“T-thank you, sir.” Iris picked up her fork and examined her precious ziti. Its aroma was intoxicating and harkened back to homemade meals from long ago. “This smells amazing.”
“I hope you like it.” Mr. Cavendish glanced up at Iris from his tomato-and-cheese-smothered chicken parmesan. “This is one of the best spots for Italian in the city.”
“In the whole world!” Matteo chimed in from the balcony. He rattled off something in Italian at Mr. Cavendish which caused him to blush brightly enough to match his tomatoes. “You call me when you’re finished, okay, Mister Alden?”
“Y-yeah, will do.” Mr. Cavendish stammered back at Matteo and scanned Iris’s face to see if she had understood what he’d said. Seeing that she didn’t know any Italian, he sighed and resumed cutting his chicken. “Please, go ahead and try it. And don’t mind him. He has quite the imagination.”
Though hesitant and a little confused, Iris joined Mr. Cavendish and thoroughly enjoyed her baked ziti, savoring each piece of the rich, handmade pasta with an appreciative grin. Distant city noises and the nearby dusk chorus of subtle songbirds filled the air with their ambient music, which dulled Iris’s caution as they continued their lavish dinner together. The portion was so generous that she had her fill long before Mr. Cavendish had finished, and Iris used the break from eating to send a message to update her roommates on where she was.
“This was delicious, thank you.” Iris beamed at Mr. Cavendish, just as the skies lit up with fireworks behind her and to the south. “What the—"
“Iris, quick, sit here.” Mr. Cavendish waved excitedly as he sat down on the blanched summer grass near the picnic table. “Yes, right here. You can see them all without craning your neck.”
Eager to see the vibrant colors fill the skies, Iris sat in front of Mr. Cavendish on the crackly, sun-scorched grass and leaned back against him for support. Brilliant colors filled the darkened expanse, reflecting their wondrous patterns in her deep, expressive eyes. The scent of black powder filled the air, and the explosive blasts from each luminous burst nearly drowned out their appreciative comments.
“I’d forgotten how pretty they were.” Iris admitted with glassy eyes. “Like blooming flowers…”
Iris hadn’t realized that they were so close to the fairgrounds outside the city, where cars lined up to enjoy the annual fireworks show. Giardino was only a mile or two away from the fireworks launch site, which gave the pair a premiere seat for the best view. The city had gone all-out this year on expensive, complex fireworks that bathed the skies in vivid colors that reached the outskirts with their aurora. Iris flinched unconsciously at the rattle of each explosion but refused to take her eyes away from the display. Not to be outdone by previous years’ fireworks, a volley of multiple missiles launched into the air, saturating the dark canvas with their light.
“I guess you’re right.” Mr. Cavendish smiled as he glanced back to the sky. He wrapped his arms around Iris to keep her from startling at each boom. “They do look like flowers, don’t they?”
A meandering tiredness settled on Iris, as the regular intervals of light and sound, paired with the filling meal and warm, comfortable atmosphere allowed her to finally relax. Iris leaned her head back and surrendered to exhaustion. Mr. Cavendish felt her soft hair press against his chest, just as a titanic burst of red, white, and blue blossoms cascaded one after the other. This year’s finale was a true showstopper, with ceaseless blasts that sent ripples of sound into the air like cannon fire. Repeated bangs caused him to jolt, which only drew Iris’s body further into his embrace.
“I’m glad I came out tonight.” Mr. Cavendish confessed. “This might sound silly, but I’d been feeling kinda down the last few days, what with the launch and all. Everything’s been a real mess lately, and, well I—”
Iris nuzzled one side of her face into the divot in his chest, which Mr. Cavendish noticed mid-sentence and stopped dead. He remained seated on the grass, surrounded by the shrouded wilderness of crops and flowers, unsure of what to do. Iris’s breathing had softened, and Mr. Cavendish could just barely hear the fretful mumbling of a still sleeping Iris as she snuggled further. The last of the fireworks petered out, leaving only the night birds and sounds from the kitchen as their accompaniment.
“Mister Alden! Are you ready for dessert?” Matteo rushed out from the balcony once the fireworks had finished. He saw Mr. Cavendish cradling the sleeping Iris in his arms and started ribbing him in Italian for lying earlier about this dinner date.
“Matteo, per favore, fai silenzio.” Mr. Cavendish strained to keep his voice at a whisper. His out-of-control heartbeat forced his cheeks to flush as he begged Matteo to be quiet. “Please, I don’t want to wake her. She’s had a long day.”
Mr. Cavendish supported Iris in his arms and slowly rose from the grass that had been tamped flat by their visit. It was clear that he had expected Iris to be much heavier than she was, as he almost pitched backwards at her unexpected light weight. Iris remained asleep in his arms, with her head nestled into his chest. He could feel the subtle warmth from her tiny body through his light blue office shirt, which was a preciously thin Royal Oxford cloth barrier between them. Iris mumbled in her sleep, but otherwise didn’t stir.
Still stifling a snicker at his expense, Matteo packed up the leftover ziti and prepared a small paper box with a nectarine pastry and a cherry crostata each for them to enjoy later. The exquisite baked tarts were then sealed up with a line of long cotton string and added to the box of leftovers. Matteo trailed behind Mr. Cavendish as they traversed the winding pathway back to his car. He made one final joke about Alden’s dating life before Mr. Cavendish sped away into the cool summer night.
The main roads were busy with commuters heading home from the local fireworks display, so Mr. Cavendish opted to take the side roads and alternate highways to drive Iris to the apartment. He clicked the silent navigation panel on his dashboard and drove the long journey around the city. Mr. Cavendish wordlessly admitted to himself that taking this route was a selfish maneuver to spend a few precious minutes with Iris, even if she provided little more than gentle breathing to the conversation.
Mr. Cavendish had reclined the seat back before they’d left, but Iris still tossed and turned several times during the long trek home. Every time Iris made a noise, shifted in her seat, or took a sharp breath, Mr. Cavendish’s eyes flitted briefly from the road to make sure she was all right. It was growing clearer to him that this continuous behavior was more than idle concern for the wellbeing of a coworker. He’d enjoyed their dinner together, more so than he’d expected, and had caught himself smiling on multiple occasions this evening.
A fork in the road presented itself; taking the right-bound highway would get them to Iris’s apartment in twenty minutes, but the left-bound route would get them to his doorstep in only seven. For reasons outside of his understanding, Mr. Cavendish hesitated before taking the right way. He shot a quick glance at Iris before shifting to the right-most lane and diverting to the off ramp.
What was I thinking? She should be resting at her apartment, not crashing at my place. What’s the matter with me today?
He was certain that Matteo had only served them iced water, but Mr. Cavendish couldn’t help but think his mind was addled by something much stronger for which he couldn’t account. And his face still felt flushed from earlier. Granted, it was a balmy day, and the fireworks were intense, but that was no reason for him to still feel so warm when the sun’s brutish rays had long since abandoned them to the easy coolness of night. The closer they got to Iris’s apartment, the more ill at ease Mr. Cavendish felt.
Finally arriving at her doorstep, Mr. Cavendish carried Iris up to the front door and rang the faulty doorbell. A rush of confused mumbling lurked behind the door, with what sounded like at least two men and a woman arguing. After a brief spat and a silence, the door opened on the tall, blue-haired man with a disapproving expression.
“Hey now, what’s going on?” Zayzann accused with a raised whisper, drawing Khazmine’s interest in the background. “What did you do?”
“I came to drop her off.” Mr. Cavendish replied in hushed tones, still holding Iris gingerly in his arms. “She fell asleep before I could get her home, and I wanted to make sure she got in safely.”
“Thank you for your concern.” Khazmine chimed in as she snuck around Zayzann, who was blocking the doorway with crossed arms. “I’ll take her, here.”
Mr. Cavendish reluctantly relinquished the sleeping Iris over to Khazmine, disguised as Cassie, who had no difficulty lifting her roommate and carrying her to the bedroom. Once the two ladies departed, Zayzann still blocked the doorway to prevent this nosy human from even thinking of approaching their nest. He had a tensed, agitated posture that dripped with annoyance and hostility for the intruder.
“You’ve done what you’ve come for.” Zayzann chided. “What more do you want?”
“I just wanted to let her know that she doesn’t have to come in tomorrow.” Mr. Cavendish tilted his head at the abrasive roommate. “She did an excellent job today, and I’ve taken care of arrangements, so she can get some rest tomorrow. Oh, and I have some food for her in the car. Wait just a second, please.”
“What is this?” Zayzann took a small sniff at the baked ziti and immediately shuddered. One or more of the spices used to flavor the pasta were highly irritating to his sensitive nose, causing his expression to sour. “I smell fruit, meat, and…”
“It’s pasta. We went out for dinner once she finished work.” Mr. Cavendish quirked a brow at Zayzann. He was incredibly antagonistic against Alden for someone who wasn’t romantically involved with Iris. “It was my treat. Going by how much she had, I’d say she had a splendid time.”
That struck a nerve. Zayzann’s grasp tightened around the paper boxes, and he smothered the urge to lash out with a biting comment. Getting food for this new family was his job, and no broad-shouldered, inflexible human was going to take that duty away from him. A faint odor of adrenaline seeped from Zayzann, drawing Byxx’s attention from his concealed position in the kitchen.
“Hey, are you done out there? You’re lettin’ all the cold air out.” Byxx called from his hiding place by the stove. “Come on, Zayne.”
With that, Zayzann drew his ears back and turned away from Mr. Cavendish, practically slamming the door on him without so much as a “thank you” for bringing his roommate home. Mr. Cavendish narrowed his eyes and couldn’t help but feel annoyed by their exchange. In that singular moment, he became convinced that Zayne’s interest was more than just for a roommate, and it left a nasty taste in his mouth.
Comments (4)
See all