Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Ugh,” she grumbled.
“Oh, you love playing dress-up, and you know it.” Arden reached up to pull the sunglasses off his face, folding them, then slipping the arm into the neck of his shirt. “Wow. You look like hell. And I know hell.”
“Gee, thanks. I really needed a pep talk today.”
“You look fine,” Finn assured her.
Fine.
What a leg-quivering compliment.
“Can you do something about … all that?” Henry asked, waving toward Iris as a whole.
“Charming as ever, Hens,” Arden said, shooting the other man an eye roll.
“Well, can you?”
“I’m still in the room,” Iris grumbled.
“She needs nothing to be absolutely stunning. But I will have her done up and dressed for the town hall.”
“On time,” Henry insisted.
To that, Arden snorted.
“As much as I can control Iris being on time, sure.”
“Good. Come on, Finn. We have to go over talking points.”
Finn moved to follow his campaign manager but paused. “Don’t slap a ton of makeup on her,” he said. His gaze cut to Iris. “She doesn’t need it.”
“Oh, baby,” Arden said after tugging her into the bathroom. “I am about to combust from that secondhand longing.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked. She watched as Arden hung up a garment bag on the back of the door, then pulled about half a dozen items out of his bag, spreading them across the counter.
“That look, my sweet sea goddess. That look.”
“What look?”
“The one your fiancé shot in your direction before walking away.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What is all of that?” she asked, waving.
“Wait,” Arden said, mouth falling open. His hand shot out, grabbing hers. “Is this the ring? The ring?”
“Oh, yeah. Finn just gave it to me.”
“Oh, Iris,” he said. He pulled it up for a closer look. “It’s stunning.”
“Yeah. I really love the stone.”
“Of course you do. Kudos to Finn for being a great jewelry shopper. That’s an important trait for a husband.”
Was it, though?
Sure, she liked pretty and shiny.
But she wanted more than superficial things. She wanted someone to ask her about her feelings, to inquire about her hopes and dreams, to give her their own depths and vulnerability.
And that man would never be Finn.
So as Arden spent the next few hours slathering things on her face and hair as he took her from grudgingly awake to (in his words) an ‘ethereal sea stunning,’ she tried to think of ways she might make Henry and Finn second-guess her as a political wife at the town hall, without being offensive to anyone or making a complete fool of herself.
She wanted to talk to Selene about it. But by the time Arden thrust the garment bag at her, they only had five minutes left before Henry started nagging.
Alone, she slipped into the light-pink pencil dress that hugged her figure but had a modest neck and hemline.
The fabric slid over her hips like a second skin, soft and smooth and nothing like seaweed wraps or the scratch of coral-polished shells. Too soft. Too easy. Too … human.
Though, she had to admit, Arden definitely knew how to dress her.
As she turned in the mirror, she had the strangest, most stomach-dropping thought.
She was starting to like playing dress-up more than she liked forever sporting her tail and shells.
The thought was so shocking, she walked out of the bathroom on stiff legs, her spine ramrod straight, feeling like her very mind was betraying her nature. The dress was simply something she wore. Her tail was part of who she was. How could she possibly think for even a moment that she preferred window dressing to her true form?
“Arden does good work,” Henry said with a nod.
It was high praise from him, but Iris was too stunned by her own mind to react.
“Hey, are you all right?” Finn asked, reaching out toward her arm. Like he thought she might need support.
She did.
But she yanked her arm away.
She wasn’t upset with him this time. She was mad at herself. For becoming so land-oriented. It had been so easy to slip into this new world, this altered version of herself. There were things on the surface that felt like pieces she’d been missing all her life.
The books came into mind first. After a lifetime of reading the same stories, the world had opened up to her. There were endless stories within countless books. There were places she could only visit between the pages of books she would never be able to read under the water.
It was more than the books, though. It was the fascination that came with exposure to other cultures, other people. She hadn’t been ignorant of the surface. But it had existed as an abstract, almost like bedtime stories instead of reality. But almost as soon as she’d surfaced, she could see how narrow her own world had been. Always the same faces, the same sights, the same language and customs. While the land was bursting with people and experiences she never could have even imagined.