Page 115 of The Cupid Chronicles

“You too. Back to work. We don’t need to stand here and talk about my love life,” I say.

“I kind of feel like we do,” Nicola says.

“We don’t.” I wave them off.

They look at each other again, and I wait for them to get the point. The subject is closed. At least for now.

Nicola sighs and walks away, but Val stays behind. “Just go slow, Tay. And remember—you deserve to be happy.”

As the commotion of the day resumes and I get back to work, I sit with that.

Do I really deserve to be happy? Iwashappy once.Sohappy.

Is anyone lucky enough to feel that way twice? And isn’t it selfish to want to?

As if by some cosmic coincidence, my phone dings and I see a text come in from my grandpa. He’s not great with texting and always prefers to talk on the phone . . . unless he’s sending a photo.

I open the message, and I’m met by his smiling face, off-center and slightly out of focus. It’s a selfie of him and Elena, and he’s grinning. In the background, I see a huge Italian spread, and I can practically taste the entire meal.

Underneath the image, Grandpa has texted:

Grandpa

I hope you know the joy of a beautiful night with beautiful company and a full belly. Let’s catch up this week! Elena says hello!

He’s sentimental, and it makes me smile.

And somehow, losing my grandma made him appreciate his time here on earth, while losing Aria made me resent mine.

Half a world away, and he’s still taking me to school.

I try to focus on the tasks in front of me, but I’m mostly counting down the hours until Iris is off work and I get to see her again.

When she shows up, Val and Nicola sweep her back into the storage room, probably to get the play-by-play of everything that happened. When Bear interrupts them, they push him out and slam the door. He looks at me, and we both shrug, because women will never make sense.

After another loud and raucous family dinner, I pull Iris into my office, close the door, and press her up against it. “To make sure nobody comes in.”

She smiles and wraps her arms up around my neck while my hands circle her waist and I kiss the heck out of her, because I’ve pretty much been thinking about her skin since I woke up this morning. My goal here is to leave her breathless and weak-kneed, but my plan backfires when I’m the one who has to pull away and calm myself down. “You’re . . . really good at that.”

“You’re really easy to kiss.” She grins. “But now you needto get to work, and I’m working on some art show details tonight.” Her eyes light up. “Hey, would you maybe cater it?”

“Cater an elementary school art show?” I ask.

“Yes! It would be amazing, I want it to feel sort of fancy for the kids,” I say. “Not like your usual cookies and punch kind of event.” She shrugs. “I want it to be special. High class. An experience!”

I love this about her. Most people would do the bare minimum of what’s expected of them, but that never occurs to Iris.

She is not halfway.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She tilts her head and studies me.

“Just thinking those kids are lucky to have you,” I say.

“Au contraire, my friend. I’m the lucky one,” she says. “They’re such great kids. I told them we’re going to dress fancy and eat like kings and queens.”

I smile. “Happy to make sure the food fits the occasion.”

“Yes!” She kisses me, quickly this time, and it’s so soft and familiar, it leaves me undone.

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