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“I wish you luck with that. It was ever so nice meeting you. Jason would agree, but I think he’s a little starstruck right now. He’s never this quiet.”
“I’m quiet because I can’t get a word in edgewise, woman,” her father grumbled, and Trystan chuckled. “Now if you’re done embarrassing our daughter, I have something to say to Mr. Abbott.”
“Of course,” Trystan nodded with a smile, which her father didn’t return.
“If you break my little girl’s heart, young man, I’ll break your legs. And don’t think I can’t, I know three different types of martial arts.”
“Dad…”
“Jason, what?—”
Trystan ignored the shocked exclamations from both women and nodded solemnly at the thin, balding fifty-something-year-old man glaring daggers at him through the screen.
“If she’d give me her heart, sir, it would be my greatest treasure and I would keep it safe for the rest of my life. But until the day she entrusts it to me, it’s not mine to break.”
Her father seemed satisfied with that answer, and once again Iris felt herself on the verge of tears at Trystan’s words.
Her parents rang off shortly after that. Her mother—who appeared deep in thought—said goodbye with an absent I love you.
After the called ended, Iris and Trystan sat side by side in silence. She fidgeted with his phone, turning it over and over again in her hands. She wasn’t sure what to say to him and, to his credit, he allowed her the space to process.
“I’ll leave you to speak to your friend in privacy,” he said after a long while and she nodded in gratitude, not sure she could go through the same thing with Evan.
Chapter Sixteen
“You’re where? With whom?”
“I can’t tell you where exactly, Ev, but my interview was supposed to be with Trystan Abbott.”
“Trystan Abbott? The Trystan Abbott? Seriously? Oh my God, you lucky bitch! I would give my eye teeth and my left tit to land a plum assignment like that. Tell me everything . . .Is he really that fucking hot in real life? Who are you selling the story to? I have first dibs, right? Jesus, my boss is going to wee herself with envy, and I’ll finally get the promotion I deserve. Maybe I’ll even get her job!”
“I’m not doing the story.” Iris was frowning. Evan’s instantly avaricious response bothered her.
“What? Why not?”
“He didn’t consent to the interview. His agent was mistaken.” She chose her words carefully, a little wary after the other woman’s initial giddy reaction. It had been all about Evan and how this interview would impact her career.
What the hell?
It reminded Iris of how her father had often used her achievements to prop himself up. In fact, Evan was more like Stanford Carter than Iris could ever be. She made no secret of the fact that she admired Iris’s father greatly. Evan had always spoken about how lucky Iris had been to have a mentor like Stanford Carter, and Iris had never corrected her, choosing to let the other woman believe that her father had cared enough to guide Iris in any way. When it couldn’t be further from the truth.
Now, when she thought back on her years of friendship with Evan, she comprehended how often the other woman had spoken of Stanford Carter, how she’d always asked questions about him, researched his career, and had even made a scrapbook of clippings of all his stories to share with Iris. Not give, merely share.
Now, Iris wondered if Evan had befriended her because of who Iris’s father had been. If the other woman had believed that it would help her get ahead somehow.
“But you’ve been there with him, alone, for two weeks… You have a story, Iris. Even without the interview.”
“No. I don’t. I refuse to write about him without his explicit consent.”
“Oh my God, you’re so soft. The fucking opportunity of a lifetime and you’re wasting it. You don’t deserve this chance; you don’t have a clue what to do with it. Do you want to be a journalist or not? Because let me tell you, this is getting fucking embarrassing. Your dad is probably rolling over in his grave right now at what a wimp his daughter is.”
Iris blinked at her friend’s face in horror—Evan’s expression had twisted in disgust and contempt and Iris barely recognized her.
“Uhm, Evan, I have to go. The connection is bad and?—”
“Wait, so you’re calling me from his number, right?” Iris’s stomach plummeted at the question. How could she have been so stupid? “If you won’t do the interview, do you think he’d mind if I WhatsApped him? Asked him a few questions? See if he’d be open to having a chat with me?
“Please don’t do that,” Iris whispered in horror.
