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“There’s noyou two, Mom. We’re not a thing.”
“Looked like a thing to me,” Pippa said. “The way you laughed at his jokes.”
“And the fierce Dutch Blitz competition going on the night I arrived,” Sibba said. “I saw the way he looked at you when he let you win.”
Her mouth opened. “He did not let me win.”
Sibba folded her arms. “He totally let you win. He just stopped playing for a bit there, let you take over the game.”
She sipped her coffee. “I was just so lightning fast he didn’t know what to do.”
Sibba held up her hands in surrender. “Just saying that he wore this silly smile, and when you won, he did too.”
“I just liked knowing I could beat him at something. He’s always so…capable.”
“I felt the same way about Fraser when I met him,” Pippa said. “Like we were competing or something. And then it sorta felt nice to let him, you know, step in sometimes. Maybe I didn’t have to always be in control of everything.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my job. To be in control.”
“Sounds tiring,” said Sibba.
Iris frowned at her.
“Just saying that I get it—I have to be completely in control for my job. So being able to just sort of let go around Jonas is a gift. He’s always two or three steps ahead of me anyway.” She took a sip of her tea. “There’s so much unknown with my job, having the certainty that I can trust him is…well, letting him love me has changed my life.”
Oh. Next to her, Pippa nodded. “I’m always looking for trouble. It’s nice to know that it’s not all up to me.”
Iris grabbed a muffin, now cool. “I’m all songs and roses for you guys and your happy endings, but it’s not like that between Hud and me. I’m an official—he’s a player. We can’t be together without jeopardizing our jobs.”
“What about this job with the USFL?” Her mom turned the bacon that now sizzled on the stove.
“Oh, I think that’s pretty much…uh, not going to happen. Not after he punched Darren Pike at dinner last night.” She broke open the muffin, the smell breaking out, soothing the churn in her stomach.
Her mother turned. “Really?” Then she smiled. “Oh, I knew I liked Hud.”
“Mom.”
“I should have given him more cookies.”
Iris rolled her eyes.
Her mother scooped the bacon out of the pan and set it on a paper towel. Then she picked up the egg bowl. Looked at Iris. “You’ve spent your entire life memorizing rules, living your life by a plan. But your life, your rules, and your self-reliance are a prison, Iris.”
“My life isn’t a prison, Mom.”
“It is if it keeps you from freedom. From living.”
“I live.”
Her mother turned and poured eggs into the hot pan.
“I have a great house and a life I like.”
“Yes, you do,” her mother said, turning. “But you choose the comfort of the known instead of the freedom of trusting God.”
“I trust God.”
“How? What in your life requires you to trust God?”
