Page 17 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Eight
Iris
I stretch, blinking, my eyes adjusting to the brilliant wedge of light coming through the gap between the blackout curtains. I check the clock next to the bed. Eight forty-six a.m. Yawning, I ease myself back on the pillow. It’s Saturday, and I want to sleep some more, but…
Tony’s already gone. Where did he go? I wonder vaguely, sleep still clouding my mind. He wakes up so early. Almost unnaturally so, while I’m tired and pleasantly sore from being kept up most of the night.
I should probably get up. I want to write down what happened in my notebook.
I reach into the drawer next to my side of the bed and pull out my notebook and pen. I put them there last week, planning to write my entries before going to bed because I’ve been too lax since I started working. Unfortunately, I don’t get to write anything, because Tony keeps me completely distracted. Once he starts kissing me in the evening, my brain cuts off, and all I can do is feel.
After scribbling today’s date, I lean against piled-up pillows and jot down what happened yesterday, starting with the quiet morning ride with Tony, how we told each other “I love you” for the first time (a truly momentous event). The memory still makes my heart flutter, like I just lived through it all over again. I smile, feeling teenager-giddy with love. I don’t ever remember losing my heart to anybody, so it could very well be that Tony’s my first.
But as I keep going, my mood starts to darken. Audrey’s over-the-top, self-centered visit and going to Sam’s to get the check… The arguments. The pool.
And the girl. I close my eyes, trying to conjure every possible detail, even though it’s unsettling to know so little about her. Finally, I start writing again.
Who is she? Is she alive? I hope so. And I hope there’s a way to find out who she is. She could’ve been a friend. A good one. Tony said it’s going to be hard…and seems a little reluctant to look for her. Maybe he doesn’t want to do something that’s not going to pan out…or maybe he doesn’t want to disappoint me. He doesn’t say anything, but I can sense he’s worried about me. Sometimes I feel like if he could, he’d wind bubble wrap and blankets around me and never let me go anywhere. It’s sweet, but also exasperating at times. I’m made of sterner stuff than that, aren’t I?
Yeah, sterner stuff that sinks like a rock. And can’t do anything to defend itself. My teeth clench as a wave of remembered helplessness surges through me.
Don’t think about that right now. Finish the journal entry.
On the other side of the spread, I start drawing the girl as well as I can. The oval-shaped face. Large eyes. And…the hair.
I try for a while, then stop, glaring at the portrait. What the heck is this? A bastardized girlfriend of Frankenstein’s? It’s worse than something from a kindergarten art class. If my artistic side got even ten percent of my musical talent, I wouldn’t be having this problem. I tap the end of my pen on the page, then snap the notebook shut with a huff.
Time to move on, at least for now. I should get up, have breakfast and practice the piano. I haven’t been doing that much since starting my job at the foundation. But the notion of practice doesn’t fill me with the usual joy and anticipation. Instead, restlessness crawls through me.
I stare at the cover of my notebook, frustration slowly bubbling. I can’t draw. I can’t swim. Utterly useless in the water, both when I was with the girl and yesterday.
If I’d known how to swim, I might’ve been able to save the girl in the car. If I’d learned after that, Sam’s attempt to terrorize me by pushing me into the pool would’ve failed.
The less capable I am, the more people can hurt me. A cold sliver of fear slices through me as I remember Sam’s threat to declare me incompetent. Again—all because I’m helpless.
Then there’s Tony. He’s so worried about me. He tries to hide it, but I can tell by the fleeting grimness in his gaze and the way he holds me—like I’m some fragile antique that will break at the slightest shock. I don’t want him to worry about me. I want to be his strength the way he’s mine. I want to be his equal.
And in order to do that, I need to be more capable. No more of this helpless Iris stuff.
I throw the notebook and pen back into the drawer, then put on a long shirt dress, brush my teeth and go downstairs. Tony’s already in the kitchen, placing a fresh omelet on a plate. He’s in a gray Princeton T-shirt and shorts, his feet bare. His hair’s sticking up, but he looks so approachable and adorable. I walk over and wrap my arms around him.
“Good morning.” He kisses me. “Mmm. What a sight. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. Even though somebody kept me up late.”
“Selfish bastard. You should have pushed him away.”
“I tried, but he was very good with his hands. And mouth. And everything else.”
He laughs. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” I go to the fridge to grab Greek yogurt and some fresh berries.
I sit at the counter next to Tony, who is munching on his omelet and bacon. My coffee is already waiting. I take a sip. Ahh. Hot and strong, just the way I like it.
I glance at his food. The bacon looks exceptionally crispy, and suddenly I’m in the mood for a bite. “Do you mind?” I ask, gesturing.
His eyebrows rise. “Sure.”
