Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I’m not sure which of you is supposed to be a barnacle in this scenario of hers. But either way, it’s not good,” Henry said.
“I mean, a mermaid and a politician,” Iris went on, reaching up to flip her hair. Even the cameraman lost focus for a second, zeroing in on the silky strands and the way the sun hit the shimmering scales up near her hairline. “It’s all uncharted waters,” Iris said.
What was with all the ocean references? He’d been living with the woman for a while now and hadn’t ever heard her use fishy puns or ocean metaphors.
Was she just nervous?
“I think we’re going to be making waves, though, that’s for sure.”
“No doubt about that,” Porsha cut back in. “Well, you heard it here, folks. One of America’s most eligible politicians has clearly been reeled in. This is Porsha DeWinter, Channel 16.”
“What,” Henry started, turning off his tablet, “and I can’t stress this enough, in the hell was that?”
That was a good question.
Finn had never seen Iris act so fake.
He didn’t like it.
Even if he knew it was exactly what he and Henry were constantly demanding of her.
“I don’t know. But we can’t figure that out until we find Iris and ask her.”
“No, we have to figure out how to get ahead of this. There are going to be hundreds of calls, people asking for comments, for interviews. And memes. There are going to be so many memes.”
“I need to find Iris.”
That look in her eyes before she’d walked off was still bothering him.
“No. We’re going back to the office. Now.”
As if on cue, both of their phones started to ring.
It had begun.
“You get two hours,” Finn offered. He fell into step with Henry as he answered the call from one of the interns.
Finn could hear her tight, frantic tone, likely overwhelmed at having to hold down the fort alone.
“We’re on our way. Don’t answer until I get there and give you our comment.”
They spent the rest of the walk trying to come up with something to leak to the news stations and gossip accounts.
“You know what happens next, right?” Henry asked after they had spent a few hours putting out the fires.
“A joint TV interview.”
“I’ll see what I can get—daytime or late-night. Daytime is traditional. Late-night will pin you as the fun, relatable new couple on the block. I’m going to poke around and see who might be interested.”
“Okay.”
“You need to find your fiancée and inform her that she is going to be on round-the-clock media training from now until we put this fire out. And tell her not to speak to anyone without you again.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first twenty times,” Finn grumbled, raking a hand down his face.
It was supposed to be a nice day.
A turning point.
A simple win.
Maybe a moment Iris would look back on and think: Okay, this wasn’t so bad.
Instead, it was unraveling by the minute.
Now, he had to ruin what was left of it by lecturing Iris about talking to the media.
“Get that look off your face before you hit the street. The last thing we need right now is someone snapping a picture of you walking alone, looking miserable. After being called a barnacle.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Henry,” Finn said, turning and walking away.
He did force his lips to tilt up before he started walking, but it took a lot more effort than usual. His face hurt by the time he got back to his apartment.
“Monty!” he snapped when he opened the door to find the bird standing on the arm of the couch, looming over Checkers as he slept, his giant beak open wide.
The pelican jerked, just barely managing to stop himself from face-planting on the cat.
“What?” the flustered bird asked, fluffing his white feathers. “I was yawning. Big yawn. Stretching my jaw hinge. Totally normal.” At Finn’s raised brows, he added, “This is why no one trusts birds anymore.” He dramatically waved out a wing. “One open beak and suddenly I’m a menace.”
“You can’t eat the cat, Monty,” Finn reminded the bird with what little patience he had left after a long day.
“I wasn’t going to eat it. I was going to cradle it. Gently. In my beak. Like a cozy little emotional support snack—I mean friend!”
Checkers had woken up and was eyeing the pelican with totally earned suspicion.
“Have you seen Iris?”
“You mean your resplendent, glittering, camera-ready-on-a-random-afternoon fiancée? She mumbled something about saltwater therapy. Wait,” he called as Finn went to head back out to check the pool.
“What?” Finn asked, hearing a strange whooshing sound coming from the shell sitting on the coffee table. Was that some kind of spelled gift, something that reminded her of home? Spelled conch shells, trips down to the saltwater pool. She was crying out for connections to her roots, to the salt water that was in her veins. Their schedules were jam-packed with the election creeping closer, but he had to find some time for her to reconnect with the ocean, to get to be a mermaid, not just his future wife.