Page 110 of Fire Island
He moves toward the half bath downstairs, and I readjust my now-soaked underwear. We did not think this through. Then I remember the overnight bag we packed—I have spare panties.
I push from the sofa and grab the bag, heading up the stairs.
The shower in Iris’s room is still on.
That means . . .
My jaw drops. I scoff an amused, impressed sound. The water stops.
Shit.
I duck into the spare room and dump the bag on the bed. Unzipping it, I hunt through the mix of clothes until I find another pair of panties. Pulling the ruined ones down, I don the fresh ones. As I bundle up the dirty ones and slip them into the side pocket, a knock comes on the door.
Iris appears in a towel. “Remember pajamas this time?” The smile on her face looks similar to the one that was on mine, and I...
I clamp my mouth shut.
If Iris doesn’t want anyone to know, I’m not going to be the one to spill her secrets. Besides, Cal adores both her and Em. They should be the ones to tell him.
“Yeah, brought it all this time.”
“Good. Give me a hand in the kitchen in a sec?”
“Of course. Meet you down there.”
She pushes off the doorframe, padding down the hallway in the direction of her room.
I zip the bag back up and walk out, pulling the door closed behind me. Something feels grainy in my right eye. Damn contacts. Padding to the main bathroom, I slip in and lean into the mirror. Sure enough, the contact has shifted. I wash my hands and set it right.
It’s then I realize the mirror is framed with condensation. Steam still lingers below the ceiling.
I turn to find the shower wet.
My excitement and hope for Em and Iris deflates.
How did I get that wrong? I was certain Iris looked like she just...
A little confused and disappointed for them, I head downstairs. The boys are watching some ball game on the television when I make it to the sofa. Sliding my arms around Cal’s neck and down his chest, I lean over the back of the sofa. The ring glints in the light of the television in the darker space.
Em doesn’t notice.
At least, he doesn’t say anything if he does.
When I hear Iris walk down the stairs, I move my mouth to Cal’s ear. “I’m going to help Iris, okay?”
He turns his head, pecking my cheek before turning back to the game.
“Come on!” Em shouts. “The hell,man.”
Cal chuckles. “Sucks to be on the losing team, bud.”
I shake my head and walk to the kitchen. Iris is already plating up something that’s been bubbling away on the stove in large bowls. I suspect that’s the amazing smell we were hit with when we first arrived. She hands me a plate, and I take it with my right hand. “What is this?”
“Ah, this is the legendary McCreary stew. We start making it when fall starts to show its face.”
“That’s now?”
She chuckles. “That’s this week sometime, I think. Cal’s the weatherman.”
