Chapter 172

Iris

I think I’ve finally found my rhythm again, after weeks of disruption. My brush moves easily across the canvas tonight as I paint a serene scene of a fat little bird sitting in a tree. That very bird is sitting in the tree outside my window, his bright yellow feathers all puffed up and glowing in the light of the setting sun.

But when the studio door slams open behind me, the bird squawks and flutters away, and I nearly smudge the colors together. I turn to see Arthur standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” I say, lowering my brush and wiping it on a cloth. “You’re home early.”

Arthur doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stares at my painting, his jaw working as if he’s chewing on words he can’t quite spit out.

“Arthur?” I set my palette down on the table beside me. “What’s wrong?”

“I tried to reject her,” he finally says. “It didn’t work.”

My hand freezes halfway to the cup of paint thinner where I was about to rinse my brush. “What do you mean it didn’t work?”

He steps into the studio, running a hand through his hair. It’s already a mess, like he’s been doing that all day. Whatever perfectly coiffed Presidential style he left with this morning is long gone by now. “I said the words. I rejected her as my mate. But… nothing happened.”

My stomach drops. “What do you mean, nothing happened?”

“I swear I said the words,” Arthur growls. “But it had no effect. I couldn’t reject her. She’s still bound to me. He scent…”

I set the brush down with hands that suddenly feel cold and numb. “I… I don’t understand. The rejection is supposed to break the bond.”

Arthur lifts his gaze to meet mine, and the raw pain in his eyes makes my stomach twist painfully. “It only works if it’s what the heart truly wants. If the rejection is genuine.”

His words feel like a slap to the face. My heart sinks, and I sink as well onto the daybed behind me. Arthur must not really want to reject Veronica. Some part of him still wants to keep the bond intact.

“Iris,” Arthur says, taking a step toward me, “it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything,” I say automatically, but it’s a lie. My mind is racing, spinning with every worst-case scenario there is. If I were to close my eyes, I’d probably only see images of them running off into the sunset together; or perhaps she’d be slithering.

“Yes, you are,” he says softly. “I can see it on your face. But you’re wrong. I want to reject her. I tried to reject her. My heart isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

Arthur drags his hand over his weary face. “I don’t know. Maybe because the bond is so new? Or because I’ve never marked her? All the stress lately? I don’t fucking know, Iris.”

I turn away from him, focusing on the half-finished painting in front of me. The fat little yellow bird suddenly seems to be staring at me, mocking me. Laughing at me. I swear I can see hateful red eyes and jeering mouths hidden in the tree branches.

“Iris, please,” Arthur says, moving closer. “You have to believe me. I only want you. Only ever you. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.”

I believe that he believes it. But I’ve been burned before—by this very man, in fact. Five years ago, Arthur chose duty over love, politics over our relationship. He entered into a contract marriage with Selina without even consulting me first, and treated me like a gold-digging mistress to be kept hidden behind closed doors and placated with money.

And now, here we are again. Another woman between us, another complication threatening our happiness.

“I need some time,” I say, standing abruptly. “I think Miles and I should go to my parents’ for the weekend.”

Arthur’s face falls. “Iris—”

“Just to think,” I clarify quickly. “I’m not… I’m not leaving you. I’m not angry with you. I just need some space to process this.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but after a moment, he nods. “I understand.”

I clean my brushes methodically, focusing on the familiar routine to keep myself from falling apart. Rinse in paint thinner, then water, then wash with soap, reshape the bristles, lay them flat to dry. Arthur watches me silently the entire time.

When I’m done, I move past him toward our bedroom. “I’ll pack a few things for Miles and me.”

“Let me help,” Arthur offers, following me.

I shake my head. “I’ve got it.”

In our room, I pull out a small suitcase and begin filling it with clothes for the weekend. Arthur hovers in the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking lost.

“Will you be at the talent show next week?” he asks.

I nod without looking at him. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.” Miles has been practicing the piano under Augustine’s instruction for days now, perfecting his performance of Mary Had a Little Lamb. If I missed this over petty drama, I’d never forgive myself.

“Iris, please look at me.”

I stop folding a shirt. Slowly, I raise my eyes to meet his.

“I love you,” he says firmly. “Only you. I’ll find a way to fix this, I promise.”

“I know you will,” I say, and I mean it. I do believe he’ll try. I’m just not sure if it’s possible.

I finish packing my things, then move to Miles’ room to gather what he’ll need. Arthur follows but keeps his distance. When I’m done, I call Miles, who’s been playing in the living room with Scout. “Little wolf, can you come here for a minute?”

He bounces into the room, toy car in hand, orange kitten trotting faithfully behind him. “What’s up, Mommy?”

I kneel down to his level. “How would you like to stay with Grandma and Grandpa this weekend? Just you and me. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Miles glances between Arthur and me, brow furrowing slightly. Perceptive as always. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” I say, forcing a smile. “I just thought it would be nice to visit them. We haven’t been over in a while.”

“Is Daddy coming?” Miles asks, looking up at Arthur hopefully.

I hesitate, unsure how to answer, but Arthur steps in smoothly. “Not this time, buddy. I’ve got some work to do here.”

“President stuff?” Miles asks.

Arthur nods. “President stuff.”

Miles seems to accept this explanation, although he’s definitely disappointed. “Okay. Can I bring Scout?”

“Of course,” I say, ruffling his hair. “Go get his toys and anything else you want to bring.”

As Miles scampers off with the cat in tow, Arthur and I are left alone again. The silence is unbearable. I hate that it’s come to this, especially so soon after we found our happiness. It feels like just yesterday that I was blissfully moving back in with him, even though now the leaves are turning orange and the temperature is dropping.

“I’ll meet you at the school for the talent show,” Arthur finally says. “Monday evening.”

I nod as I zip up Miles’ bag. “That works.”

Arthur loads our bags into the trunk while I get Miles settled in the backseat, Scout jumping in beside him. When it’s time for me to get in, Arthur catches my hand.

“Please don’t shut me out,” he says quietly, so Miles can’t hear. “Not again.”

I look up at him, at those green eyes that have always made me soften no matter how much I know I shouldn’t. “I just need some time,” I repeat. “That’s all. Time to think.”

“Okay,” he says, releasing my hand reluctantly. “I’ll miss you.”

As I slide into the car beside Miles, I can’t help the tears that spring to my eyes. I blink them back quickly, not wanting Miles to see, but it’s hard. Why does this have to happen now?

After everything we’ve been through, don’t we deserve some peace?