Page 64 of Iridescent
Another life.
I shove the memory down and move to the passenger side. The smell ofmy wife’s perfume hits me the moment I open the door, tangled with the lingering scent of us from earlier. It nearly chokes me. My throat closes.
I can’t do this.
I need to see Yara. Now.
We drive in silence. I lean my head back against the seat and shut my eyes, willing the nausea and rage inside me to settle. The vents hum, blowing cool air, but I am still overheated, suffocating in my own skin.
The window is cracked. Sea air drifts in. It does nothing to soothe me.
“Xavi,” Isabel says after a while. “I’m… I’m so sorry. For all of it.”
I open my eyes and turn toward her. Her hands are steady on the wheel, but her face is taut with worry. “You have nothing to apologize for. This was between me and them.”
She bites her lip. “Still. I feel responsible. If I hadn’t shown up tonight—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt. “It’s not your fault my mother is a nightmare.” A bitter smile twists at my mouth. “She would have found another way to hurt Yara. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for being used as a pawn in her game.”
“I just wish I could have stopped her. The things she said… about Yara…” She shakes her head, disgust sharpening her voice. “Unforgivable.”
It is. And I stood there and let it go on too long.
“Yara didn’t deserve any of that.”
“No. She didn’t.” Isabel glances at me, her expression softening. “Neither did you.”
I let out a humorless snort. “I’m not worried about me.”
She looks over again, her gaze settling on my wedding ring. “Maybe you should be.” There is an edge to her voice now. “Xavier… the way they treat you, it isn’t right. It never was. I thought after all these years your parents might have learned to appreciate you. Clearly, I was wrong.”
I say nothing. I do not have the energy to pick apart a lifetime of damage with Isabel in the driver’s seat and Yara waiting somewhere without me.
I close my eyes and, for one stupid second, wish time could reverse—that when I open them again, none of this will have happened.
I do not know how long I am out.
When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is a pair of brown eyes I know too well.
Isabel.
She is leaning across the console, her fingers at my tie.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I jerk back so hard my shoulder hits the door.
She startles and scrambles into her own seat, wiping her palms against her dress. “I just—I wanted you to rest a little before facing everything.” The words tumble out of her. “And your tie looked uncomfortable. I was only trying to loosen it.”
I look around and realize the car is no longer moving. We are parked at the side of the road.
“How long was I out?”
She hesitates.
“How long, Isabel?”
“A little over four hours.”
“Mierda.” The word comes out raw. Midnight has to be close. Yara.
