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)
“What?” she asked. She turned to him—arms crossed, body language closed.
“I have a car down at the corner,” he said, gesturing.
“Oh.”
“We’re going to the same place. Might as well go together. For the environment,” he added with a smile that she could only call self-deprecating.
“Well, it wouldn’t be good optics to say one thing and do something different.”
She hadn’t meant for that to be cutting. But there was a slice of something across Finn’s eyes that made her wish she could suck the words back in.
They climbed into the car and drove in silence back to Manhattan.
He dropped her out front of the building so she wouldn’t have to walk back from the parking garage where Finn kept his car.
She was glad for the distance—both physical and metaphorical.
“Monty!” Iris yelped when she walked into the apartment—trailing sand—to find Checkers at his bubbling water fountain with the pelican walking up behind him, beak open.
“I wasn’t going to eat him.”
“Then why do you keep checking to see if he will fit in your beak?” she asked, scooping up Checkers.
“I was trying to measure him. For science.” Monty fluffed his feathers and lifted his head—giant beak and all—appearing above such a thing as eating house cats, despite the evidence otherwise.
“What kind of science is that?” Iris pressed, placing the cat down on the back of the couch.
Monty ignored that, deciding to change tack. “I see your handsome human found you.”
“Yep,” Iris said, popping the ‘p.’
“He was worried about you, you know,” Monty said. He followed her down the hall and into the bathroom, where she sat down in the tub and used the shower wand to wash the sand off her legs.
Her tail emerged half-heartedly before she started to wash off.
“He has a lot invested in me,” she said, reaching for a towel.
“Oh, my sweet sea child,” Monty said. “No. That was not a politician worried about his campaign. That was a man upset that the woman he cares for was missing.”
“Sure, Monty,” she said, rushing toward the bedroom in a towel.
She heard Finn come home as she slipped into her clothes, half-listening to Monty tell her about the day’s escapades. She had every intention of avoiding her fiancé for the rest of the night.
Until there was a loud crash followed by a curse.
She sighed before making her way out, only to find Finn on his knees beside a large box, his shoulders hunched, his breath coming in fast, shallow bursts.
“Finn?” she called, concern slipping into her voice. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Finn panted out between ragged breaths.
“What happened?”
“Was putting that box down,” he said. “Threw out my back.”
Iris wasn’t familiar with the sensation but judging by how badly Finn was sweating and how red his face looked, she figured it was painful.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No. No, this happens once in a while. I just need to rest it.”
“Iris can help you get up,” Monty offered.
Iris shot him a look, but the bird was right. She had to help Finn off the floor.
“Yeah, here,” she said, moving closer. “Take my hands.”
Finn huffed out a few more breaths before reaching out. His hands were clammy in hers, and he looked about to faint as he slowly let her pull him to his feet.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a doctor? You went from lobster-red to angelfish fast.”
“It’ll pass. Help me over to the couch.”
“You’d think a mayoral candidate would have better lumbar support,” Monty mumbled.
“Not helping,” Iris chided.
It was a painstaking process, but she eventually got him over there, then let him use her body as leverage to lower down.
But the second he leaned back, a loud howl escaped him.
“Perhaps he needs to be in bed,” Monty suggested. He got another look from Iris.
“I just need to be flat. These cushions won’t work. Can you help me to the floor?”
“The floor?” she repeated.
“You can’t let him sleep on the floor,” Monty insisted.
Of course she couldn’t.
“You can take the bed.”
“Nonsense,” Monty said, waving a wing. “You can share. It’s plenty big for the two of you.”
“It’s fine. The floor will work.”
“Oh, for Triton’s sake,” Iris said, reaching down for his hands again. “Come on.”
It was a slow process down to the bedroom. By the time she got Finn into the bed, he looked exhausted.
He reached into the nightstand, shuffling around with a familiarity that reminded her that this was once his room, his bed, his nightstand.
A bottle of pills rattled as he opened it. He threw back several without a drink before collapsing against the pillows.
Iris stood there, feeling helpless.
Mermaids didn’t typically suffer from ‘thrown-out’ backs. She had no idea what to do, but felt like she was supposed to do … something.
“I’m all right,” Finn said, patting the space beside him. “Get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.”