Itoss the keys onto the small table by the door, my hand still shaking from the storm of emotions that raged through me at Iris’s house. The place feels too quiet, the walls too close, as if they’re pressing in on me with reminders of what just happened. I can’t stop thinking about Iris and about how she infuriates and enthralls me in equal measure. I run a hand through my hair, the weight of my feelings for her heavy on my chest.
A knock at the door jars me from my thoughts. When I open it, there stands Dad, holding a plate piled high with cookies still warm from Mom’s oven. The sweet aroma fills the air between us, but I can’t find it in me to smile.
“You look like hell, son,” Dad says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “What’s going on?”
I take the plate from him and set it on the counter, not trusting myself to speak right away. How do I explain that the woman who haunts my dreams is back and that she’s managed to upend my world again without even trying?
“Iris is back in town,” I finally say, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside.
Dad raises an eyebrow and leans against the kitchen counter. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” The word comes out like a sigh.
He watches me for a moment, then says bluntly, “Don’t let her go this time.”
I look up at him, not surprised by his directness.
“You deserve to be happy,” he continues. “Just like your brothers. And if memory serves, you haven’t looked at another woman the way you looked at Iris back then. Trust me, son. She’s the one. Don’t let her get away again.”
I want to argue with him, to tell him it’s not that simple, but he’s right.
Dad doesn’t linger. He never was one for long conversations about feelings. “I’m heading out to do some fishing,” he says instead. “You’re welcome to join if you’re free.”
I shake my head. “There’s something I have to do.”
He nods as if he understands everything that goes unsaid between us and heads for the door.
Once he’s gone, I stand here alone in the silence of my home. Maybe I was too harsh when I left Iris’ place. Maybe there’s still a chance for us if we can just lay everything out on the table. Calmly and rationally. I know I said I’d give her space, but I have to convince her that she can trust me, that what I feel for her isn’t fake.
I wasn’t lying when I said I hadn’t been with nearly as many women as people think I have. Shit, my own brothers think I screw around all the time. Maybe I should’ve corrected the lie, but it served me well... Until now.
Now it might have come back to bite me in the ass if I can’t convince Iris that it’s always been her.
With a resolve that feels fragile but necessary, I pull out my phone and type out a message to her.
ME: Dinner with me tonight at Gianni’s? I’m sorry for leaving the way I did.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
Now all I can do is wait and hope she’ll take it.
Chapter 11Iris
The phone buzzes on the nightstand, a jolt to my still-foggy brain. It’s a text from Angel. My heart leaps, and then sinks, caught in the tangled mess of emotions from this morning.
Taking a deep breath, I tap out my reply.
ME: Dinner sounds good.
I set the phone down and watch as seconds stretch into minutes. Then it vibrates again, and his reply lights up the screen.
ANGEL: I’ll pick you up at seven.
Seven o’clock feels like a lifetime away and yet too soon for my scattered thoughts to align.
The ride to Gianni’s passes in a silence that’s thick with all the words we’ve left unspoken. The only sounds are the low hum of the Jeep’s engine and the occasional whoosh of cars we pass by.
We pull into the restaurant parking lot a few minutes after leaving my parents’ house and head inside. The hostess leads us to a secluded table near the back. The candlelight flickers across Angel’s face, illuminating his features and making him look both mysterious and painfully handsome. He pulls out my chair and as I sit down, his fingertips brush lightly against my shoulders. My skin tingles at the contact.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m still pretty sore. I think it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I’ve only ever been in one other car wreck, and I know I was in a lot more pain a few days later than I was this early on. Thankfully, I don’t have a concussion.”
He nods, a slight smile gracing his lips for a moment before the waiter shows up to give us water and leave us some menus. “I’m sorry,” he says once the waiter is gone. “For acting like a dick.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. We’ve got a lot of history. Seems like it’s still a little more raw than either of us realized.”
He leans back in his chair, his green eyes studying me as if trying to read every thought racing through my mind. “Tell me about your plans to open your firm here,” he prompts.
I let out a sigh, resting my elbows on the table and cupping my chin in my hands. “That was the plan,” I admit. “But the space I was interested in got leased out because I missed the meeting when the wreck happened. Seems real estate goes pretty fast in this town.” A frown tugs at my lips as I add, “I’m supposed to head back to Pittsburgh in a few days, and now... I just don’t know what to do.”
Angel reaches across the table, his hand warm as it covers mine. “Whatever you decide, know that I’ll support you,” he says with a calmness that belies the turmoil we’ve both been through. “But... I’m not losing you again.” My heart flutters at his words. It feels like hope is threading its way through the cracks of our broken past. His fingers lace with mine and we both lean in a little closer.
“I don’t want to lose you either,” I say, nearly whispering. I look down at our hands, nestled so comfortably together. “Do you know how many times I used to fantasize about holding your hand?”
“Probably as often as I thought about kissing those pouty little lips of yours.”
