Wildflower (8 page)

Iris was terrified of losing herself wholeheartedly — again.  She had loved Peter with every ounce of her being and had willingly sacrificed her needs to fulfill his. It was love that made the sacrifice seem worth it. It was devotion that made her persevere even when all seemed lost.  But when Peter walked out on her, it was as if he’d put her heart in his back pocket and forgot it was there — sitting on it, lying on it, squashing it — totally oblivious that he still had her heart.  She didn’t want that again. She couldn’t handle that again.

When Preston said he wanted her, she was reticent. He said he needed her, that he could not imagine his life without her.  She was happy to be his wildflower.  That didn’t take much effort.  All she had to do was smile and remind him from time to time that he was important to her.  That was easy.  She didn’t have to give him her heart to be his wildflower.

But now, as they entered their sixth week of dating, Preston wanted more.  She’d been willing to risk her heart before. It was all a part of life and living.  But Preston was something of a mystery to her.  He wanted too much too fast and her head was spinning from the pace of it all. Could she allow herself to be emotionally naked and vulnerable once again?

She rolled over and wrapped her arm around his slender waist.  He held her hand in his, backing into her, snuggling tighter — allowing her to spoon him flesh to flesh.  She kissed his back between the shoulder blades.  It was salty and moist — sweaty from their rigorous romp a few minutes ago.

“Okay, I’ll go,” she conceded.  “I’ll go with you to your brother’s engagement party.”

He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly, then rolled over to face her.

“You think I’m moving too fast, don’t you?” he asked.

She nodded. “I mean, I’ve been down this road before and I’m a bit more cautious than you.”

“No need to be. I won’t hurt you.”

If I had a dime,
she thought.  His intentions were good. Peter’s had been, too, yet here she was watching her dream with Peter happen for someone else — with her best friend, no doubt.

Iris sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling from the side.  She looked back at Preston who watched her with his hand on her back, caressing slowly, barely moving.

“What time are you meeting with the realtor?” she asked.

“One.”

“I still don’t understand what I have to offer — why do you want me to come along?” She thought about it for a moment. “Maybe it’ll be fun.”

“I just think since this is your city, you can inform me on whether it’s a good location or not or if I’m getting a deal or not.”

“Isn’t that what you have a realtor for?”

He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back then rolled on top of her, kissing her lips softly.

She rolled him over and pinned his arms above his head. “Would you like breakfast?”

He nodded.

She leaned down and kissed him, then climbed out of the bed.

“Can I have some coffee, too?”

“You’re pushing it, Mister,” she said jokingly.

Peter arrived in Chicago because Richard had told him that Iris’ mother died. Since Iris wasn’t answering his calls, he decided he’d show up, see her face-to-face. He expected that she’d be happy to see him. She’d said as much when he saw her at the cleaners six weeks ago — she had said, “It’s good to see you, too.”  He remembered that. He believed her, too. Why wouldn’t she be glad to see him? He’d been her provider and fantasy lover. There was no way she wouldn’t be overjoyed to see him.  He wanted to watch her eyes twinkle when she saw him. Maybe she’d jump into his arms, and he’d get to feel her warm, inviting body pressed against his. He was ready for it. He wanted it.

He wore a short sleeve crew neck shirt that flattered his abs and pectorals. She liked his hard body when they were married, so he figured he’d give her a thrill and let her see what she’d been missing.  Who could resist him, anyway? Every woman he’d ever met was impressed by his ripped body. Didn’t women love tall, strong men? He was all of that and more.

He prepared two coffees on the Keurig. One black, just the way Iris liked it. The other with cream, the way he liked it. He sat at the table situated by the window near the dual fireplace. It wasn’t lit. It was too hot for that.  But sitting near the fireplace had a romantic flair. She’d like that. What woman wouldn’t? She’d be putty in his hands, but he’d have to quell those thoughts because just then his phone vibrated. It was Sara. He was tempted to hit ignore but it might’ve been important, especially since she was so close to her due date.

***

Iris entered the kitchen, twirling the ends of her curls, smiling as she thought about abandoning breakfast and joining Preston in the shower. But she wanted to make breakfast for Idris who’d let her live there rent-free.  She hoped that she and Preston hadn’t gotten too loud last night. She’d hate to have disturbed Idris.

She felt Idris’ presence in the kitchen and said good morning.  She opened the refrigerator and pulled out eggs and T-bone steaks — Idris loved T-bone for breakfast with his eggs and she thought it’d be a nice treat for Preston, too.  When she closed the door, she saw a hand reaching around the entrance wall by the refrigerator with a full hot cup of coffee.  She laughed at his silliness and took the cup, thanking him.  After he’d moved up beside her, she closed her eyes and leaned over to kiss his cheek.  When she felt the sharp pricks of a coarse stubbly beard, which Idris did not have, she simultaneously jumped back and opened her eyes, dropping the coffee mug, steaks and carton of eggs as she did.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, smiling from ear-to-ear.

“Peter? What are you doing here?”

She noticed he wasn’t wearing his wedding band. What was that about?  Two things came to mind. Either he was trying to hide the fact that he was married or he wanted an opportunity to tell her about it without the ring being a spoiler before he had a chance. She decided she’d go along with his farce — see where it led.

He smelled good, as always. When he opened his arms, she chose not to step into them. She didn’t want a hug. She couldn’t handle it. It held too many memories for her. She’d been riled up ever since she saw him with Sara, and she didn’t want to keep feeling that way.  She cleaned up the mess from the floor then walked to the table, pulled out the chair, and sat down.

“Why are you here, Pea,” she said, cutting through the silence.

“You look really good, Iris.”

“How’d you get in? I didn’t hear the buzzer or the door.”

“Idris let me in.”

“Idris let you in?” She got up to go confront Idris but Peter stopped her.

“He went into the office early so you and I could have some time alone to talk.”

For the moment, she’d forgotten that Preston was in the shower. All she wanted was for Peter to get to the point. Why did he need to be there, in person? She already suspected that he’d spill the beans about Sara. Did she want to hear it now? Did she need him to confess even though she saw the truth for herself?  Would hearing him say the words give her a sense of relief from the betrayal she felt, or would she feel worse? Now, she wasn’t even sure if she cared. She just wanted to move forward with her life.

“First, I want to extend my condolences. I’m so sorry about your mother. I know that was a difficult relationship for you and I know how the loss must make you feel.”

“Thank you, Pea – Peter, I appreciate it.  I know you understand.  Your sister, Amanda, was a great loss for you and I saw how, after all the years she’s been gone, you still hurt over it. So, I do appreciate your condolences. But you could’ve told me that over the phone. You didn’t need to make a special trip to Chicago to tell me that.”

“Yes, I did. You weren’t answering my calls. Besides, you were there for me when I needed you. I wanted to make sure I’d be here for you.”

Warmth washed over her. Just for the moment, it felt like old times with Peter — the Peter she married ten and a half years ago. She looked down towards her robed lap, remembering the past. Remembering her mother. Remembering her marriage — the good parts.

“I made a mistake,” he reached his hand across the table to hold hers but she pulled away quickly and folded her arms across her chest.  He continued, “I should never have left you the way that I did. You deserved better than that.”

She nodded. Finally, he realized she was worth more than showing up on the eve of their wedding anniversary with divorce papers, bifurcated, to expedite their divorce status.  She was floored when he asked her to sign the papers right then and there. It came out of nowhere.

He went on, “You were good to me and I took you for granted.”

He sounded contrite, as he should. So far, she agreed with his assessment of how things were. Certainly these were things he could have told her on the phone.  These were things she could’ve easily heard him say without having to looking him in his eyes.

“I want us to have a second chance,” he said.

What? Had he gone mad? A second chance? At what? Breaking her heart? He wasn’t effective enough in shredding it into pieces the first time?

“How’s that supposed to happen, Pea?”

He didn’t answer. Maybe he was contemplating her question. She wasn’t sure what the stare out the window meant. All she knew was she wanted him to explain to her how it would be possible to have a second chance when he was already married with a baby on the way.

She pushed away from the table, jarring it as she stood. He reached across the table and tugged her arm gently but she snatched away.

“Please, Iris. Sit down. Please.”

This was her opportunity to send him on his way and never look back. If she sat down, then what? Would he talk himself back into her heart? Peter sitting there looking vulnerable didn’t help, either. She’d not ever seen him look that way.  It would have been easy for her to get lost in his eyes, take his words at face value, and get sucked back into his life only for things to go back to the way they’d always been… Iris doing all the adapting.

But, he had said ‘please’ twice in the same sentence. Very unusual. She sat erect in the chair with her hands folded on the table. She didn’t want him to feel comfortable.

What was taking her so long?

Preston unwrapped the towel from his body and tossed in on the tousled bed covers. He slipped on his boxer briefs, which fit him snuggly.  He didn’t bother with a shirt and he allowed his dreadlocks to flow freely. He’d usually tie them back but Iris loved his dreadlocks, especially when they were loose.

As he approached the kitchen, he heard voices. One male, the other clearly Iris’.  Then he heard something familiar. That voice. That tone. The familiar voice said, “I want us to have a second chance.”

It was his brother, Peter.

What was he doing here?

He peeked around the corner quietly, trying not to be seen or heard. He saw his brother, who he hadn’t seen in the better part of fifteen years, holding hands with the woman he wanted to call his own.  It was crazy. He never believed in love at first sight. But now, especially seeing her holding hands with Peter, he realized how deep his feelings really were.

He leaned against the entrance wall near the refrigerator where he could hear them clearly but couldn’t be seen. He listened to Peter plead with Iris.

***

Peter wanted to kiss her. There was something sweet and innocent about the way she looked when she was lost in her own thoughts. Her hair had tumbled forward into her face. She didn’t bother moving it.

He got up and sat beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Kissing her neck, he felt the wetness on her skin and noticed tears streaming down her face, her bottom lip quivering.

He turned her chair so that she was facing him and wiped the tears with his thumbs, gently kissing her lips. She turned away, not allowing his kiss to be much more than a passing impression.

“What’s the matter, baby?”

She shook her head, got up and walked around him.

“Nothing.”

She put a mug under the spout of the Keurig, then selected a K-cup flavor, shoving it into the receptacle to brew. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close.

“You rarely cry, so don’t tell me it’s nothing. What’s wrong?”

She shook her head again. “Nothing.” It was an obvious lie.

Iris felt old feelings resurfacing. She knew she shouldn’t have sat down when he pleaded with her to listen to him. But Peter was the kind of man that wielded a person to yes — no matter what — which might’ve been why he was so successful in business.

This morning was no different. She was flustered and conflicted. She remembered how beautiful their marriage had been until the last few years, but on the other hand, she couldn’t erase what she’d seen — him and Sara living on Lazy Lane, expecting a baby.

“I love you, Pea,” she said. “I’ve always loved you. That may never change.”

“I love you, too,” he offered, though it sounded weak. His words gave her no comfort.

“No, you misunderstood me. I love you — always will — but I don’t like you. Not one iota, Pea. You asked me to throw away everything I’d worked for, everything I had in this world. You were the single most important thing in my life and you forced me to let you go because you thought you didn’t love me anymore? Now you’re saying you want me back?”

“I received some bad news and was trying to work some things out in my head.  But you kept pressuring me and I couldn’t handle it. That’s all.”

“What kind of news was so bad that my simple questions pushed you to the brink of divorce?” She suspected she already knew the answer —
Sara
. He’d probably learned that she was pregnant. The timing was just about right for that to have been what happened.

“Nothing to concern yourself with.”

Once again, frustration washed over her. She toyed with telling him she already knew about Sara and the pregnancy and the house on Lazy Lane.

“I invested in you. I worked two jobs to get you through grad school. You have an MBA because I supported you. You own a successful business because I sacrificed everything for you…”

Peter interrupted her. “Now hold on there, sweetheart. I did the hard work. I’m the one who went to school. I earned the degree. I secured the income that allowed you to leave the workforce. I found the investors and startup money for my business. I did the work. I turned a fledgling business into a multi-million dollar entity. You didn’t do anything. Nothing, except complain about what I hadn’t done for you. It got old, sweetheart.”

This irritated her even more. “See, that’s what I’m talking about — you don’t get it. You promised me a family, kids, that you’d support my career goals. You said once you finished school, then you’d support me. I believed you. I trusted you.”

He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “Here we go again. You’re like a looping reel. Look, I did what I said I would do, Iris. I provided for you. You lived in a mansion. You drove a luxury car. You had your hair and nails done every week. You shopped in the finest stores. You had the best of everything my money could buy.  Yet, you still complained that I hadn’t done enough.  Now look where you are. You have nothing.”

“Oh, I have something, Pea. I have my freedom. And that’s what
you
didn’t understand. It’s was not about
things
, Pea. It was always about us. What happened to us?”

“I just couldn’t seem to please you, Iris. No matter what I did. That’s what happened to us.”

Iris sighed.

“I don’t get it, Pea.  You threw away our entire marriage — all ten years of it, plus the three we spent dating.  I’d spent my entire adult life with you. Then, without explanation, you tell me goodbye? How am I supposed to trust you with my heart again?”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. But I hurt myself, too. My life has been empty without you. I can’t breathe without you.”

Her mind flashed back to him and Sara on the front porch of the house on Lazy Lane, to Sara driving the car he’d taken from her in the divorce, to Sara rubbing her pregnant belly — a pregnancy Iris wasn’t afforded, to Peter informing her that he’d drained the bank accounts and sold the house — leaving her homeless.  The heat from her resentment reddened her face. She trembled with fiery anger.

He went on, “Did you hear me, Iris? I can’t breathe without you.”

“Well, Pea… sweetheart… it looks like you’re going to suffocate then.” She stood. “I don’t trust you with my heart.” She looked at her watch and realized how long she’d left Preston waiting in the bedroom. “I just realized that I don’t need you anymore, Pea. From this moment forward, if there’s anything you need to say to me, have your attorney call mine. Oh, and by the way, I have a new attorney. Sara will no longer be representing my
interests
. You need to leave, Peter.  Don’t call me again. Don’t drop by again. Don’t even think about me. Erase me as if I never existed.”

“But, I…”

“You heard her,” the voice came from the kitchen entrance.

Peter stood. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m her man…”

Peter looked at Iris who stood, biting her thumbnail, eyes wide, watching the two of them.

“You don’t recognize me, Pea? You don’t recognize your own brother, Pea?”

“My brother? The only brother I have…” He paused and stepped closer, squinting then widening his eyes upon recognition. “Baby?”

Preston nodded.

“You’re not my brother,” Peter shouted, then looked at Iris. “How long has this been going on, Iris?”

“Still denying me, Peter? Denying that I’m your brother doesn’t change the fact that I am,” Preston said.

“What the hell are you doing here… with my wife?”

“Your wife?” Preston asked, more like a statement of incredulity as he looked at Iris who seemed bewildered.

Iris’ jaw had dropped open. She did a double-take and before she could say a word, Peter responded.

“Yeah, she’s my wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Iris corrected, looking at Preston apologetically.

“I thought you were gallivanting around Europe. When did you get here?”

“What do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“You never could distinguish a diamond from a cubic zirconia — throwing away priceless gems for the imitations.”

“What are you talking about, Baby?”

“I’m with Iris, now.”

“I wonder, Baby. Does she
really
know who you are…
Preston?”

“I know enough, Pea,” Iris said.

“That’s doubtful,” Peter said, sucking his teeth and shaking his head in disgust.  He put Idris’ duplicate keys on the counter and eyeballed Preston as he walked by.  “You’ll always have my leftovers, Baby… Preston… or whatever you’re calling yourself these days.”

“Pea, you’d better duck because I’m two seconds from throwing this mug of hot coffee at you.  Get out of my brother’s apartment.”

Peter seemed on the verge of saying more but he retreated, something he wasn’t accustomed to doing. He eyeballed Preston again as he walked by.

Preston’s nostrils flared, his chest rose and fell in rapid succession, and his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were nearly white.

Iris leaned against the table with her hand, bracing herself from the emotional exchange. She watched Peter storm out of the kitchen.

She heard the front door slam and rushed into the living room. Gone. Peter had left. Preston stood behind her fuming.

“Are you still in love with him?” Preston asked.

“You knew all this time that I was married to Peter?”

Preston shook his head. “No. But I overheard the conversation. Every single word — in particular, when you told Pea that you loved him and always would. But no, I had no idea you are my brother’s wife.”

“Ex-wife,” she reiterated.

“When we met, you said you had a man. Were you referring to Peter?”

She shook her head. “No. We’re divorced. We’ve been divorced for six months – seven months now. I told you that.”

“Yeah, but you failed to mention that your ex-husband was my brother.”

“How could I have possibly known he was your brother, Preston? How? You’ve been estranged from your family the entire time I’ve known Peter. You don’t have the same last name. Peter has never ever mentioned you. I mean, he talked about his sister, Amanda, incessantly.  But he never mentioned you.”

He sat down on the sofa. His eyes were saddened. “I changed my name and distanced myself from my family,” he muttered but she didn’t hear him clearly because she was asking him a question at the same time.

“Why, Preston? Why didn’t Peter ever mention you? Why was he denying you as his brother?”

“That’s something you’d have to ask him. I need to know where I stand with
you
, Iris,” he said sharply.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Where do I stand with you?”

“First of all, Preston, we’ve known each other less than two months. I don’t know where you stand. You haven’t had enough time to establish a standing with me. Secondly, you’re acting as if I invited Peter here. I didn’t.”

“I saw your eyes, Iris… the way you looked at him.”

She didn’t respond. She just stood there with her arms folded across her chest. Seething.

“I’ve made a fool of myself and I’ve certainly overstayed my welcome.  You told me you had a man, but I didn’t listen. I should have. I’ll get out of your way.”

“Wait, Preston.”

He kept walking until he opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” Preston said solemnly.

“But… Wait.”

He walked out and closed the door.