4. Iris

4

IRIS

Rose leans over the mixing bowl of sugar cookie dough and sticks her hand straight inside.

I laugh. “Girl, what are you doing?”

My goddaughter looks up at me with an open-mouthed smile, proud of herself. She pulls her hand out of the bowl, dough squashing through her fingers.

I grimace.

I love her, but even I don’t want her germs in my cookies. Not to mention risk of salmonella with the eggs. “Okay, decontamination process begins.”

Thankfully, I’ll be able to distract her enough that the decontamination process seems like a fun game to her. I swipe her off the counter and swing her around in circles on the way to the sink, making a blast off noise as we go.

Her laughter fills the room as I swish her over to the sink. “Beep, beginning sanitation process,” I say in a robotic voice, placing her little hand under the soap dispenser.

“Hand in the dough again?” Red says as she enters the room.

I scrub Rose’s hand under the water, getting the oil off her hands and dough out from between her fingers. “She’s not a great assistant, but she is awfully cute.”

I give Rose a kiss on the nose.

Red sighs moving over to the bowl of dough. “Oh well, we’ll just make this batch for me and Oliver, I guess.”

The second batch just for them.

“Haven’t you considered just ordering cookies from Dara for the office?”

“She’s already doing baked goods for the Christmas party, which by the way, you’re coming to.”

“You’re daaaaaa rn right.” I catch myself before saying “damn.” The not swearing thing is tricky around the kids.

Red chuckles and grabs the dough, putting it onto the counter and grabbing a rolling pin. “Besides, I missed the order window.”

I snicker. “At least you’re honest.”

She glares at me playfully. “There’s a lot to balance when you have a rugrat and a full-time job.”

“Trust me, I’m not arguing with you on that one.” I bring Rose back over to the counter, keeping her captive on my hip. “So, are there any cute guys on your team?”

Rowan starts working the dough under the rolling pin viciously, forearm muscles bulging. “You really want to find a new guy at the Christmas party?”

“Not a forever guy, just a for-now guy.” I shrug. “Besides, I haven’t been with anyone since Trevor. I think it’s time I just get it over with, you know?”

Rowan glances at me for a moment. “You think you’re ready for that?”

“Of course, I am! It’s been half a year.”

“Yeah, but you were engaged.”

“And?”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Old Violet is back in business, huh?”

I swallow.

I did use to be a bit of a flirt. I’d jump from guy to guy, not getting too serious with anyone. It was fun. And in a weird way it was safe.

That was, until I met Trevor, and I realized he was my person. Emphasis on was .

I didn’t think I’d want to be with another guy ever again, but now I think I’m ready to leave Trevor in the dust once and for all. “I just want to have a little fun. That’s all.”

Rowan lets out an effortful huff, trying to work the non-pliable dough. “You can’t wait until you get back to Seattle?”

“Why are you trying to cockblock me?” My eyes shoot to rose. “I mean…rooster block me? What does a rooster say, Rose?”

Rose throws her head back. “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

“Huh. Maybe I could have stuck with ‘cock’.”

Red stops rolling out the dough, wiping off her brow with the back of her hand. “You’re such a bad influence.”

I laugh. “You want me to take a turn.”

“Please, my forearms are burning.”

Red and I change places at the kitchen island.

I trade the baby for a rolling pin, smacking the pin into my hand. “Let’s whip this dough into shape, huh?”

I start rolling out the dough, watching it thin more and more. It’s a workout, but it’s a good way to keep my mind occupied.

“Trevor will be at the office party too,” Red says. “So…I just want you to be aware.”

“You want me to be worried about hurting his feelings?”

“Kind of.”

I stop rolling for a second. “Whose side are you on?”

Red sputters for a moment. “Yours, of course.” Then, she backtracks. “His too, though.”

I shake my head.

This is the problem with sharing friends, not to mention a godchild, with an ex. “Don’t tell me he hasn’t been hopping from girl to girl.”

“If he has, he hasn’t told me.”

“Well, why would he tell you? I mean, you two dated a long time ago, that would be weird.”

Rowan lifts her chin with a triumph. “But he hasn’t told Oliver either, and Oliver tells me everything.”

“Well, maybe he’s not telling either of you because he knows you two have loose lips,” I mutter, getting back to work on the dough.

Rowan sighs. “Look, Christmas is a time of goodwill, right? Maybe you and Trevor can extend some…goodwill to each other.”

I stop again. “Is goodwill a euphemism for something?”

“If you want it to be.”

I stop rolling again. “Is this whole thing a set up?”

Red’s eyes widen. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“That you lure me out here to Chicago to spend time with my goddaughter, begging me to come for Christmas, and the whole time you were actually trying to trap me into getting back together with Trevor?”

“You two are far too stubborn to be trapped into getting back together,” Rowan murmurs.

“Oh my god! This is a set up!”

“ Violet .”

“It is! You’re not denying it!” I grab my rolling pin and point it at Red.

Rose thinks I’m playing a game, and she swipes her hand toward the pin, but I jerk it out of her hand, causing her face to screw up into near tears. “Oh, I’m sorry, Rosie, I’m–”

Rose bursts into tears, a shrill cry tearing from her lips.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, it’s okay!” I say, desperately trying to recover the peace.

“Put the rolling pin down, Violet!”

I realize I still have the wooden pin in my hand, using it to gesticulate. So, I drop it, like an idiot. It makes a cracking sound on the counter.

The loud noise makes Rose scream and cry even harder.

Red tucks Rose’s head into the crook of her neck, shushing and bouncing her. “It’s okay! It was scary, but you’re okay.”

I stare helplessly, feeling like an asshole for making Rose cry.

And of course, that’s when Oliver walks in. With Trevor. He’s got a bottle of what looks to be fancy eggnog in one hand and a bountiful poinsettia in the other.

What the fuck?

Oliver scans the scene. “Everything okay?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

I glare at Oliver. “Not you. Him .”

“I was invited. What are you doing here?”

“I was invited first.” I don’t know that for a fact, but I have to assert my dominance.

Trevor lets out an annoyed breath and looks to Oliver for clarification. I do the same with Red.

However, our friends are busy calming down their baby. Oliver’s appearance has distracted Rose just enough to get her crying to lessen.

“See, nothing bad can happen when Daddy’s around.” Red passes Rose to Oliver.

Despite my annoyance at Trevor’s appearance, it’s hard not to soften at the image of hulking Oliver Hawthorn comforting his baby girl. His big hands wipe away her tears, and he peppers kisses to her cheeks, letting her grab his shirt and press her face into his chest.

There’s a pull of disappointment inside me.

Trevor and I were going to have that together. One day. Maybe not as soon as Trevor liked, but of course, I wanted to make him a father. I loved him more than I ever loved anybody.

And I know Trevor would have made a good dad. That’s one of the many things I mourn about our relationship.

Of course, he’ll get that someday with someone. Just not me.

I swallow down the pain.

Oliver shakes his head. “Were you threatening my daughter with a rolling pin, Iris?”

Little Rose is now sucking on her thumb, her eyes glazed over from her little tantrum.

“It was an accident,” I grumble, leering at Red.

She won’t meet my eyes. If she thinks we’re done having this conversation, she has another thing coming.

Trevor clears his throat. “I can go.”

“No, you just got here!” Red exclaims, going over to him. “Is this for me?”

Trevor nods, handing her the poinsettia. “And I brought the eggnog as promised.”

I frown. “As promised?”

Trevor’s eyes meet mine. “Yes, this has been on my calendar for weeks. Eggnog, carols…cookies.”

Red smashes her hand to her forehead. “I totally forgot. Ha! Silly me, now that Iris is in town–”

I narrow my eyes at her.

She’s not doing herself any favors when it comes to the allegations of trying to get Trevor and me in the same room again.

“I’ll go. Then you all can have your night as planned.”

“No!” Oliver cries out. “No, come on, can’t we…”

He cradles Rose to his chest. “Can’t we all have a nice night for Rosie?”

“I accidentally threatened Rose with a rolling pin, I think she’ll be fine if I–”

Trevor shrugs. “I’m fine with it as long as Iris is.”

I stare at him, watch him shuck off his long, wool coat. “You are?”

Damn that coat. It’s so sexy and sensible. The sun to my moody and messy moon. It made sense from the beginning. Until it didn’t.

Trevor goes to one of the cabinets and pulls down four glasses. “At least a glass of eggnog, hm? See how we feel after that.”

Red nods. “That’s a great idea, Trev. One glass of eggnog and if you still can’t stand to be in the same room as him–”

“Or vice versa,” I say, not drawing my eyes away from Trevor as he pours the eggnog.

Red comes up to me, giving me an overly toothy smile.

Go along with it , she begs in silence.

And fine. I’m only in Chicago for a week and regardless of the reason they actually got me here, I am here to give my goddaughter a good Christmas. That’s all.

Their plans don’t have to affect me, other than being in the same room as Trevor.

“Okay. One eggnog and then we’ll see.”

Red gives me a grateful smile just as Trevor swoops in with my glass of eggnog.

I take it from him. “Thank you.”

He nods, curls jiggling out of place. “No problem.”

Fuck, he’s so close I can smell him. And he always smelled nice after a day of work. His cologne mixed with the natural set of a worn day. Ink, paper, coffee.

There were nights he’d come home, and I’d climb him like a tree, trying to pick up as much of his scent as I could.

I drink half my eggnog in one go. Need to work out my nerves with some brandy.

Red nods to the rolling pin. “We were just rolling out some dough for the sugar cookies. Maybe you boys can take a turn and let us rest our arms?”

Trevor starts to unbutton the cuffs of his button down and work them up to his elbows. “Mm, yes, we don’t want Iris to give Rose another jump scare, huh?”

There’s a tiny smirk on his face as he grabs the rolling pin and starts to go to town on the dough.

Was that– is that supposed to be a joke? No, not a joke. A flirtation?

More nog. Stat.

After the initial shock of Trevor’s arrival, things settle.

Red cranks the Christmas tunes and pulls the tray of cookies in the oven out to cool. Oliver and Trevor take turns thinning out the dough until it’s the perfect size. Trevor helps Rose use cookie cutters to make snowflakes and stars. I try not to get distracted as I help Red whip up some frosting.

Except, it’s hard when he’s so good with her.

I loved him before Rose was born, but after Rose was born, I lost my mind.

Watching him with our goddaughter doesn’t erase the pain of the past six months, but it sure does pull me back in time.

Whether it’s the déjà vu or the eggnog or a combination of both, I find myself watching Trevor from time to time the way I used to.

I loved everything about him. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he looked at the world. At me.

I keep looking, hoping he’ll look at me. Realize what he missed out on. Except, maybe I’m nothing much if I can’t offer him exactly what he wants.

“Okay, Rosie, what color do you want to make the snowflakes?” I gesture to all the bowls of colored icing Red and I whipped up.

My goddaughter trusts me again, thank god, and is currently standing on the counter in front of me, back pressed up against my chest.

“Pink!” she points to the bowl of pink.

“Pink snowflakes…I like that,” Trevor says from across the island.

I giggle. “Pink snowflakes for a pink–” I stop short, taking a whiff of the air. The sweet smells have been permeated by the stench of… “Rosie, did you–”

“Oh, that’s a bad one,” Oliver says from across the room, putting his hand over his nose.

I swipe Rosie off the counter, holding her under her arms.

She bursts into a fit of giggles when she realizes how she’s all but cleared out the room by filling her diaper.

“I don’t do diapers!” I cry out.

It’s mostly a joke, but if I can get away with not changing her diaper, I will.

Oliver comes over, tucking his nose into his shoulder and holding his breath. “Got her.”

Rose giggles as Oliver rushes out of the room with her at arm’s length.

“I should go help him, he gets queasy when he’s been drinking,” Red says and before I can protest, she leaves Trevor and me alone with all the cookies, the carols, and other crap. Not literal crap. Shared history crap.

“Pink snowflakes…” I busy myself spooning some icing onto a cookie.

Trevor picks up the bottle. “More eggnog?”

I glance at my empty cup. “Sure. Why not?”

“There she is.” He chuckles.

That’s my girl .

That’s what he’d usually say. But I’m not his girl, and he can’t claim to know me that way anymore.

Trevor sidles up to me and pours the last bits of eggnog into my glass.

“Thank you.” I spread the icing over the cookie.

“Can I help or…”

“Sure, we can see who makes the better-looking snowflake.”

“Ah, well, I’m going for blue, then.” Trevor reaches for the bowl.

We focus on the cookies, music pouring out from the speaker. An old classic carol, slow and waltz-like. Romantic.

Why do Christmas songs have to be romantic ?

Trevor starts humming along.

“You’re humming.”

“Oh, sorry.”

I chuckle.

He never realizes he’s doing it, so when I point it out he gets embarrassed. “It’s fine, you can keep humming.”

I’ve missed it .

Trevor starts to hum along again.

I scoop up some dripping icing from the side of my snowflake with my thumb and lick it off. “Yeah, this is looking perf–”

Right as I’m about to compliment my own work, Trevor globs some blue icing onto the middle of my snowflake.

I gape at him. “Did you just–”

“No,” he says with an innocent twirl of his eyes before focusing back on his cookie.

I try to tamp down my smile.

There’s an ease between us. A playfulness. Feels like a memory.

I scoop up some pink icing to fling it over toward his cookie. But Trevor catches my wrist.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Fair is fair!”

We play tug of war, laughing as I try and attack his cookie with the pink icing, and he defends his territory.

“There’s nothing fair in cookie decorating!” Trevor grunts.

I manage to swipe my spoon through the air, icing spraying across the counter, flying up in the air, and right into Trevor’s face.

“Oops!”

Trevor winces, his eyes shut tight, pink icing dripping down his nose.

At first, I think he might actually be pissed off, but then he smiles. “Okay, now it’s on.”

I dart away as he reaches for his spoon of blue icing, ducking down when he tries to catch me with the projectile of icing. “You’re making a mess!”

“You started it!”

I can’t stop laughing. “That’s a lie, and you know it!”

Trevor scrambles around the island toward me, and I run the opposite direction.

It’s cat and mouse, around and around the island.

I need more ammo, which means I’ll need to take a risk. I fake him out by starting one way and going the other.

But Trevor’s bigger than me. Longer legs, arms, all that. And tough I manage to get another spoonful of icing, he grabs me up a moment later.

I scream out, the spoon flying out of my hand.

Trevor grins. “Got you”

I try to catch my breath and realize I can’t. I’m held tight in his arms, up against his chest, close like we used to be. Close like we belong to one another.

I rest my head against him and glance up into his face.

Our eyes meet. Where I expect to see disdain, I see a solemn smile and sad eyes.

We both remember.

And with the realization that what we are feeling is not the present, but the past, we disentangle.

“Sorry about your cookie, I–” He pushes curls from his forehead.

“Oh, it’s fine. It was funny, it was…” I try to laugh it off, but I’m all turned around, topsy turvy.

“We should clean up.” I grab a rag hanging over the faucet. When I turn, Red is standing in the hall, just outside the light.

She was watching us. I pretend like I don’t notice her.

However, it’s clear whether she admits it or not what she and Oliver are trying to accomplish by me being here.

She’s going to learn the hard way that Trevor McCoy and I are nothing but a memory. For all of us.