together and their arms over each other. They hadn’t shared a bed since they were too big to share a crib, and they hadn’t shared a room since they were four. It warmed Iris’s heart to see them still so close. She supposed that was the way with twins.
She and Rose weren’t all that close. Most people thought they were, because they’d spent so much time together, and for a long while they hadn’t had any friend but each other—but that had been more about survival than real affinity. They’d never been enemies, like she knew was the case with some siblings, but they didn’t share many interests. Their personalities had become a lot different, too, as they’d grown.
And then there was the divorce. That had always been a fence between them, especially when it had become clear that Iris wasn’t on board the Daddy-blame train with Rose and their mom.
At that point, their mom had begun to favor Rose pretty clearly. At least that was the way Iris saw it. Rose always argued that Iris was just too sensitive and that their mom didn’t have favorites.
But she also argued that their dad favored Iris. Actually, Rose argued that their dad favored Daisy most of all. Many times, she’d sniffed that she couldn’t compete with a ghost.
Iris had never been able to understand why Rose believed that competition with their dead sister was even a thing.
So no, Iris and Rose, though they’d been thrust together by circumstance and by accident of birth, were not particularly close.
While Nolan settled Caroline in her sleeping bag, Iris went back to the kitchen to try to get on top of the disaster all their fun had left behind. She didn’t want Shannon to come home in the morning, probably hung over, and find such a cataclysmic mess. So she pulled out the box of trash bags and started there.
Nolan came in a few minutes later and pulled another bag off the roll. Together, not saying much, they worked steadily until the kitchen was clean. The rest of the house could wait until Camp New Year was officially over.
Iris closed the dishwasher and turned it on. Before she moved, she sensed Nolan step up right behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body.
At her ear, he said, “This is the best New Year’s I’ve ever had—and that’s saying something. I’ve had one or two great ones.”
“Yeah, me too. It was fun. I love those kids.”
“You’re great with them.”
The breath of every word he spoke tickled her ear and made her insides clench. She turned around and looked up at him. “So are you.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, one without sound or breath or heartbeat. Iris knew he was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes, and what she saw was more than intent. It seemed like need.
She wanted him to kiss her, but when he finally bent toward her, she put her hand on his chest and held him at bay. He frowned, and she asked, “Do you know why you want to?”
That had been what she’d told him—that the next time he kissed her, he had to know why he was doing it. She needed to draw that line. It was one thing to like a guy who didn’t like her the same way. Iris didn’t get wound around that axle. There were other guys in the world, and she didn’t believe there was such as a thing as a One and Only True Love.
But she didn’t get close with guys who didn’t like her the same way. She wasn’t a sex doll. She wanted love, too, and she had never perfected the ‘sex is just sex’ mindset. In her mind, sex was love—or, at least, it was on the road to love. For her, it had to be more than the physical act. So she only got physical with guys who liked her the way she liked them.
Even for Nolan, even wanting to save him, she wouldn’t break that rule.
“Do you, Nolan?”
His frown had gotten so deep his face had become distorted. “I feel good when I’m with you,” he answered at last.
She and Rose weren’t all that close. Most people thought they were, because they’d spent so much time together, and for a long while they hadn’t had any friend but each other—but that had been more about survival than real affinity. They’d never been enemies, like she knew was the case with some siblings, but they didn’t share many interests. Their personalities had become a lot different, too, as they’d grown.
And then there was the divorce. That had always been a fence between them, especially when it had become clear that Iris wasn’t on board the Daddy-blame train with Rose and their mom.
At that point, their mom had begun to favor Rose pretty clearly. At least that was the way Iris saw it. Rose always argued that Iris was just too sensitive and that their mom didn’t have favorites.
But she also argued that their dad favored Iris. Actually, Rose argued that their dad favored Daisy most of all. Many times, she’d sniffed that she couldn’t compete with a ghost.
Iris had never been able to understand why Rose believed that competition with their dead sister was even a thing.
So no, Iris and Rose, though they’d been thrust together by circumstance and by accident of birth, were not particularly close.
While Nolan settled Caroline in her sleeping bag, Iris went back to the kitchen to try to get on top of the disaster all their fun had left behind. She didn’t want Shannon to come home in the morning, probably hung over, and find such a cataclysmic mess. So she pulled out the box of trash bags and started there.
Nolan came in a few minutes later and pulled another bag off the roll. Together, not saying much, they worked steadily until the kitchen was clean. The rest of the house could wait until Camp New Year was officially over.
Iris closed the dishwasher and turned it on. Before she moved, she sensed Nolan step up right behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body.
At her ear, he said, “This is the best New Year’s I’ve ever had—and that’s saying something. I’ve had one or two great ones.”
“Yeah, me too. It was fun. I love those kids.”
“You’re great with them.”
The breath of every word he spoke tickled her ear and made her insides clench. She turned around and looked up at him. “So are you.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, one without sound or breath or heartbeat. Iris knew he was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes, and what she saw was more than intent. It seemed like need.
She wanted him to kiss her, but when he finally bent toward her, she put her hand on his chest and held him at bay. He frowned, and she asked, “Do you know why you want to?”
That had been what she’d told him—that the next time he kissed her, he had to know why he was doing it. She needed to draw that line. It was one thing to like a guy who didn’t like her the same way. Iris didn’t get wound around that axle. There were other guys in the world, and she didn’t believe there was such as a thing as a One and Only True Love.
But she didn’t get close with guys who didn’t like her the same way. She wasn’t a sex doll. She wanted love, too, and she had never perfected the ‘sex is just sex’ mindset. In her mind, sex was love—or, at least, it was on the road to love. For her, it had to be more than the physical act. So she only got physical with guys who liked her the way she liked them.
Even for Nolan, even wanting to save him, she wouldn’t break that rule.
“Do you, Nolan?”
His frown had gotten so deep his face had become distorted. “I feel good when I’m with you,” he answered at last.
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