“What was . . . who . . .?” Her panic-stretched eyes lock with mine. “I think I heard Caleb.”
“Nah, he’s still in China, right?”
I roll my palm over the tight curve of her thigh. Even hearing his name after what we shared feels wrong. She can’t go back to him. She needs to explain all the mystery and walk away from him. I know it has something to do with Sarai, but no judge would award him full custody. He’s an asshole, but I guess even he’s entitled to see his child. We can work out the details, but Iris can’t be part of that package anymore.
“Iris, can we talk about what just happened?”
“I have to go.” She stands, scrambling to pull up her panties and fasten the overalls. She hastily pulls the ring from the front pocket and slips it back onto her finger.
Hell, no.
“Wait.” I pull myself up, wincing at the sharp pain in my knee and taking her carefully by the shoulders. “Are you going back to him? After that? You . . . you can’t.”
“August.” She clenches her eyes shut and runs a trembling hand over her loosened hair. “I have to. You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t.” I snap, my forehead crumpling into a frown. “Explain it to me.”
“I can’t. Not right now.” She looks at the door and back to me. “I think I heard him, August. I have to go.”
Anger and frustration burn twin trails of acid in my belly.
“Whatever,” I bite out. “I’m sure you’re being paranoid, but do what you think you need to do.”
I step aside and wrench open the closet door. And outside in the hall, standing there like he just ascended from hell, stands Caleb, his eyes a murderous blue as they slide from me to the woman we both want.
Iris
If looks could kill . . .
That’s how the saying goes. Caleb doesn’t have to leave it to a look. I’ve seen what he can do with his hands. I know the sting of his belt, his shoe, or whatever is at his disposal. If we were alone right now I think he’d find a way to kill me with a Q-tip.
But we’re not alone. August stands behind me and Sarai is ahead, blinking sleepily at me from her father’s shoulder.
“What a surprise,” Caleb drawls, his eyes icy. “You just can’t stay away, can you, West?”
August isn’t touching me, but the very air stiffens. These two men hate each other. I’m only part of their mutual abhorrence, but I’m the part standing between them right now.
“Back so soon?” August’s words come easy, but there’s a tripwire running under his words, waiting for Caleb to take one wrong step. “That’s a shame.”
“When the cat’s away, huh?” A smirk distorts the firm line of Caleb’s mouth for just a second, but soon it flattens back into a hard line. “Iris, let’s go.”
He doesn’t wait to see if I’ll follow when he walks away with my baby girl. He knows I will. She looks at me over his shoulder. Her cotton-candy pink mouth wobbles, and her little chubby arms reach back toward me. She must have just awakened from a nap. She always wants me right away.
I’ve almost caught them when I’m pulled up short by my arm.
“Iris.” August stares down at me, his frown fierce and puzzled. “Don’t go with him.”
I tug free of his gentle grip. It’s the last gentle thing I’ll have for a while, but I can’t linger. Caleb has my daughter, and I’ll be lucky if social services isn’t getting another anonymous tip after this debacle. I’ll be lucky if he hasn’t already laid more traps and snares for me. I need to be a step ahead of him, but I’ve fallen behind. Surrendering to my weak desires today, I’ve fallen behind again.
“I’m not going with him.” I beg with my eyes, with my hand spread on his chest, with my heart—I beg for him to understand. I beg him with everything but my words. “I’m going withher. Sarai is my priority, August. She has to be.”
“Of course, Sarai should be your priority,” August says. “But I . . . you said I wasn’t fooling myself. That I wasn’t imagining . . .” He grimaces and tunnels long fingers through his hair—hair I clawed at and disheveled moments ago during my orgasm. It’s been so long since I came. So long since Caleb took the time to please me, to cherish me. August made me feel wanted, but not in the way Caleb wants me. Not tainted with selfishness. Not twisted with cruelty or stained with obsession. August gave me something brief and glorious, and I don’t know if I’ll ever have it again. If I walk out that door, I may never have it again.
“You aren’t fooling yourself,” I say. “It’s not that we wouldn’t be good together. Our timing’s bad.”
I hold August’s hand between both of mine, wishing I could confess everything.
What would I say?
