Pasta straight out of a box.
The pressure in my chest intensifies as I consider all the times she cooked for me over the weeks. It might not have been gourmet, but I didn’t care so long as she kept me company.
Company I no longer have because I drove her away.
I set up two placemats without thinking much of it. It takes me a whole ten minutes before I realize my mistake, and my throat tightens to the point of difficulty breathing. I try to eat but everything tastes like cardboard to me.
The churning in my gut gets progressively worse as I dump my half-finished plate of pasta in the sink and go upstairs. No matter where I go, I can’t escape my mistakes. Even my damn bedroom isn’t safe. The memories of Iris assault me the moment I enter, with her perfume lingering in the air.
Her hair tie on the dresser. Some random heel left abandoned in a corner during a hookup. A framed photo of us on our wedding day, with her smiling up at me while I scowl at the camera.
I grip my chest, wishing for the tightness to stop. My hands tremble and I take a few deep breaths, trying to curb the anxiety attack before it starts.
You never deserved her.
No. I didn’t yet I wanted her anyway.
I miss my wife. She belongs next to me, complaining about how I like to cuddle although she secretly loves it. I’d do anything to hear her groan about my alarm clock in the morning or for the grumpy kiss I get before I crawl out of bed to go work out.
I slide under my comforter after my shower and stare up at the ceiling, surrounded by the smell of Iris’s coconut body wash. No position feels comfortable without her.
You’re fucked.
I turn over for the third time and stare at the cactus she bought me two years ago.
Don’t be a prick.
I’ll try. Just for her.
44
DECLAN
I arrive at Cal’s doorstep at 8 a.m. with a coffee in hand, ready to talk to Iris. I’m running on limited sleep and a lot of caffeine after an endless night of tossing and turning.
My brother opens the door wearing a suit and tie, which is out of the norm given he doesn’t even have a job to go to.
“Where are you going?”
“Work.” He shuts his front door and locks it.
“Since when do you have a job?”
“Since you needed an assistant.”
My mouth drops open. “What?”
“Iris isn’t coming in today.”
“Like hell she isn’t. Her two weeks haven’t even started.”
He laughs. “Maybe you should check your email.”
I frown as I pull out my phone and scan my inbox. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. She’s taking a two-week vacation, starting today.”
“No, she’s not.”
He actually grins. “Are you giving me a ride to work or not?”
“Why are you enjoying this?”
“Because it’s nice to watch someone finally put you in your place. Did you really think you could talk to her the way you did and expect her to go into work for two weeks?”
My molars smash together. “I want to talk to her.”
“She’ll speak to you when she’s ready.”
“Then I guess I’ll be the one to do the talking then.” I steal his keys straight out of his hand and unlock the door before he has a chance to grab them.
“Dec—”
I slam the door in my brother’s face and turn the deadbolt before he has a chance to get in.
“Open the damn door!” He pounds his fist against the wood.
I throw his keys on the side table before following the music straight toward the kitchen. Iris’s eyes immediately latch onto mine.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought you coffee.” I step close enough to pass her the cup.
She stares down at it like it might be poisonous. “You came here to bring me coffee?”
“No. I came here to talk to you. Coffee is merely a bribe for your time.”
“I don’t want your bribes. Not anymore.”
“Fine. Maybe later.” I place it on the counter.
“Should I even ask how you got in here?”
“I stole Cal’s keys and locked him out.”
“Declan—”
“I miss you.”
“It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you last saw me.”
“The addiction gene runs strong in my family. Take pity on your husband.”
She only scowls at my joke. I refuse to lose hope, although the way she looks at me makes me question it for a moment.
“I miss you so damn much, I don’t know what to do with myself. The house is too quiet and the bathroom is far too clean. Even pasta doesn’t taste the same without you cooking it.”