Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
But maybe it’s not possible for Iris to feel comfortable in my world.
“She’s never going to feel quite good enough,” my mother continues as if she’s reading my thoughts. “Someone’s always going to want to bring her down. She’s going to have to live with knowing that you could have married someone who would have understood the rules and navigated them expertly. That you could have married someone with connections who felt comfortable in the world in which we live, Jack. And you’re expecting some farm girl from Colorado to give up her life, say goodbye to everything in her world that makes her happy apart from you. To give up everything to be thrust into a world she knows nothing about and might just eat her alive.”
I try and swallow but my throat is dry and I have to strain to breathe. I want to respond. I want to fight back. Tell her she’s wrong. That Iris would be comfortable. That she’d have my protection. That I’d never want Iris to be anyone but herself. That we would be happy.
Am I fooling myself?
My mother fiddles with the clasp of her handbag. Then she looks me dead in the eye. “That’s what you want from her? To sacrifice everything?” She glances down into her lap.
I don’t want Iris to sacrifice anything to be with me.
Is that what it would take?
“Do you really think hanging on to Iris is anything but selfish?” she asks in a whisper.
Being with Iris isn’t selfish. Is it? Am I fooling myself? Playing with her?
“Jack,” she says again. “You’re an Alden. You know what you have to do.”
It feels like I’m being pulled under the waves and I don’t know if I’ll be able to swim to the surface again. I know that I want to be happy, and I’m happy with Iris. But I don’t want Iris to have to sacrifice anything to be with me. I don’t want her to give up who she is to exist in my world.
THIRTY-ONE
Iris
I’ve had a few messages from Jack since he left yesterday, but I keep missing his phone calls, and when I call him back, I get his voicemail.
I’m in bed when my phone vibrates with Jack’s call.
“Hey,” I say, so relieved we’ve finally managed to connect. “How’s your dad?”
“Iris,” he says on an exhale. “I’m sorry I kept missing you.”
“No need to apologize. How’s your dad?”
“He had a stroke. He’s on a ventilator.”
I sit up. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.” I want to ask him how bad it is, whether he’s going to make a full recovery, but it feels insensitive, so I don’t. “How’s your mom holding up?”
He pauses. “She’s shaken up.” If he were here now, I’d be able to tell what he was thinking. Or at least I’d tell myself I could. At the other end of the phone, it’s different.
“I’m sure. It’s a big shock.” I want to put my arms around him and try to comfort him. “I wish I was there with you.”
“I wish you were too.” He doesn’t miss a beat before he answers and somehow it makes me feel closer to him, even if he’s not telling me the truth.
He tells me about seeing his dad and how frail he looked. He tells me word for word what the doctor said when he spoke to him, and how he’s ensured he’s got the right specialists on board to figure out the way forward. His words say he’s in control but the tone of his voice tells me he’s scared.
I want to be there for him.
I might be able to give Marnie some of my responsibilities and go to New York for a couple of days. But… I’m not sure that’s what Jack wants. I know that his mother isn’t my biggest fan. She wants Jack to settle down with a suitable wife, not… hanging out in Colorado with some farmer’s daughter. If I’m in New York, I might just make things more difficult for Jack. I don’t want to cause him more stress.
“You’re doing everything you can,” I tell him.
Silence.
I can tell his brain is ticking over, even from two thousand miles away. “What are you thinking but not saying?”
He sighs, and the sounds of him rearranging himself wherever he is, echo down the phone. “I don’t know,” he lies.
“Just talk, Jack. You don’t need to filter things with me.”
He huffs out a half laugh. “I know. I’m thinking that I don’t like being here without you. And I’m feeling bad I wasn’t in New York when my father had his stroke.”
Silence tumbles between us, until I finally say, “I get it. I miss you too.”
“It’s been a day apart, but I don’t feel myself when I’m not with you.”
I grin. “I don’t think anyone’s paid me a nicer compliment.” There’s more he wants to say. I feel it. “You’ve got a lot on your mind.”