The billionaire's sweet editor
Chapter 50: Iris: Something stronger than drugs

Chapter 50: Iris: Something stronger than drugs

I CAN’T believe Mary called their parents. She’s grinning from ear to ear, proudly clutching each of her parent’s hands whilst standing between them like a fucking toddler.

To think she was pulling both mine and Jeralds ears a while ago. She has such diva speed.

"Iris, darling. Come here pookie," Mrs. Adams wriggles her hand out of Mary’s grasp, opening her arms wide for me to fit into and pouting.

Giving Jerald one last glance and thoroughly wiping my eyes, I lazily walk to her before throwing myself onto her. "I missed you so much."

"Me too," I reply, the warmth emanating from her filling my bitter heart. My grandparents, Nicole Adams and her husband, Fredrick are the next best people who have helped in filling the space my parents left vacant when I was a kid. If it wasn’t for them being white, I’m pretty sure people would’ve thought they were my biological parents with the way they treated me.

They still treat me like their own to this day.

Pulling away from Nicole, I turn to her husband who is already waiting for my hug with outstretched arms and an arched brow. I smile at him. "I missed you too, Dad."

Yeah, that’s right. Unless I call him Fred, he said I’d rather call him Dad, or I shouldn’t call him at all. I switch between the two depending on my mood on a given day. Right now, I feel like calling him Dad.

"That’s my girl," he pats my back. "We heard what he did to you," Fred says pointing at Jerald, "want me to punch him for you?"

"Please do," I joke, but I guess my voice sounds strained and it reaches his ears as a plea because the next thing I know, he’s bowing in front of his son and swinging his fist in his face.

"You heard her."

Jerald nods. "I’m ready whenever you are."

"No!" I call out when he backs away to throw the punch. "I was joking."

"Still a good girl I see," Nicole laughs at me. "I thought you’d at least want to watch him get punched after what he said to you if he did say it that is," she gives Mary a suggestive look.

"What? He really said it, you can ask Iris if you think I’m lying," Mary blurts out, pointing at me. The suggestive look slowly turns from her to me.

Clearing my throat, I nod. "He did say shitty words, and I’m still hurt." All of them pause with their eyes on me. Jerald especially. He looks like he’s been given the punch we all know was well deserved, with a pale face and stoic pose.

"But I think he wasn’t entirely wrong. If I’m being a little honest, he had every right to be annoyed with us, but NOT attack us like he did."

There is silence when I finish speaking, and Jerald looks so white, it’s unnatural.

"So...you guys want to talk about it by yourselves?" Mary breaks the silence as always.

"Yes," I confirm and she groans, clutching her face.

"You should have told me and I wouldn’t have called these two," she points at her parents.

"What do you mean, it’s nice coming back home and seeing you monkeys fighting," Nicole says, smiling.

"Yeah. The last time I saw it was around ten years ago—"

"Five, honey. Remember the fried chicken and beer fight on Christmas."

"Ha! How could I forget that one? It was legendary."

Laughing their asses off, the Adams parents sit on the couch and place whatever they brought that’s in the plastic bags on the glass table. I call Jerald outside, leaving them commenting about how the house looks new and smells fresh now, with Mary attending to them.

Walking toward the swinging chair, I sit on it and wait for Jerald to come out so we can talk. The flowery scent is stronger than I had anticipated. I inhale it, grateful for the first time in my life that I don’t have an allergy. These beauties smell ethereal.

The sun is hitting them just right, enough to make them glow in its rays—a beautiful space to read novels like the one outside my room at Lucas’ mansion.

I can’t believe I have to leave that beautiful house in three days. I think I’ll need to make one last memory with Lucas so he will remember me every time he’s alone at his house, and hopefully, he won’t be able to bring girls home without thinking about me.

The swinging chair outside my room immediately comes to mind and as much as I try to shake it off, it lingers in there like a fucking parasite. In the end, I make a note to seduce Lucas tonight.

Hopefully, there won’t be any guards lingering around the space below the patio, or else, I won’t be able to get the fuck of my life tonight.

It takes a few minutes but Jerald finally pops out from the veranda, holding the tray from earlier with steaming bowls on it. His ridiculous apron and hat are still on him, and for a moment there I wonder why Mr. Adams didn’t comment on it.

Roasting his kids is one of his favorite hobbies, and probably his favorite part about parenting too. I’m pretty sure he wanted to comment but decided against it given the situation we were in when they barged in.

Composing myself and my dirty mind, I pat my cheeks in a hopeless bid to remove the blush covering them. Jerald steps in front of me, standing in a professional stance that only an experienced waiter can pull off.

"I made you chicken," he says, extending the tray for me to place on my lap. The spicy scent smells safe to eat so I take a bite, but everything comes out the moment my taste buds accept the specimen.

Hot.

It’s too hot to eat. I choke for no reason, handing him his tray and rushing toward a tap nearby to rinse my mouth. Tears are already coming out by the time I finally get the cold liquid in my mouth.

Why did I even think he could cook? Every dish he’s ever made for us has been nothing but shit over the years, and it keeps getting shittier the older he gets.

After the bloody heat subsides, I return to my seat. "Never cook for me again. Ever."

"Noted," he snaps.

Wiping my lips, I glance at him and can tell the moment I do that he has tasted his cooking and found it hellish. "Want some water?" I ask.

He nods furiously before sprinting to the tap, throwing the food on the lawn in his speedy rampage. The way I laugh when he squats to drink on the small tap makes my lungs pang each time I take a deep breath to laugh again.

It’s like watching a bear dressed in a cutesy chef’s uniform bending down.

We settle down in a while after he returns, face still red from the impact. "So, are you ready to talk about us?"

He nods. I pat on the chair and he sits next to me, legs crossed so he can fit into the small space.

"I’m sorry, Iris. I know what I said is unforgivable, but I really am sorry. I—"

"You already apologized you," I cut him. "I’m the one who’s left to apologize."

"Please don’t."

"But I should."

"If you do that I won’t be able to forgive myself," Jerald says leaning in with hands clasped together, begging. "Please don’t," he asserts.

Sensing his sincerity, I nod. "I won’t."

"Good. That makes me feel a lot better."

And that’s it. To think I was so afraid to talk to him only for it to take this silly talk that just happened between us to solve an entire two weeks’ worth of pain and tears. So pathetic.

"Now what do we talk about?" Jerald asks. The comfortable air I’ve always felt around him is back in full force. His mouth is crooked as if he’s forcing himself not to laugh.

I can tell he can feel it too—that we are back to normal.

"I don’t know. What do you want to talk about?"

He shrugs. "Your book? Or we can talk about you and your boyfriend." He says the last part with a smile as if to show me he finally approves of the relationship I have with Lucas.

Oh, the urge to tell him we’re not yet a couple is so strong right now. I have to remind myself of the incident for a couple of seconds before I finally decide against it. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, but maybe it’ll kill me.

I just have to up my game from now on and make sure I confess to Lucas sooner before everybody finds out what we are in reality. And that starts today. I’ll give him something stronger than a drug or any other woman he’s ever known.

I’ll make him remember me, and if I play my cards right, maybe he’ll confess in the heat of the moment and I’ll use that as an opportunity to confess too.

Oh my goodness, theblushisreturningagain.

"Let’s stick to talking about my book," I reply, pulling out my phone from my pocket and rubbing my cheeks with the back of my hand to cover the blush.

Yeah. Lucas won’t know what hit him tonight. I just have to tighten up the loose ends here before rushing home on time.

Then it’ll be show time.

"Yeah, I think it’s safer that way."

★★★★★