“No, Christian!” I snap up into his face. “I’m not going to –“ “Iris!” he shouts – and the way he does steals all the words from my mouth. For the second time in as many minutes, I just stare at him, perfectly still, shocked. Christian heaves a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down the length of his
“Drink up, you sissy!” Giana laughs, sipping at the straw of her way-too-strong bloody mary. I just cough, looking askance at mine. “G, this is like 90% vodka, 5% tomato juice, and the rest is horseradish. Honestly, it’s basically clear.” “I am freshly a widow, Iris,” Giana says, even as she lau
“Oh, grow a fucking backbone, Iris,” Giana snaps, whipping towards me to glare at me. “After what he did to you this morning? You’re still scared to do something that’s going to make your ‘sweetheart’ husband angry?” My eyes go wide as I realize that Giana didn’t push me on what happened this morn
The room is tense for a moment before Elio releases a booming laugh. I cringe away from that too – because it’s clearly fake. Too loud, too brash – just meant to break the tension in the room. We all turn towards him, Christian’s threat still alive in the tense lines of his body. “Oh, you two ne
I stand up straight, a little spooked at what’s going to come next. “Do you think you could brew a pot?” Slowly, a little smile comes to my mouth. And I nod to him, pleased to be included, pleased to have something to do, pleased to help. Pleased that he knows that I need something to do with my
The day passes quickly, mostly because I get caught up in the chaos of Giana’s life – helping her and the children pack for their mini vacation, sorting through the wreckage of the children’s room for lost bathing suits and sunglasses, ordering the fast delivery of sunscreen and other final touches.
Frankie just nods, perhaps intuiting that I’m in a mood. When I’m finished, I turn sharply towards the stairs and start towards them. “You gonna eat that in bed, Iris?” he calls. “No,” I call back over my shoulder, moving swiftly before I lose my nerve. “I’m not hungry.” If Frankie has anythin
“Iris.” There’s a hand on my shoulder, giving me a soft shake. Drowsy, my eyes slowly open and I frown, confused, looking around. But when I see who it is, I sigh, and press my eyes shut again, and turn over in the bed. “Go away, Christian.” “Iris,” he says again, sterner this time, a sigh o