Chapter 58

Iris

For a long moment, I just stare at the television, completely dumbfounded.

“It appears that this new artist, who calls herself ‘Flora’, has a bone to pick with our lovely Luna-to-be,” the news anchor says, shaking her head with a sigh. “I mean, what could she possibly dislike about Selina?”

The other anchor scoffs. “I have no words. Selina is a kind, charitable woman who any citizen of Ordan should be proud of…”

“Well,” the other anchor says, leaning in, “from what I hear, Flora isn’t even from Ordan! She’s from Bo’Arrocan, and a human as well.”

“That explains—”

I don’t realize that my feet have moved of their own accord until the television suddenly goes black. My fingers tremble around the remote as I set it down. Cliff and Miles glance up at me from the sofa.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Miles asks, cocking his head.

I force a smile and ruffle his dark hair. “Nothing, sweetheart. I think you’ve just had enough TV time for today.”

Miles doesn’t look disturbed by that, and returns to what he was doing with Cliff. Sighing, I make my way back to the kitchen, where Augustine is seated at the counter island. I move past her and turn on the electric kettle, avoiding her gaze as the water boils.

“I can’t stand that woman,” her soft voice suddenly says.

My head snaps up, and I turn to look at her. “Who?”

“You know who,” Selina replies, nodding her head toward the dark television.

I feel my stomach twist uncomfortably at that. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if Selina intentionally framed that conversation today to make me look bad. I’m pretty sure she does have feelings for Arthur after all, and she wants to push me out of Ordan by ruining my tentative reputation here.

“Well, everyone else in Ordan seems to love her,” I say bitterly, taking the electric kettle off the burner and pouring the hot water into two cups. I add a tea bag to each and set one of the mugs in front of Augustine, then take a seat at the counter across from her.

The elderly woman eyes me as she stirs her tea. “Not me,” she admits. “Not Cliff.”

I frown, recalling the first day I tried to speak to Augustine again. The very thought makes a black pit form in my low belly. “When you thought I was Selina, you said you ‘wouldn’t fall for my tricks again’,” I muse. “Did she do something to you?”

Augustine’s eyes darken. “She doesn’t like the fact that Arthur is still living here, in the home that you two once shared.” She waves her hand, gesturing to the apartment around us. “And since he won’t capitulate to her demands to leave, she has done nothing but harass dear Cliff and I.”

“What has she done?”

She scoffs. “What has she not done?” She takes a sip of her tea. “Once, she left a dead rat on my doorstep with a note attached to it, claiming it was from Arthur. I think she thought I would believe it and kick Arthur out.”

I can’t help but shudder. Arthur is a lot of things, but he’s not nearly that cruel. “He’d never do something like that,” I murmur.

“I know. When I told Arthur what she’d done, he apologized profusely and gave me an enormous, expensive gift basket. I’m not sure why he stayed with her after that, though.”

Of course, I know why he stayed with her, and the thought makes my mouth taste bitter. Letting our old friend be harassed by Selina, all for a bit of extra power that her family provides… It makes me sick.

Suddenly, Augustine says, “You should be careful, dear. She’s certainly not happy that you’ve returned to Ordan.” She nods toward the television once more. “She’ll stop at nothing to make you leave again.”

My face flushes, and I look away, glancing over at where Cliff and Miles are reading a picture book in the living room. I have no intention of getting back together with Arthur—but the last thing I want is for Miles to be alienated from his father, or worse, harassed in public and on the news like me.

I have to protect him. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep him safe.

Suspiciously, Arthur doesn’t come home all day or evening, and I don’t hear from him once. By the time I’m putting Miles to bed and I still haven’t seen or heard from Arthur, I’m beginning to wonder if he’s with Selina.

I know, of course, that I shouldn’t technically care if he’s with her. I shouldn’t care where he is at all, honestly.

But I can’t help it. The thought of him with her, sinking her claws into his neck like the she-wolf she is, makes me uncomfortable.

I try not to think about it, and instead get to work in my studio. I finish up the rainy diner painting and move onto the next: a television, the screen blaring with static, sitting in the middle of a dark room.

I’m halfway through sketching out the outline of the image when I receive an email on my phone. Opening it, my chest lurches with excitement.

“Dear Flora,” the email reads. “It is with great pleasure that we inform you that your initial residency application to Abbott Gallery has been accepted! However, this is just the preliminary application; please prepare a presentation on your body of work for the second round. Best of luck to you.”

The email fills me with hope for the first time all day, and I get right to work on my presentation. I spend hours sitting on the floor of my studio with my laptop in front of me, ensuring that my presentation is absolutely perfect.

It has to be, because I need this residency. Not only will the funds be massively helpful right now, but the temporary housing would be a perfect solution to many of my troubles. It will allow Miles and me to get out of Arthur’s home, and more importantly, away from Selina.

I spend most of the night working, only trudging to bed in the guest room when it’s past three in the morning. I pass out the second my head hits the pillow.

The following morning, I wake up to the sensation of tiny kitten paws batting at my toes through the blankets. I crack my eyes open to find Scout playing around my feet. Miles is gone, likely scrounging through the kitchen for breakfast.

Yawning, I pull on my robe then scoop the little orange kitten up, scratching his ears as I make my way downstairs.

“How does a saucer of milk sound, little guy?” I coo, rubbing him beneath the chin. The kitten purrs happily, making me smile. I hope the artist residency allows cats in the apartment.

As I round the corner to the kitchen, something catches my eye in the living room. I walk over to see Arthur laying on the couch, and my heart stops in my chest. He’s not alone.

Miles is sleeping on his chest, sucking his thumb. Arthur’s arms are wrapped securely around him, his face softened in sleep, that lone curl falling across his forehead. He’s still wearing his white button-down, the top button undone, and his work trousers as if he came home from the office and fell asleep right away.

For a moment, I just stare at the scene, my heart breaking in a thousand places.

They look so… peaceful. At ease. As if they’ve never slept properly until this moment.

And suddenly, the thought of leaving almost makes me sick. If only they could have countless mornings like this, snuggling together on the sofa before Miles is too old to enjoy such things.

If only…

Just then, the doorbell rings, startling Scout out of my arms. He leaps to the floor with grace, scampering beneath the couch. Arthur’s eyes snap open and lock on me right away, making my face heat.

“I was just—” I begin, realizing I’ve been caught staring.

But Arthur is already getting up, carefully placing the stirring Miles on the sofa.

“That’ll be the nanny,” he says, brushing his hair back as he makes his way to the front door.