Maybe—
I fell asleep to a constant, repeating pattern of maybes circling through my mind.
But none of those maybes brought me any closer to dispelling the tornado of shame swirling there, of ridding myself of the tenterhooks of my past, my failures, my hopes for the present and future. Because they’d all collided into something that just wouldn’t pan out.
I’d known that.
I’d yearned for a partner, had hoped it could be Iris because she was incredible.
But that wasn’t to be.
It couldn’t be.
Ten
Iris
So, it turned out that searching my family room for my underwear was a uniquely embarrassing experience.
“Though,” I muttered, tugging my purse strap over my shoulder and girding my loins. “Not as embarrassing as revealing something to the person you were dating, the one you were supposedly building some sort of a meaningful relationship with, and having said person laugh in your face and make a tactless comment.”
So. Fucking. Terrible.
That terrible being me as a person.
I’d texted Brent no less than twenty times, had called him at least a half dozen, and I probably would have kept on texting and calling and pestering if not for the fact that midnight had come and gone. I’d already been an asshole. I didn’t need to keep bugging him into the wee hours of the night.
So, I’d called off the cellular assault, had put on my rattiest sweats and a holey sweatshirt, and I had baked into said wee hours.
Which meant I’d had a good start on orders before I even headed to work.
It also meant that I had baked a giant platter of brownies in a pathetic attempt at an apology. Bribery, causing a sugar crash, I was willing to take any and all steps if it might mean that Brent would just hear out my apology.
I didn’t even have grandiose plans of him giving me another shot.
I’d been a total ass and didn’t deserve another shot.
But he deserved an apology.
Which was why I was carting my platter of brownies down the sidewalk to Bobby’s, already dreading the conversation that was going to take place, but knowing it had to anyway. I also knew that this was probably going to be the beginning of the end of my time in the cool bar and that my proffered advanced copies of Brooke’s books were certainly going to be rescinded.
Well-deserved.
God, I wasn’t used to being the asshole.
That was Frank’s job.
I’d paused outside the door to Bobby’s, feet halting even as the self-flagellating continued, but because I was lost in thought, I didn’t see Brooke until she was almost on top of me.
“Oh!” I jumped, nearly upending the platter.
“Hey, Iris,” she said, smiling with her backpack hanging on one shoulder. “You coming in to hang out?”
“I . . .”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence because the door opened in front of me, and I had to dance back, had to act fast to keep the platter of goodies safe.
“Shit, sorry,” Kace muttered, taking it from me and holding the door for both Brooke and me to enter. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Probably shouldn’t have been standing behind the door,” I said.
Kace smiled at me. “I probably should look before throwing them open.”
“Yo!”
Kace and I glanced up, or rather over at Brooke, who was tapping her foot impatiently.
“Yeah, baby?” Kace asked, closing the distance between him and his woman, slipping an arm around her waist and tugging her close. “Is that jealousy I hear in your tone?”
I snorted, the idea was so preposterous. Not only was Brooke fucking gorgeous, but Kace was madly in love with her.
“No,” Brooke said and glanced around Kace to smile at me. “No offense, Iris. It’s just that I trust my man.” A light punch to Kace’s arm. “But mostly, I’m impatient because that looks like chocolate underneath that plastic wrap, and now that I’ve had some of Iris’s delicious baked goods, I’m not going to pass up another chance.”
“Brownies,” I said in confirmation. “Double chocolate fudge with peanut butter swirls.”
Brooke moaned and extended her arms in supplication. “Thank you, oh gracious and kind Baking Goddess. I needed something fattening and filled with chocolate to get me through these edits.” She made a grab for the platter, which Kace lifted slightly so it was out of reach. “And anyway, I think that Brent would have something to say about that, if I was jealous. Which I’m not. Especially when I just need choc—”
“Brent’s not in,” Kace said, brushing his lips across Brooke’s before glancing over at me and lifting a brow. “Hurt his back last night, apparently?”
I bit my lip, nodded.
He’d hurt more than his back.
Fuck, I needed to get out of here. I patted my pockets like my phone was ringing. “Oh,” I said, lying through my teeth when I glanced at the screen. “That’s my employee calling. Go ahead with the brownies. I’ll join you so long as he hasn’t caught anything on fire.”
Brooke laughed.
Kace’s other brow lifted.
I turned deliberately to the door, putting my cell to my ear, and saying, “Hello?” to absolutely no one as I pushed out through it. I kept the charade up as I moved past the windows. Then I dropped it, right along with dropping the hope I’d been clinging to that I could make things right.
“I’m doing this,” I muttered. “I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do and he deserves an apology. So, suck it up, Iris Hannigan.”
I was outside the door at Bobby’s again, another platter of baked goods—snickerdoodles—in my hands, though this time, I’d carefully kept out of reach of the door’s swing.
See? I learned.
Part of me couldn’t believe I was here. I’d spent most of my walk home the previous day, most of the morning at work, continuing to reprimand myself for being a jerk.
But around two in the afternoon, I’d realized I needed to stop.
No, I hadn’t done the right thing.
No, I hadn’t handled myself properly, any more than
