Iris
Arthur looks like he’s about to explode in the subtlest way possible. You would think that after five years apart I wouldn’t be able to see his telltale signs of frustration, but I can still locate the infinitesimal twitch of his jaw like I can locate the freckle on the back of my left hand.
“You left without a word,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “aborted my child, and had kids with him? They look the same age as our kid would be! How soon did you—”
“Enough,” I say, holding up my hand to stop him. I don’t want Emily and Evan to hear him speak like that. Surprisingly, he goes quiet, probably because he doesn’t want to make a scene in front of children either.
But truthfully, Arthur has no f*****g idea about what happened over the past five years. These aren’t m
