Page 34 of Iridescent
Her gaze drops, but when she looks up again, her eyes meet mine across the room. Warm brown eyes, bright with unshed tears.
Something about them pulls at me.
Guinevere cups her shoulder, her expression softening. “Well, don’t youworry about a thing tonight. I’m here for you,” she says. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. We’ve all been beside ourselves waiting to see you.”
My shoulders stiffen. I can’t remember the last time I heard Guinevere sound so sincere. So warm. Certainly never toward me.
In the years I’ve been her daughter-in-law, her kindness has been polite at best, frosty at worst.
Seeing her fawn over this woman with open arms and a glowing smile shouldn’t sting. I know it shouldn’t. She’s family, after all.
But it does. It finds a place in me I thought I’d long since hardened.
My formidable mother-in-law is capable of affection, just not for me.
I look away, suddenly sure I’m intruding on a private reunion. Self-consciousness prickles along my spine. I’ve spent all night wallowing in my own problems, and here’s someone in real mourning. Someone who actually needs this family’s comfort.
And I’m jealous. Of her.
Shame scorches my face. I ease a step back, ready to slip away and find Xavier, needing something solid to anchor me.
Before I can move, I catch sight of my husband. He’s no longer beside his uncle. He stands a few paces from the bar, unnaturally still, like he drifted there without meaning to. The tumbler in his hand hangs suspended midair, forgotten.
And his eyes—
I know every nuance of my husband’s expressions. But whatever is on his face now, I’ve never seen it before.
Not once.
Xavier is staring at the woman in red like he’s seen a ghost.
Everything around me turns strangely unreal, the sounds of the party dissolving beneath the heavy thud of my heartbeat. I move toward him without thinking, slipping through a gap in the crowd until I’m at his side.
“Xavier?” I murmur.
He doesn’t react. His gaze stays fixed on the doorway. On her.
There’s shock in his eyes. But beneath it, a haunted look that makes my stomach drop.
She’s his cousin.
So why does it feel like I’m watching something I shouldn’t be seeing?
Guinevere's voice carries through the hall as she turns to the rest of the room.
“Everyone, you remember Isabel, of course,” she says brightly. “She’s just flown in from Madrid. It’s been such a terrible tragedy, losing her father. Please, give her your warmest welcome home.”
My eyes flick back to my husband. Xavier hasn’t moved. In the golden light of the chandeliers, the color has drained from his face, leaving him pale and shaken.
I reach out, my fingers unsteady as they touch his arm.
He flinches. Blinks. Then finally looks at me, like he’d forgotten I was here.
“Xavier,” I whisper, searching his face. “Who is…?”
The question dies on my tongue.
Who is she to you?
