Page 10 of Crystal Iris #1

I want to follow her, to disappear without having to excuse myself. I mumble, “Wait for me,” and watch as she makes her way toward the yard. I pop another olive in my mouth.

To my left, sitting in a leather chair, Aaron is giving his dad a full report on his latest transaction. Next to his father, he still looks like a scared little boy.

On my other side, his grandparents are dozing off on the couch.

I envy Aaron sometimes—even with their issues, his family is still around.

I’m all alone, have been for quite some time.

My dad’s parents stepped in to take care of me after he left.

I know he asked them to. Growing up, I often wondered if they still talked to him, but they told me, many times, “We get his check every month; otherwise, we wouldn’t even know if he’s still alive.

” During the first year after he left, I begged them to bring him back, to apologize for whatever I had done to make him leave.

No matter how much I cried, they only hugged me and said, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. ”

I still talk to my aunt Sheila once in a while. Apparently, Dad disappeared from all their lives when he left, and now his sister lives somewhere in Atlanta .

And then there’s my mom’s side of the family.

They could be tight-knit, but I wouldn’t know.

I never met them . Apparently, Mom left their abusive household when she was young and never looked back.

My dad didn’t like talking much about them.

I know I have cousins, but I don’t even know their names.

I’ve searched my mom’s maiden name enough times to accept that they could be anyone.

Maria and Peyton are discussing shoes, and I find myself bored on Christmas Eve.

There’s not a single thing to do. No food to prepare, no dishes to clean, no last-minute errands to run—not with the number of servants they have to handle everything.

Judging by the perfectly crisp and neatly wrapped presents under the tree, they haven’t bothered to wrap a single gift themselves.

I retire early to the bedroom, and no one seems to care.

Aaron kisses me and says he’ll be up soon.

I unpack my suitcase and hang my clothes in the empty closet.

The bedroom is comfortable, with a large television and a couch across from the bed.

I slip off my shoes and massage my foot—I’m definitely tired.

I must have fallen asleep with the movie still on because I hear Aaron shutting it off when he comes to bed.

“Merry Christmas,” I say for the tenth time as I pour myself coffee. I feel much happier after a full night of sleep.

“Can we open them yet?” I hear Rick ask Peyton again.

“Not until everybody is down,” she tells him.

“But Mom…”

“No buts. Your great-grandparents want to see you open your gifts too.” She’s firm enough that he sits down.

The boys are too old for Santa, but too young to have much patience. I’m on my second cup when I hear footsteps.

“Here they are,” says Tucker, the twin .

“All right, now, one at a time,” Steve says as he hands out the gifts to his kids.

“Lower your expectations,” I say, handing Aaron my gift.

“You forget we’ve been exchanging gifts for over a decade. My expectations are as low as possible,” he says with a smile.

“Asshole,” I mutter, kicking him.

His mother glances at me, clearly disapproving of my foul language.

“I was looking into getting one of these,” Aaron says, thanking me.

“Really?” I knew it; I had asked his secretary for recommendations. The espresso machine I picked has more functions than the car we drove here.

I come back from the bathroom to find three presents by my chair. The first one holds an expensive wallet from Maria. The second, an engraved pen from Don. The third, chocolates from his cousins. I’m just finishing my thanks when Aaron walks over with a box.

“Aaron, another gift?”

“This one’s for both of us.”

I open the lid to find our wedding invitations.

I pick one up; the paper is incredibly delicate and beautiful.

A pile of elegant pale blue envelopes sits on the side.

I had given the wedding planner, Chiara, free rein to decide on these things after getting overwhelmed by the options and constant decisions.

“Do you like them?” Aaron asks, still waiting for my response.

“Of course. I didn’t realize they were already here.”

“They sent them here by mistake, actually.”

“Oh, I see.” Something tells me it’s no accident that his mother received the box instead of us.

The twins scream with excitement when they open Aaron’s gift to them. It turns out everyone gives better gifts than I do.

With nothing else to open, we move on to breakfast. The table is filled with a buffet of omelettes, pastries, yogurt, and fruit.

His parents sit across from me, and from the looks on their faces, it’s clear they’re still waiting for a big surprise from their son—as if the wine bottles we gave them were just a tease.

Despite of the delicious food, my mouth tastes sour at the thought.

I didn’t grow up that way. Even with my parents gone, I had enough time with them to understand how sad that kind of greed is.

“Are you done unpacking, Iris?” His mom sips her coffee.

“I haven’t… moved yet.” I search for Aaron.

“She’s still packing, Mom.”

“Oh, it’s been months, no?” She acts surprised.

“I’ve been… busy. With work,” I tell her.

“She is, after all, a Harvard professor, Maria,” Don says, winking at me. For fuck’s sake, I don’t need his help. I am, after all, a Harvard professor.

Don and Maria were never on board with their son dating the poor, messed-up girl whose dad disappeared.

To them, I was broke and broken, a headache that needed to go away.

I was sixteen when his mom told me, “You’re holding my son back.

You’ll never make him happy.” She even offered me money to break up with Aaron.

He had forgiven his parents, but those words still hurt.

Even now, after all these years, I can tell they still look at me the same way—a liability.

A while later, Aaron finds me reading a book in bed and sits next to me.

“Can I hide in here with you?” he asks.

“I’m not… sure.”

“I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

I put my book down. “That might break the record.”

He gives me a tired smile. “Two more days. I don’t know if I can make it. ”

“You can’t make it? How do you think I feel? Thank goodness for Peyton and the kids. At least your mom has someone else to…”

“Terrorize?”

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

Dinner is exactly what I expect: uncomfortable conversations that are better left unsaid, like this one:

“So… how much money did you make this year, Aaron? I saw your name in the papers last week,” Steve asks.

“Steve!” Peyton makes a face.

“Like you don’t want to know,” Steve says, taking one too many sips of his beer.

“It’s rude to talk money at the table, cousin,” Aaron says, already used to the comments.

“How’s school, Rick?” Aaron asks the boy closest to him.

“Fine. I’m going pro, so whatever.”

“Rick can kick both of our asses on the field,” Steve says, chewing with his mouth open.

“That, I have no doubt,” Don replies.

They all laugh.

“Any plans for kids of your own?” Peyton asks. Every. Single. Year.

“Who knows? Let’s get married first,” Aaron says without a hint of stress. We’ve talked about kids, and both of us agreed we’re not ready for them.

“We’re close to finalizing the details. Let’s hope we don’t have a very hot summer,” Maria says, talking about my wedding like it’s hers.

“I didn’t know you were helping Chiara,” I say, pretending I didn’t know.

“Of course. Chiara is great, but someone needs to... supervise.”

When Aaron told me his mom had recommended Chiara, I wanted to veto it, but in the end, it was probably good that someone cared about the infinite details I couldn’t bring myself to focus on.

“Right.” I can’t find the words. Perhaps it was a mistake to ignore my bridal duties. Whatever his mom is planning, it’s not out of love for the marriage.

I’m coming out of the shower when I hear a knock on the bedroom door.

“Just a second!” I call, wrapping a towel around my body.

“It’s me.”

Whatever she wants, it can’t be good.

“Hi,” I say, opening the door to my future mother-in-law, my hair still dripping wet.

She walks in, looking around the room, judging everything her eyes land on.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“You tell me,” she replies.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious you don’t want to marry my son, so what do you want?”

“What?”

“Only a fool wouldn’t see it, Iris. You don’t love him. I’m not sure if you ever did.”

“You should leave.”

“Perhaps this has been your plan all along, waiting for Aaron to make the big bucks. You were smart to push me away then; Aaron is worth a lot more now.”

“I… I signed the prenup, Maria. I’m not after his money. But I don’t care if that’s what you think.” I start to move toward the door, my hand almost reaching the doorknob when Aaron opens it from the other side .

“Mom?”

His presence startles her.

“I was…”

“She was just asking me about my wedding dress.”

She looks at me, surprised.

“Oh, good,” Aaron says, sitting on the couch.

His mom leaves immediately, looking confused by my choice of words.

I take a seat and tell Aaron the truth . He asks if I want to leave. I can’t move; I just sit there, still dripping wet. It’s one thing to wonder if his parents still feel the same way about me, but it’s another to hear the confirmation.

“Iris, come here.” He hugs me, and my prism responds to my feelings, lighting up between us.

“What the fuck?” he says, backing away.

I realize Aaron hasn’t seen my necklace act abnormally yet. I’m used to it by now.

“Yeah, it does that when it gets wet and... and when I’m feeling vulnerable.”

“I didn’t... know. Akira mentioned something about evil. I thought she was just being... Akira.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of it. It’s only a light.”

He lifts his index finger and starts to move closer to me. The light goes out before he reaches it.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? About your necklace? I thought we told each other everything.” He’s hugging me again.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all I can say without crying. What the hell am I doing?