Chapter 54

Iris

I step into the living room as Arthur moves to the home bar to pour me a drink. “What’s your drink of choice?” he calls from the dining room, which is adjacent to where I’m standing. “Still red wine?”

“Yeah,” I reply, glancing around before I tentatively take a seat in one of the soft armchairs by the fireplace. There’s no fire flickering now, the room instead lit by a couple of small lamps and the city lights outside.

I hear Arthur banging around for a moment, his movements clumsy and slow. A few moments later, he returns with my wine and his glass refilled with whiskey.

“For the lady,” he says, handing me my glass.

I take it, sipping slowly as I watch him flop into the chair across from me. He looks messier than usual, his typical polished appearance replaced by something foreign. But even then, he doesn’t look relaxed like he once did five years ago. And that damn curl is still nowhere to be found.

After a few moments of silence, he looks up at me. “Are you okay?” he asks. “You’re staring.”

My cheeks warm, and I look away, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”

“How was your day at the gallery?”

I take a deep breath, considering how much to tell him, but finally decide to tell him everything—excluding the residency, only because I still don’t know much about it. Arthur sips his whiskey as he listens, and when I’m finished, he nods and leans back in his chair.

“That all sounds promising,” he says, his words ever so slightly slurred. “I’d like to attend your lecture.”

“It’s open to the public,” I reply simply.

Arthur nods, and we fall into another silence. I watch as he polishes off his whiskey, then reaches for the nearby bottle, which he brought with him when he poured my wine. My brow furrows as he refills his glass.

“How much have you had tonight?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Three glasses? Four? Not sure. Why?”

“It’s not like you to drink this much,” I reply. “Especially not alone. You always said that a man shouldn’t drink without company.”

“Well, up until this moment, I didn’t have company to drink with for the past five years,” he says, glancing at me. “Believe it or not, but I did miss our nightcaps and dancing.”

Despite myself, my heart warms slightly at the memory of our old routine. We used to share a drink a few nights out of the week, and dance to music on the record player. I recall Augustine mentioning how much she misses the sound of our music and laughter, and it makes me soften even more.

“There’s no music playing,” I point out.

“I can fix that.”

To my surprise, Arthur gets up from his chair, striding over to the old record player in the corner. He picks out a record and places it on the platter, then gently lowers the needle.

And the moment I hear the soft strains, I feel as if I’ve been launched into the past.

…

Years ago…

The rain pattered against the windows, turning the parking lot outside into a kaleidoscope of reds and blues reflecting from the neon lights. The mint green booths were empty, the jukebox in the corner playing an old love song that I hated. And yet for some reason, I kept whistling along to it anyway as I wiped down the counter.

My shift was still a few hours from being over even though it was nearly midnight, and it was dragging on. In this rain, hardly anyone aside from a few truckers had come in all night. If it were up to me, I would have closed the diner already, but my boss insisted on keeping it open 24/7.

Just as I was about to sneak into the pantry to read a book until my shift was up, the door opened.

“Welcome,” I said without looking up, pulling my notepad out of my apron pocket. “Can I get you started with anything?”

“Coffee,” a gruff voice said. “Cream, no sugar.”

I looked up to see an Alpha sidling up to the counter, shrugging off a rain-soaked trench coat. I grit my teeth, choosing not to point out the trail of water he left from the door to the stool. Alphas rarely cared if I had to clean up after them, especially since I was just a human diner waitress.

I poured his coffee, glancing at him as he took his seat. He was tall and broad across the shoulders, with a shock of black hair and a single stray curl that was plastered across his forehead from the rain. With the stubble dotting his square jaw, he looked handsome in the most typical Alpha sort of way.

But it was his green eyes, piercing as they looked up at me, that caught my attention.

He froze when he looked at me, and I swore his eyes glowed for a moment—like glowing lichen hidden in a dark cave, or the bioluminescent ocean at night.

In that moment, I felt a sudden and profound connection to him. I couldn’t explain it, not at the time, but I knew that we were meant to meet.

And somehow, the song playing on the jukebox didn’t sound so bad anymore.

“Arthur,” he said, extending his hand.

I glanced down. “Your hand is wet.”

He cleared his throat, cheeks reddening ever so slightly as he wiped his hand on a napkin. “Sorry.” He extended it again, and when I shook it, his large hand almost engulfed mine.

I swallowed. “What would you like?”

“Your name,” he replied.

“I mean—oh,” I said, suddenly feeling sheepish for the first time since starting this job. “Iris.”

After that, he ordered a burger and fries, and neither of us stopped chatting the entire time. Nearly two hours passed before he finally paid his bill, and I was reluctant to let him go.

As a human, I didn’t have the same innate ability to recognize my mate without being marked first, but I knew there was a connection there. Even if he wasn’t my mate, I knew that he could sense a connection, too, which was why I was surprised that he left without taking my information.

I felt a pang of disappointment as I watched him leave, wondering if he didn’t want me because I wasn’t a werewolf, and he’d just spent two hours flirting with me because he was bored or lonely.

But then I glanced over and saw he’d left his keys on the counter. Grinning, I grabbed them and ran after him, not caring that my uniform got soaked as I burst outside.

“Your keys!” I called, holding them up.

He turned, his hair already soaked by the rain again. I ran over to him and placed them in his outstretched palm, and he gripped my wrist, refusing to let me go.

“You should have given me your number along with them,” he said, smirking.

“Since when do Alphas play coy?” I teased.

He simply shrugged, still smirking as I pulled my notepad out and wrote my name and number on a piece of paper that was already soaked by the time I shoved it in his hand.

Then, with a wink, he climbed into his car and pulled away.

…

The memory makes a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Even now, I can still picture that rainy parking lot, those neon lights, the dark hair plastered to his forehead.

I used to hate this song, but now… Now, it’s my favorite. Even after everything.

Arthur was so carefree back then. So was I, I suppose. I wonder if that’s why he drinks; to feel that same easygoing feeling, the sort of feeling that an Alpha President isn’t allowed to have.

Suddenly, I’m pulled out of my daydream by the sound of Arthur’s voice. I blink, looking up to see him standing in front of me with his hand extended.