Iris Kelly Doesn't Date (Bright Falls, #3)(2)
Emma was currently sitting across from Iris at the redwood patio table, her red hair cut into a sensible, advertising executive bob, smirking at the whole situation. Emma thought her mother’s setups were hilarious, and she also knew Iris would never, in a million years, go for someone Maeve dragged home.
Mostly because Iris hadn’t gone for anyone at all in over a year.
“Have you ever done HIIT?” Zach asked now. “Feels like you’re going to die while you’re in the throes, but whew, what a rush!”
Emma snorted a laugh, then covered it by patting her newborn on the back.
Iris scratched her cheek with her middle finger.
Meanwhile, Aiden, Iris’s brother and the eldest of the three Kelly siblings, was running around in the backyard growling like a bear, chasing his twin seven-year-old daughters, Ava and Ainsley, through the dusky golden light. Iris seriously considered joining them—a good game of tag seemed like a better way to spend an evening than this tenth circle of hell.
Of course, Iris had expected this. Just last month, at a gathering to celebrate Aiden’s move from San Francisco to Portland, Iris had found herself seated next to her mother’s hairstylist at dinner, a lovely lavender-haired woman named Hilda who led off the conversation by asking if Iris was a fan of guinea pigs. Iris then spent the next week wasting at least five thousand words on her novel as Tegan wandered around looking for a meet-cute in a PetSmart. She’d ended up scrapping the whole thing, then promptly blamed her mother for the horrible inspiration.
“You know that stuff will kill you,” Zach said, nodding toward her soda and smiling wryly, showing all of his perfect teeth. He was a white guy—blond hair, blue eyes—but he was also vaguely . . . orange. Iris had to bite back a reply about tanning beds and skin cancer.
“Oh, see if you can get her to drink more water, Zach,” Maeve said as she came outside with a tray of homemade veggie burgers for the grill.
“Water is really the only thing I drink,” he said, leaning his elbows on his knees, admittedly impressive biceps flexing. “That and the occasional cup of green tea.”
“Jesus Christ,” Iris said, chugging back some more soda.
“What was that?” Zach said, leaning closer to her. His salty-piney cologne washed over her—a tsunami rather than a gentle wave—and she coughed a little.
“I said cheese and crackers,” she said, slapping the table and standing up. She tugged at her cropped green sweater, which just barely covered her midriff. “I think we need some.”
“Cheese and crackers, cheese and crackers!” Ava and Ainsley both chanted in between giggles and squeals from the yard, where Aiden had them both hoisted over his broad shoulders. Their long auburn hair nearly brushed the grass.
Aiden deposited the girls on the top porch step, and Iris immediately pounced, grabbing their tiny hands with her own. She moved so fast, she imagined she looked like a vulture descending from the sky, but honestly, she didn’t care. She would one hundred percent use her adorable nieces to get her out of this situation.
“I can get it, honey,” her mother said, depositing the platter of burgers into her husband’s hands and moving back toward the door.
“No!” Iris yelled. She slapped on a smile and softened her voice. “I can do it, Mom, you take a load off.”
And with that, she pulled Ava and Ainsley into the house, walking so fast their gangly legs nearly tangled with hers. She managed to get all three of them inside without ending up in a heap on the floor and bustled the two little girls into the kitchen through some carefully curated tickles.
Aromas of baking bread and sugar greeted them. Emma’s husband, Charlie, was mashing potatoes in a giant blue ceramic bowl, forearms flexing, while Aiden’s wife, Addison—resplendent in a belted shirt dress and ruffly apron—laid strips of pastry over what looked like a rhubarb and strawberry pie. It was like a fucking Norman Rockwell painting in here.
Iris waved at her siblings-in-law, then quickly located the charcuterie platter on the butcher block island her mother had already prepared. She immediately stuffed a rectangle of cheddar in her mouth, then spread a smear of brie onto a sesame seed cracker before dipping the whole thing into a tiny stainless steel cup full of locally sourced honey.
“Easy,” Addison said as the twins reached for their own snacks. “Don’t ruin your appetites.”
Iris stuffed another delectable, meal-ruining square of bliss into her mouth. Addison was nice, and she and Iris had always gotten along okay, but the woman still dressed the twins in matching outfits, braided their hair in the same styles, and ran a mommy blog about how to balance style with efficiency in the home. She also had a tiny long-haired chihuahua named Apple, cementing their only A-names allowed household.
Not that there was anything wrong with any of that, but Iris, whose apartment was an amalgam of mismatched furniture and housed a drawerful of various sex toys in both of her nightstands, was never quite sure how to bond with her sister-in-law. Especially when Addison said shit like Don’t ruin your appetites to kids eating tiny cubes of cheese.
Iris made a point to slather the honey extra thick onto her next cracker. Conveniently, this also meant her mouth was practically glued shut when her mother bustled into the kitchen, eyes aglow and fixed on Iris.
“So?” Maeve said. “What do you think?” Behind her, both Aiden and Emma, along with baby Christopher, spilled into the room.