“I think it is a big deal if you need something and don’t feel like you can ask me for help.” He scoots to the edge of the seat so I’m within reach and rests his hands at my hips. “Baby, not sure if you heard, but I make a lot of money.”
“Good for you,” I say. “You make yours. I’ll make mine.”
“Are we not in a relationship?” His eyes, the color of a pending storm, search my face. “Did I misunderstand what we’re doing here?”
“Of course we’re in a relationship, August.” I run a hand over the tension in my neck and brush a dark swathe of bed-hair back from his face.
“And aren’t you there for me? When I lose a game? When you cook for me? When I need your help?”
“Picking up your mail when you’re on a road trip is nothing.”
“Yeah. Nothing. Like this little list of bills is nothing to me.” He gestures to my laptop. “Iris, do you have any idea how much money I make? Not the contract. That’s a drop in the bucket. The shoes. The video games. The endorsements. Baby, I can take care of your bills.”
Some wound I thought healed, scabbed over, smarts. Everything in me resists taking money from him.
“It’s bad enough you’re driving that piece-of-shit car,” he continues.
“My car is not a piece of shit,” I counter, my voice turning brittle. “It runs perfectly fine and gets me where I need to go.”
“But I could get you something really nice, dependable, and never even miss the money.”
“Yeah, Caleb bought me a beautiful Mercedes,” I say bitterly, taking a few steps away. “But I found out fast that all of his gifts had strings attached.”
“What the actual fuck, Iris?” His voice rumbles in the space I’ve put between us. “Are you comparing me to him? What we have to what you had with him?”
“No, I—”
“Are we only going to talk about him when it’s convenient for you to bring up and use against me in an argument?” he demands, his voice cooling off. “That’s kind of unfair since I have no context for what he did, how he behaved, or what happened. Since you won’t tell me shit, ever.”
“We’ve talked about this.” I draw a calming breath, wanting to keep this from venturing into dangerous territory. “I signed an NDA.”
“Whatever. Or maybe you just don’t want me to know what happened.”
He’s partially right on that score. Why would I want him to know how Caleb ground me to dust? That I allowed that? No matter the reasons or the circumstances, he caged me like an animal, and now that I’m out, I don’t want to revisit my captivity.
“I just need to do this for myself,” I say more softly. “I don’t want to owe anyone.”
“Owe?” He runs his hands over his face and pushes out a frustrated breath. “If I ever give you a car . . . correction when I give you a car, because when that thing you’re driving dies, I will give you a car . . .” He closes the space between us and gathers both my hands in his against his chest. “When I give you something, it’s yours. You’ll own it, and no one can take it away from you. Not even me.” He bends to whisper in my ear, “The same way you own my heart, Iris. Outright.”
It’s the closest we’ve come to saying the words, but something holds me back. I’ll never forget the night when I first tried to leave Caleb—the humiliation at the hotel. The credit cards denied. Seeing those flashing blue lights, being pulled over by the cops and accused of stealing the car, of kidnapping my own daughter. I’d thought Caleb and I had built something together, but it turned out he was working alone and setting a trap. I trusted someone else with my welfare, and they used it against me in the most unimaginable ways. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to trust my and Sarai’s security to someone else again, even someone I love and who loves me.
The silence stretching out after August’s subtle declaration grows cool and awkward. I don’t know what to say. If I press past my fears and tell him what I feel for him, what I really feel, will he use it against me? Deep down I know August isn’t Caleb, but some pain goes deeper than what we know. It fundamentally changes who we are and how we live, and it’s beyond the reach of reason.
“Mommy.”
August and I both turn to see Sarai, her dark hair ruffled and little fists twisting in her eyes. I walk over and pick her up.
“Morning, baby.” I breathe in her little girl freshness.
“Gus,” she says firmly, stretching her little arms toward him. He glances up at me, silently asking if it’s okay. I don’t like her waking up with a man in my house. I don’t want to confuse her, but I know there’s a bond forming between them. I don’t want to take that away. I offer a terse nod.
“Hey, princess,” he says softly, scooping her up and pressing his forehead to hers. “What are you doing up?”
She doesn’t answer but burrows her head into his neck, already blinking drowsily and halfway back to sleep. Watching his tall frame travel back up the hall with her head resting on his shoulder twists my heart. I want to believe it, but it all feels too good to be true. August feels too good to be true, like Caleb did once. That boy who brought me coffee every day for weeks, wooing me, listening to me, and treating me kindly, he seemed too good to be true. But Caleb’s good wasn’t true. He was a cruel fraud—a mistake I made that may chase me for the rest of my life.
I finish with the bills, noting the calls I need to make for extensions until my next paycheck. Closing the laptop, I check the time to see if I can grab a few winks before I have to be up for work. If August is still down to cuddle, I’m here for that.
But when he re-enters the living room, he’s dressed in his San Diego Waves sweatshirt, a baseball cap, and his tennis shoes. Keys jingle in his hands.
“I’m gonna go.” His eyes rove around the room like he’s checking for anything he may have left, but his glance skids over me. “I need to meet my trainer soon.”
I know his schedule. He has plenty of time.
“August, I—”
“Just . . . it’s okay, Iris.” He walks toward the door, stopping only to drop a kiss on the top of my head. “Let’s talk later when we’re both . . .” He shakes his head, pulling his cap lower over his hair. “Let’s just talk later.”
The door closes behind him.
Iris
The client Jared asked me to follow up with decided not to sign. I received an email reminding me that the money for the online sports certification is due today, and I don’t have it. The daycare called me out of a meeting because Sarai bit some kid. I had to review a fifty-page contract Jared needed “like yesterday” . . . in five minutes.
It’s a day from hell, and it’s not even noon yet.
My email alert dings, distracting me from the branding strategy Jared asked me to tweak for a soccer player who recently signed. I open the email from human resources, and my blood pressure soars. I’m up and charging down the hall, knocking on Jared’s office door before I give myself time to cool off.
“Iris, hey,” he says, glancing up from his laptop. “Come on in.”