Iris Kelly Doesn't Date (Bright Falls, #3)(105)

“I’m no prude,” Maeve said, a fact she emphasized by slapping Liam on the butt.

“Oh, lovely, nice, thank you for that,” Aiden said.

Maeve just laughed while Liam’s cheeks turned pink.

“Anyway,” Maeve said, glancing around. “Where’s this famous Stevie we’ve heard so much about?”

Iris’s stomach turned over. Her friends all froze, eyes wide like they were teenagers and they’d all just been caught sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night.

In her mother’s defense, Iris had told her family that they could meet Stevie at her launch. And Iris hadn’t been exactly forthcoming in her recent conversations with her mother about her and Stevie’s breakup. She hadn’t really thought through the consequences of that decision, that she’d have to explain the whole split in person, and at her own book launch no less.

“She’s not here” was the excuse Iris went with, hoping her mother would settle for the paltry non-explanation.

Which, of course, she didn’t.

“Not here?” Maeve said, frowning. “She’s your girlfriend. Shouldn’t she be at your book flight?”

“Book launch, Mom,” Aiden said.

“Whatever,” Maeve said, her eyes on Iris. She smelled blood in the water, and Iris could see the second her mother realized Iris was full of shit.

Maeve sighed, pursed her mouth. “I see.”

“Mom, please don’t,” Iris said. “Not tonight.”

“Don’t what?” Maeve said. “Express concern that my beloved daughter keeps running away from her own life?”

Iris gritted her teeth. She heard Delilah whisper a quiet “Oh shit.”

“Mom,” Aiden said, but Maeve could not be stopped.

“I’m just curious,” she said. “What happened, Iris?”

Iris pressed her fingers into her eyes. “Nothing. Just . . . nothing, okay?”

“Oh, you don’t want to talk about it,” Maeve said, folding her arms. “You never do, do you? I wish you would’ve told me before this, I would’ve invited Shelby.”

“Shelby,” Iris deadpanned.

Maeve smiled. “I went to the dentist last week. She’s a new hygienist. Cute as a button and she had on a rainbow pin, so I asked her if—”

“Stop,” Iris said. “Mom, please, just stop.”

Maeve frowned. “Sweetie, if you don’t care about dying alone, I’ll have to care enough for the both of us.”

“Mom, Jesus, dramatic much?” Aiden said.

Maeve just laughed. Aiden laughed. Addison laughed. Only her friends didn’t, their eyes on Iris, wide with concern. Iris could tell Astrid was a split second away from saying something, her fists clenched, jaw tight.

Iris shook her head slightly.

It wasn’t worth it.

“Excuse me,” Iris said, then turned and all but flung herself into the crowd. She lost herself for a while, accepting congratulations, talking about her publishing journey for those who were curious. She even spoke with Jenna for a few minutes, though neither of them mentioned Stevie.

“Sweetie?” Claire asked, finding her in the children’s section, where Iris had been hiding for a good ten minutes just to get her breath back under control.

“Hey,” Iris said.

“You okay?”

Iris shrugged. “Same old shit.”

“I’m sorry. Your mom . . . I know she loves you.”

Iris nodded. She knew her mom loved her too. She was just very sick of Maeve’s kind of love. The kind that constantly tried to fix her. Granted, it wasn’t anywhere near Isabel Parker-Green’s kind of molding, but it still stung.

“If it helps, she looked pretty horrified after you stomped off,” Claire said.

Iris cracked a smile. “It does. A bit.”

Claire smoothed her hand over Iris’s hair, and Iris leaned into her touch. It was comforting—her friends usually were—but she still felt itchy, unsettled. She wished she could blame her mother, even Emma’s absence, but if she was being honest, she’d felt like this for the better part of a month.

“Hey,” she said, an idea forming in her head. She took Claire’s hand. “Can we go to Lush tonight? All of us. To celebrate. Ruby is staying at Josh’s, right?”

Claire’s mouth dropped open. “Oh. Um . . .” Lush wasn’t exactly Claire’s scene. It wasn’t any of Iris’s friends’ scenes, not anymore, though occasionally Delilah had gone with her to the bar, then spent the entire time snapping photos of all the writhing bodies and sipping bourbon like a barfly. The mere idea of Astrid Parker in a place like that was nearly comical—all the more reason for Iris to push it.

Plus, she hadn’t been since she’d met . . .

Well.

It had been a while, and she missed her old haunt. She missed the noise, the smells, the crowd. She missed the people, the game of finding that one person who caught her eye more than most.

She missed the distraction, the sweet oblivion of someone other than herself in her bed.

I’m Stevie. Shit. I mean, I’m Stefania.

Iris shook her head, squeezed Claire’s hand. “Please? I need to let off some steam after all this buildup to publication.”