“None of us can help how we grew up or who our parents are,” I tell her, wishing I could say this without thinking of my faithless father. “You’re young, and you’re allowed time to figure this out.”
Iris sniffles and manages a small smile. “How old are you? Because you seem to have itallfigured out.”
For the first time, I worry she’s going to think I’m too old.
Too old for what, Landry? She’s already turned you down.
I shove the thought aside and brace myself for her response. “Twenty-seven.”
She fast blinks. “That’s all?”
I frown. “What do you mean,that’s all?”
Iris bites down on her rapidly growing smile, her eyes wide with humorous chagrin. “I mean—I mean—That’s exactly what I expected,” she says, clearly fibbing.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Just how old did you think I was?”
She inhales through her nose, eyes still red but tears forgotten, and her comedy-sketch face is back. “Oh, just never mind,” she says, wrinkling her nose and waving a dismissive hand. “What’s age, really? Just a number on a driver’s license.”
“And just what number did you think was on mine?” I ask with mock menace.
Her smile goes insanely wide. I hold my breath so I don’t laugh. “A two-digit number,” she chirps proudly.
Too much. I’m a goner. I laugh like I’m high. This girl. A minute ago, she was crying. Talking shit about herself, echoing what I bet she hears from her mother all the time. Now she’s smiling and making me laugh with her antics. Even after what I know must have been years of taking crap from Moira, her spirit is irrepressible.
I could learn a thing or two from her. About finding joy. About choosing happiness, no matter what life hands you.
“So, you thought I was thirty.”
Her smile is wicked, and she shrugs coyly. “-ish.”
Thirty-ish.“Damn,” I hiss like she’s punched me in the gut.
Still, she thought I was that much older, and she still kissed me. That’s got to be encouraging.
Doesn’t change the fact that she turned your ass down.
I swallow that bitter pill again, but the bastard keeps coming back up.
Her silent phone continues to flash Moira’s name across the screen. Iris hugs herself and nods toward it as though it could bite her.
“Would you text something to her? I’m afraid if I pick up the phone, I’ll cave and just answer it.”
I grab the phone before she changes her mind and tap the custom message icon. When the app opens, I type:
I won’t be answering now. We’ll talk next week.
“What about this?” I show Iris the phone.
Her eyes round. “I’d never be that blunt.” She tips her gaze up at me, beaming. “Send it.”
I do. Five seconds later, Moira calls again. Iris’s smile falters.
“What do you think about blocking her? Just for now?” I float the idea.
Iris sighs, but then she surprises me with a nod. Taking this as permission to do the honors, I tap Moira’s contact and block her. I like the sensation it gives me more than I should.
Iris’s frame relaxes next to me, and I like that even more. “Now what?” she asks.
