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)
It was the laugh from the walkway nearby that had her fighting back her tears.
The last thing she needed was someone snapping a picture of her in her heartbreak.
So as soon as her tail dried and her legs appeared, she pulled herself off the ground and walked over toward a modesty box.
Iris took one of the many pairs of well-worn flip-flops and a large red-and-white flannel that was comically oversized on her.
But she felt a little less exposed as she ducked her head and made her way through the city.
She couldn’t go back to Finn’s penthouse. She wasn’t ready to hear his excuses.
She wanted Monty, but there was no telling where he was or who he might be with. The last thing she needed was more eyes on her.
She felt raw from Selene’s cynicism, but she made her way toward the bookstore, knocking wildly on the door until Selene emerged from her attached apartment.
She stumbled toward the door, her wild purple hair pulled up in pigtails, a massively oversized pink sweater swallowing her up.
Selene’s hand rose, making the locks disengage before she yanked the door open.
Her gaze scanned her friend.
Then she sighed.
“Well. You look like a woman who accidentally trusted a man. Come on in. I’ve got tea, tequila, and hex books. Pick your poison.”
Iris followed Selene through the darkened bookstore, wishing to feel the usual comfort she did at the scent of paper, ink, and glue binding, but finding nothing but deeper wells of sadness.
“Not now, Gerty,” Selene grumbled as a book flew across the store. “Don’t you know a heartbroken woman when you see one?”
Selene’s apartment was a studio that Iris wasn’t sure was real or enchanted. Judging by the small square footage, though, Iris was inclined to believe it was good, old-fashioned Manhattan real estate.
Her friend had fully made the space her own, though. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined one wall, soaked in a bright, happy yellow and weighed down with thousands of the romance novels she pretended not to love.
The floors were scattered with various colorful rugs, and the couch and bed were equally mismatched and cozy.
The kitchen was small and tidy, with purple cabinets and dried herbs hanging.
At the furthest end of the space was Selene’s altar, featuring storage for spell books, candles, incense, herbs, oils, and salt.
It seemed as though Iris had interrupted some sort of ritual. Supplies were spread across the altar: black crystals, a black candle, a quill pen, and a piece of paper with some writing on it.
Selene moved over toward the kitchen, flicking on the electric kettle, then reaching for two mismatched mugs before turning back to Iris.
“You smell like salt water and disappointment.” She waved Iris over toward a small two-chair dining set, the top a mosaic of Moroccan tiles. “Do you want to talk about it, or help me look for a spell to give him an itch he can never quite scratch? Upper back. Just out of reach forever. Or enchant his tie collection to aggressively tighten anytime he is being disingenuous. Or we could keep it simple and make every seagull in the tri-state area see his face as a bull’s-eye, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t want to hex him,” Iris said. Then, after a little consideration: “Yet.”
“Attagirl. So, spill. What did The Suit do?”
Iris let it all spill out, this time letting the tears flow when they threatened.
Selene just listened, bringing her tissues, then her cup of tea.
When she was finally done, Selene took a deep breath. “Hmm.”
“Hmm? That’s all you have to say? Hmm?”
“Well, see, I feel like Finn would have to be monumentally stupid to do something he had to know would upset you just when the two of you had seemed to make some progress. And as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think he’s an idiot.”
“Are you taking his side?”
“Listen, you know how much it pains me to defend a man,” Selene said, making Iris’s lips tease up ever so slightly. “I don’t think this was Finn’s doing. This has that smarmy, self-serving, sneaky-ass campaign manager written all over it.”
That did make a certain kind of sense, when she thought about it.
“It still doesn’t explain why he didn’t come after me,” Iris insisted. “Why he chose to stay with the cameras instead of making sure I was okay.”
“No,” Selene agreed, leaning back in her chair. “No, it doesn’t explain that.”
Iris watched the steam dance from her cup. “What if he always chooses his career first?” Iris warmed her hand on the mug. “If I want to be with him, does it mean always being second in his heart?”
“I wish I had the answer for that. Maybe what you need is a little time and space to get your mind and heart in check.”
“Yeah,” Iris agreed.
“You can crash here. I end up sleeping on the couch more than the bed anyway, so it’s all yours. And I can loan you something less … nipple-prominent to wear.”