Iris & Arthur


    Iris


    My emotions are at war this morning. Every time I think about Arthur ending his contract with Selina, my heart does a little flip. But then I remember the hesitation on his face when I asked about being his public wife, and that same heart crashes back down into my stomach.


    It seems I''m still not good enough to be seen with him in public. Still just the human hidden away.


    I need a distraction, so I pull out myptop and polish my presentation, which I''ll be presentingter today.


    But as I work on my slideshow, I can''t help but recall Hunter''s offer fromst night. I''ve been mulling it over all night, and after everything that''s happened... Maybe I shouldn''t be so unwilling to take a little help.


    His number is already in my phone-I added him to my contacts as I left the partyst night-so I send him a quick text:


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    "Hunter, this is Flora, from the eventst night. How are you?"


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    To my surprise, he responds almost immediately: "Flora! It''s so good to hear from you. I''m doing well. I take it you considered my offer?"


    My heart pounds. I bite my lip, reconsidering briefly, but then decide to just go for


    it. "Yes, actually. My presentation is this afternoon. Any chance you could put in a good word for me?"


    "Of course. I''ll make sure they know how talented you are. And I''ll be attending your presentation."


    Relief floods through me.


    Later, I decide not to leave Miles at home-especially now that we have no nanny- so I take him to my presentation with me. With my Flora disguise and him wearing a hat and some silly sses he picked out, we''re unrecognizable.


    Abbott Gallery is already bustling when we arrive. The residency is prestigious, and there are at least twenty other artists vying for just one spot. I recognize a few faces, including...


    Be.


    She notices me as soon as I walk in, her gaze immediately dropping to Miles.


    "Is this the daycare center now? I wasn''t aware children were wee."


    I tighten my grip on Miles'' hand, biting back a retort. This isn''t the time or ce to get into it with her.


    "Actually, they''re with me."


    The voice makes both Be and me turn. Hunter is standing by the door,


    impably dressed in a charcoal suit that makes his eyes stand out like blue


    mes. Be''s mouth snaps shut, and I feel a rush of gratitude toward Hunter. He winks at Miles, who beams up at him.


    "Hey there," Hunter says, crouching down to the boy''s level. "I''m Hunter, your mom''s friend. What''s your name?"


    Miles shyly looks up at me, but quietly says, "Miles."


    "That''s a wonderful name. Did youe today to support your mom during her presentation?" Miles nods hesitantly, and Hunter adds with a smile, "I''m sure she''s going to do ten times better now that you''re here."


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    The way he speaks to Miles makes something warm unfurl in my chest. It''s how Arthur speaks to him, and it''s rare to see that kind of genuine interaction from others, especially strangers.


    "The presentations will begin in five minutes," a staff member suddenly announces. "The first artist to present will be Flora. Please approach the podium.”


    Nodding, I crouch to Miles'' level and pinch his cheek. “You can''te up with me, little wolf," I say gently. Remember what we talked about? If you sit nice and quiet, we can get ice cream afterwards."


    Miles nods, then nces up at Hunter. "Can I sit with you, Mr. Hunter?" Miles asks, surprising me. He''s usually so shy around new people.


    "I''d be honored," he tells Miles.


    As they settle into seats at the back of the presentation room, I make my way to the front, setting up myptop. My heart pounds in my chest at the size of the audience, but after a few deep breaths and a thumbs-up from Miles and Hunter, I feel a lot better.


    When my presentation begins, I''m surprised by how steady my voice is. I talk about my background, my


    influences, my artistic philosophy. I exin the pieces I''ve chosen to highlight, discussing my use of color and form and the emotions I aim to evoke.


    Throughout it all, I can see Miles in the back, sitting attentively beside Hunter, who asionally leans down to whisper something to him that makes him smile. The sight gives me strength.


    Be''s turnes after mine, and it bes immediately apparent that she hasn''t prepared a formal presentation at all. She stands at the front of the room with a practiced smile,unching into a speech about her family''s long history of supporting the arts and how she feels it''s ''simply time'' for her to receive recognition for her contributions.


    "I believe my reputation speaks for itself," she concludes, gesturing vaguely toward her portfolio without even opening it.


    One of themittee members clears his throat. "Be, we requested a formal presentation of your work and artistic vision. Do you have that prepared?" Be''s smile falters. "I wasn''t aware that was a requirement."


    "It was outlined clearly in the application materials," anothermittee member says. “I''m afraid without a formal presentation, we can''t properly evaluate your candidacy."


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