Page 145 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

It wasn’t worth it.

“Excuse me,” Iris said, then turned and all but flung herself into the crowd. She lost herself for a while, accepting congratulations, talking about her publishing journey for those who were curious. She even spoke with Jenna for a few minutes, though neither of them mentioned Stevie.

“Sweetie?” Claire asked, finding her in the children’s section, where Iris had been hiding for a good ten minutes just to get her breath back under control.

“Hey,” Iris said.

“You okay?”

Iris shrugged. “Same old shit.”

“I’m sorry. Your mom... I know she loves you.”

Iris nodded. She knew her mom loved her too. She was just very sick of Maeve’s kind of love. The kind that constantly tried to fix her. Granted, it wasn’t anywhere near Isabel Parker-Green’s kind of molding, but it still stung.

“If it helps, she looked pretty horrified after you stomped off,” Claire said.

Iris cracked a smile. “It does. A bit.”

Claire smoothed her hand over Iris’s hair, and Iris leaned into her touch. It was comforting—her friends usually were—but she still felt itchy, unsettled. She wished she could blame her mother, even Emma’s absence, but if she was being honest, she’d felt like this for the better part of a month.

“Hey,” she said, an idea forming in her head. She took Claire’s hand. “Can we go to Lush tonight? All of us. To celebrate. Ruby is staying at Josh’s, right?”

Claire’s mouth dropped open. “Oh. Um...” Lush wasn’t exactly Claire’s scene. It wasn’t any of Iris’s friends’ scenes, not anymore, though occasionally Delilah had gone with her to the bar, then spent the entire time snapping photos of all the writhing bodies and sipping bourbon like a barfly. The mere idea of Astrid Parker in a place like that was nearly comical—all the more reason for Iris to push it.

Plus, she hadn’t been since she’d met...

Well.

It had been a while, and she missed her old haunt. She missed the noise, the smells, the crowd. She missed the people, the game of finding that one person who caught her eye more than most.

She missed the distraction, the sweet oblivion of someone other than herself in her bed.

I’m Stevie. Shit. I mean, I’m Stefania.

Iris shook her head, squeezed Claire’s hand. “Please? I need to let off some steam after all this buildup to publication.”

Claire smiled, tilted her head. “Is that the only reason?”

Iris knew what she was getting at—whoshe was getting at—but she refused to bite.

“Of course,” Iris said, displaying her best smile. “I just want to celebrate with my friends.”

Claire kissed the back of Iris’s hand. “Okay. I’ll talk to everyone about going.”

Iris’s shoulders literally slumped in relief. “Thank you.”

“Now, are you almost ready to start?” Claire asked. “I can give you a few more minutes if you need it.”

“No,” Iris said, smoothing her dress. “I’m ready.”

“Great,” Claire said, then hooked Iris into her arms, squeezing her tight. “You know, I think she’d be really proud of you.”

Iris pulled back. She didn’t need to ask who Claire was talking about. She also knew Claire was full of shit.

Stevie Scott was anything but proud of Iris Kelly.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Iris said.