Affairs Of The Heart

✔️T R E N T I N O V E

Chapter 39

Iris' Pov

He wasn't joking when he said he wasn't done fighting for us. For the past few days, he's done so many romantic gestures that makes me feel crappy yet strong in my decision.

He's determined but so am I.

Combing my hand through my messed up hair which has grown out past my butt, I stroll into the living room feeling pretty fucking good.

Better than I have been in a while actually.

I slept pretty okay last night, no twisting or turning or handsome billionaires on my mind.

I grab a mug from the top shelf, pouring into it freshly made coffee. Bringing the mug to my lips I sip the steaming hot beverage gingerly.

The kids have gathered in the living room and despite the fact that I've laid the news on them about Grace being well, dead, they've taken it well.

James sits on one of the couches tuning his guitar while ever so often popping a Lay's potato chip into his mouth, Naomi sits with the twins and Gabe building God knows what with those little devil construction pieces and both Mel and Christopher eat cereal, eyes transfixed on what Dora the explorer has to say.

Finishing up my cup of coffee, I rinse the cup, placing it into the dishwasher where it will be thoroughly cleaned. Making my way back to the tiny bedroom I've been staying in, I push the door open, closing it behind me.

Grabbing the file off my bed, it's a file about Claire Griffiths. I got a private eye to search up on her.

Name: Claire Griffiths
Age: 28
Place of birth: Nashville, Texas
Date of birth: October 16th
About: Daughter of Billy Griffiths and Mandy Griffiths. 2 older brothers—the first 32 and the second 29–and a younger sister.
Joined the navy at age 18 after graduating
Nashville High School. Kicked out for reasons unknown after one year.
Disappeared in January, 2016 after visiting a local pub in Arizona.

I stare at the file, sighing. What the hell am I suppose to do? I can't just call her family up and tell them they're daughter is dead but I have to, don't I?

I reach for my fixed phone, holding the rectangular device in my hand I open the phone via facial recognition. Placing a reminder to call the Griffiths, I notice the notifications.

538 messages, that's how many messages had been sent to me from worried friends, family and a certain gentleman who I dare not speak his name.

Tapping on Ezra's contact, I wince feeling guilty as I read all of her worried text messages.

Jesus, Iris, selfish much.

Ez💕✨: Call me.
Ez💕✨: I'm worried about you.
Ez💕✨: I'm here if you
want to talk.

Hi 👋.

Wow, Iris, Hi...Are you fucking with me? You haven't spoken to her in like 2 weeks. Is hi all you can think of?

In a snap, before I can consider deleting the message and retyping something better, Ezra texts back and if I know Ezra she'a probably squealing and smiling like a loon right now.