Page 29 of She’s Worth the Risk

On Friday evening, I make my way to Lemon Lane, a tiny side alley off Fruit Street, stopping when I find the address I’m looking for. It’s a beautiful two-story redbrick carriage house, with black window trims and a large, central door that would have once been for horses.

Gran taught me about carriage houses one summer as a kid, and we’ve made a game of finding as many as we can in the city. I love how they’re such a tangible way to see New York’s history, and it’s always fun to stumble on a new one when I least expect it. We’ve visited all the carriage houses in Brooklyn Heights multiple times, but the last time I saw this one, it was derelict. It’s wonderful to see it renovated.

I step closer, noticing the brass sign above the door that reads Lighthouse Architecture Studio. This is Iris’s house? Double-checking it’s the correct address, I knock on the door. A man appears, smiling.

“Hi,” I say, taken aback. “I’m looking for Iris?”

“You must be Zinnia.” He extends a hand, taking mine. He’s tall, around mid-forties, with a salt-and-pepper beard and kind gray eyes. “I’m Aidan, Iris’s fiancé.” He motions to the stairs over his shoulder. “Iris is upstairs. Go on up.”

“Uh, thanks,” I say, giving myself another second to look him over. Her fiancé? He must be close to twenty years older than her.

Huh. Good for Iris.

He steps aside, heading into a room off the foyer, and I follow the wooden steps up to the top level. Stepping into the space, I pause. I’ve never actually been inside a carriage house before, and it’s even more beautiful than I thought. Exposed brick on the front wall, with large windows letting in the warm evening light, which bounces off the back white walls, making the space bright and airy. It’s got an open floor plan, with the kitchen and living area in one space, and a set of metal stairs leading to a mezzanine bedroom. In a word, stunning.

“Zinnia!” Iris spots me standing in the door with my jaw on the floor, and walks across to pull me into a hug. “You made it.”

“This is where you live? Wow, it’s gorgeous.”

“Oh, thank you.” Iris presses a hand to her chest. “Aidan and I designed it.”

The sign on the door flashes through my head. “You’re an architect,” I say, impressed.

“Well, soon.” She laughs. “I haven’t graduated yet.”

“But she will,” Aidan chimes in, entering the room behind me. “Because she’s brilliant.” He pulls Iris into his side, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She sighs, leaning into him, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Then she laughs, shoving him away.

“Don’t distract me. We’ve got work to do.”

He chuckles, raising his hands in defeat as a sound comes from the door downstairs. “That’ll be the others. I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He drops another quick kiss on Iris’s head as he passes, then heads down the stairs, greeting Poppy and Daisy on the way. They appear in the kitchen a moment later, smiling.

“Zinnia,” Daisy says, leaning in to hug me. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

I grin, squeezing her. “Thanks for inviting me.”

She stopped me before I left Joe’s yesterday and said they were meeting to plan Violet’s baby shower, and that I should come. Although I’d been hesitant to get involved, I figured since I’m sticking around a little longer, it would be fun to help. They’re all so lovely, and Poppy’s gone out of her way to keep an eye on Gran. It’s the least I could do.

Besides, it might be good to have some girlfriends to hang out with for the summer.

Iris pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Everyone okay with wine? Poppy, if you prefer something else—”

“God, no.” A laugh rushes from her. “I could use a drink. I’ll pump and dump after.”

“Is Wyatt on daddy duty tonight?” Iris asks, and Poppy nods. “He didn’t refer to looking after his own kid as ‘babysitting,’ did he?” she adds, pulling wine glasses from a cabinet.

Daisy chuckles. “Wyatt? I doubt it.”

Poppy laughs too, copper locks shimmering as she shakes her head. “No way. He was so excited, it was cute.”

Daisy leans her head on Poppy’s shoulder. “It’s hot when you see them as fathers, right? Even if their kid isn’t a kid anymore.”

Poppy nods, gaze moving to Iris as she pours the wine. “What about you? Any plans for kids?”

“I’m a little preoccupied with my degree and our new business,” Iris says, handing Poppy a glass. “Besides,” she adds, grinning wickedly, “Aidan’s already the perfect daddy.”

The women chuckle as Iris hands me a glass of wine. I glance between them, asking, “So, you’re all married?”

Daisy and Poppy nod, but Iris shakes her head. “We’re not. We’re waiting until I graduate.” Of course. Aidan called himself her fiancé, not her husband. But it’s close enough.