms tighten gently around me, tugging me a little closer, and his lips brush the top of my head in a tender kiss. I can’t help but smile softly at the sensation.
For a moment, it feels as if the last five years never happened. As if I’ve just woken up in my old bed, wrapped in Arthur’s arms, a smile on my face. I imagine the two of us waking up slowly together, perhaps making love, his lips trailing across my throat and my shoulder….
And then maybe heading downstairs, perhaps making breakfast together in our underwear before we start the day.
It would be bliss to experience those days again.
But then reality comes crashing back, just like it always does.
I don’t belong here. This isn’t my bed–not anymore, anyway. And I certainly didn’t fall asleep here last night–I clearly recall falling asleep in my studio after hours of frantically painting, too exhausted to even walk down the hall to the guest room–which means only one thing.
At some point, while I was fast asleep, Arthur took me to his bed last night.
“Hey!” I sit up, smacking his arm with my hand. “What the hell, Arthur?!”
He stirs, his eyes shooting open instantly. He looks confused for a moment, and then extremely shameful. “I didn’t—It wasn’t-”
“Don’t be a creep,” I hiss, scrambling out of bed onto shaky legs. “Did you think you could get with me again if you brought me to your bed without my consent? Did you carry me here in my sleep, or what?”
Arthur sits up, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “I didn’t mean to,” he says, his voice rough and gravelly with sleep.
I plant my fists on my hips. “Is that so? Were you just sleepwalking, then?”
He looks up at me, and something in his face hardens. “No. I was drunk. Trust me, Iris, if I had been sober, I never would have brought you to my bed.”
For some reason, hearing him say that out loud sends an unexpected pang through my chest. I wonder for a brief moment if all of the dancing, the laughter, the tenderness would have happened at all had he not been inebriated, and although I don’t want to feel this way, it makes me sad.
But I choose not to dwell on it, and pull my shoulders back
“Don’t do it again,” I say, turning on my heel and leaving the room.
“Trust me,” Arthur calls after me, “I won’t.”
Another ache reverberates through my heart at the sound of those words, but I ignore it, refusing to let it get to
- me.
1/3
Chapter 98
That morning, I call the doctor to come and check on Miles Thankfully, Miles doesn’t have an infection- just a slight cold from the other night, which should clear up in a couple of days with the right prescription.
Miles already seems to be feeling better just from a good night’s sleep, and after breakfast, I set him up in the living room with his kitten, some cartoons, and a cozy blanket.
As I arrange for Cliff to come and watch Miles for an hour so I can run out and pick up his prescription, I think back to Arthur’s initial offer to hire a nanny and wonder if I should take him up on it. Right now, it’s appealing, and I hate asking Cliff to constantly watch Miles when I can’t.
I don’t intend to live here in this apartment for too long, but if I’m going to stay in Ordan, I’ll need a new babysitter anyway since our old one is still in Bo’Arrocan. I have a lot on my plate and can’t stay with Miles all day every day, and he doesn’t start kindergarten until the fall. I’d take him to daycare if I weren’t worried about how he might handle it.
Once Cliff is able to come upstairs for a bit, I hurry out to pick up Miles‘ prescription. Afterwards, I pass by Abbott Gallery, and decide to run inside. I’m already wearing my ‘Flora‘ glasses and wearing my hair in my signature, messy bun my constant uniform whenever I go out lately, since apparently I need to constantly be in disguise around here so I don’t hesitate before going inside and approaching the receptionist with a smile.
“Hello,” I say, walking up to the desk. “I was interested in applying for your residency, and was wondering what sort of information you have.”
The receptionist beams and hands me a form to fill out to get the process started. I turn, heading over to a nearby bench, and am surprised–and also chagrined–to see Bella, the snooty artist from the other day, filling out a form there herself.
She glances up as I approach, her nose wrinkling slightly when she sees me coming. “Oh. It’s you.”
“It’s me,” I echo, curling my lip in disdain. I hold up my form. “Surprisingly, they’re allowing humans to apply for the residency.”
Bella rolls her eyes and signs her name at the bottom of her form with a flourish, then stands and struts off. I watch her go before I take a seat and get to work filling out the necessary information.
After I hand in my form, I get curious and look up Bella on social media on my way out. I know her work well, but haven’t looked at her newest pieces. And of course, within moments of looking at her page filled with carefully- curated pictures–mostly of herself in tight clothes, posing beautifully beside large canvases to appeal to both men and the art community–I feel my heart sink.
She might be an arrogant, racist jackass, but her art is good.
Like… really good.
I huff as I close out the app, sliding my phone back into my purse. Knowing that she applied to the residency makes me nervous; I can’t hold a candle to her art, and she’s twice, no, three times as famous as I am here in Ordan.
I guess I’ll need to figure something else out in the meantime. At least I have one painting completed for Alice. Maybe my next one should include a woman busting out of a tight dress, her mouth comically large and twisted in a sneer as she flies on a witch’s broom over a tiny human.
But no. That would be too mean, and that’s not my style. Although the thought almost makes me laugh out loud, I have to admit.
I’m lost in thought, my head down, when I suddenly bump into someone on the sunny sidewalk. Gasping, I step back.
2/3
Chapter 98
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I look up, and my voice cuts off. Standing in front of me, clal in cat–eye sunglasses and a silk headscarf, is none other than Selina.
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