“Hey, Zara?” she asked as she arrived at Zara’s desk.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you drive me home?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I want to take the flowers home, but I can’t exactly do that on my bike.”

  “Oh,” Zara replied. “Yeah, sure. You can put your bike in my trunk.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  Arwen left Zara there to work, still wondering what was going on with her, and a couple of hours later, she put her bike in Zara’s trunk, using a bungee cord to keep the trunk down. They’d done this a few times, but not often. Zara was always prepared, though, and usually offered her a ride if it was raining or in winter, especially if Arwen had taken the subway or ridden her bike in on a day where no snow had been anticipated. The flowers she had kept in her lap because she didn’t want to risk them tipping over in the back seat.

  “Here you go,” Zara said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come up? You don’t have to help me pick out an outfit. We can just talk. I have to shower first, but after that, we can talk while I get ready.”

  “What would we talk about, Arwen?”

  “Whatever’s going on with you,” she suggested.

  “I’m fine. I don’t know how many times I can tell you that before it’s clear that I am fine.”

  “Your eyes are bloodshot. They were like that the other night, too.”

  “Because I haven’t been sleeping well. That’s all. Now, I’m double-parked, so you need to get out, or I’ll get a damn ticket.”

  “Fine,” Arwen replied. “I’ll set the flowers down on the sidewalk and hope no one steals them while I get my bike out of the trunk.”

  “Great,” Zara said sarcastically.

  Arwen hadn’t ever seen this side of Zara before, and if she didn’t have to get out of the car or risk her further anger, she would’ve called her on it, but that would have to wait for another day. She got out, resisting the urge to slam the door, and set the bouquet on the sidewalk by the door to her building. Then, she retrieved her bike from the trunk and couldn’t resist slamming the trunk lid at least.

  Seconds later, Zara rejoined traffic, and Arwen watched her car turn at the next light, deciding she would worry about her later. Right now, she needed to get both her bike and the flowers upstairs, knowing if she left either, they’d likely get stolen in the minute it took her to get back downstairs. She pulled open the door, hefted the bouquet in one hand, and used her other to steer the bicycle inside. She normally just took the stairs, but not with her bike, so she was grateful she didn’t live in a walk-up. When she got to her floor, she nearly dropped the flowers but kept them close to her chest, only splashing a little water over herself instead.

  “The things I do for the environment,” she said to herself. “Should’ve just driven to work today.”

  She unlocked her door, put her bike in its usual spot by the window in the living room, and set the flowers on the kitchen table, moving them to the middle to take them in more fully. She got more water for them to replace what had been spilled and headed to her bedroom so she could start getting ready. Right before she was about to get into the shower, her phone pinged. Expecting it to be Zara with an apology, she was surprised to see that it was from Iro.

  “No, don’t be canceling,” she said and opened the message app.

  Iro No Last Name: I can’t wait to see you.

  Arwen sat on the side of her bed and simply sighed.

  CHAPTER 8

  Iro

  Iro sat in the back seat of the SUV and held a red rose in her hands, staring down at it, knowing the meaning of this flower well. She’d once given these flowers to another woman, and she had been alive when she’d done it. She’d never given Cassia red roses. Not really a flowers kind of woman, Cassia preferred blood and sex as gifts, and, at times, Iro had happily obliged, but as she sat staring at this red rose, she thought of her first love and what giving this flower to another woman after all these years meant.

  There had still been the smell of smoke in the air when Iro had been born, her mother had told her. The Great Fire had only just been vanquished when Iro had arrived to a house of already four children, all girls. Her father had hoped for a son, of course, and yet again, his wife had delivered to him a girl. By the time Iro was thirty years old, her mother was long gone, dying before Iro had turned sixteen. Trying to give her father a sixth child, and a boy at that, had been the reason her mother had been lost to the five children she’d already had. All of Iro’s older sisters were already married, and three of them had children of their own. One of them had two sons, so her father, who had been so unkind to his daughters, finally had a male heir to take over his blacksmith shop. That meant he cared not for his youngest child, so Iro came and went mostly as she pleased.

  “You can’t keep bringing me flowers,” Mary said. “He’ll find them and wonder what man is trying to steal his wife.”

  Iro smirked and replied, “Then, he’ll never find me.” She climbed on top of Mary, tossing the red rose aside. “I’ve missed you. You’ve been busy.”

  “We have responsibilities, Iro. My husband is important.”

  “Can we not talk about your husband?” she asked.

  “You’re naked in his bed, my love.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Iro said and slipped off her, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling.

  “Please, don’t act this way. He’ll be back tomorrow night. Your father doesn’t know you’re here. Let’s just enjoy our time together.”

  Mary moved on top of Iro and straddled her hips.

  “Run away with me.”

  “Iro, we’ve been over this.”

  “Mary, he doesn’t love you like I do.”

  “Iro, you’re a woman. I’m a woman. I love you with all my heart, but we cannot run away together. Where would we even go? What would we do? How would we make money? What happens when someone figures out we’re two women living together and sharing a bed? It’s unrealistic, my love.” Mary cupped Iro’s cheek. “Let’s just enjoy what we can while we can.”

  “What do you mean, while we can?”

  Mary leaned down and kissed her.

  “No, Mary. What do you mean, while we can?”

  Mary leaned back and said, “I’m with child, Iro.”

  “What?”

  “It’s early. I’ve told no one. He doesn’t even know yet.”

  “You’re pregnant?” Iro asked, shifting until she was sitting up, leaving Mary to straddle her thighs.

  “Yes. You knew this would happen eventually.”

  “You just married.”

  “Seven months ago. People are already asking when I’d give him a child. You know how this works, Iro. Had your father cared about you how he cares about his grandsons, he would have married you off already, too. I’m certain he will soon. He’ll want the dowry.”

  “I’ll never marry,” Iro stated.

  “Iro, you’ll have to marry. Like it or not, you’re a woman. Your father won’t let you remain unmarried, living in his house forever. He’ll eventually remarry himself, and he won’t need you to cook for him and clean the house.”

  “I won’t do it, Mary. I’ll never let a man touch me how you touch me.”

  Mary looked at her with sympathy in her eyes and replied, “I wish that were true; that no man would ever get to touch you how I do.” She ran a hand between Iro’s breasts. “I hate when he touches me, but now that I’m with child, he won’t as often, and he won’t want to be around a crying baby all the time, which means you and I can be together more often.”

  “With a child that you share with a man you don’t love?” Iro said.

  “Iro, if I could change this, I would. If I could marry you, run away with you, and be with only you for the rest of my life, I would love nothing more. You are my only. You are my one true love. I want nothing more than to live that life with you, but we can’t. I can’t.”

  “I love you. I’ll give anything for that. What do I have to do to convince you that we can make this work?”

  Mary climbed off her then and wrapped herself around Iro’s body instead.

  “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do. I’m pregnant. I can’t raise this child with you, Iro. We’d have no money, no home, no way to ensure their safety. I can’t. It’s not just about me anymore.”

  Iro lay there with the only person she had ever loved and knew things were about to change. She had no idea exactly how yet, and what it would do to her, but six months later, when she found out that Mary was in labor, Iro went to the local pub, one of the few buildings that had survived The Great Fire of London the year of her birth. It didn’t make sense for her to be at the house with Mary. They’d always kept their closeness a secret so as not to draw attention to their relationship. She walked through the door and earned stares since women typically didn’t enter the pub unaccompanied, unless they were working, and she sat down at a table that smelled of smoke, somehow.

  “Hello,” a woman said as she sat down across from Iro.

  She had long brown hair and gray eyes, which Iro had never seen before.

  “Hello,” Iro replied.

  “I’m Cassia. And you are?”

  “Iro,” she said.

  “Iro? That’s an interesting name.”

  “Yes,” she said without adding anything else.

  “What are you doing here tonight?”

  “I needed to get out of my house for a while. A friend of mine is having a baby right now, and well, I’m nervous for her.”

  “You’re not there with her?” Cassia asked.

  “No. Her… husband is, I assume.”

  Cassia looked at her quizzically and said, “I see. And do you wish she didn’t have a husband?”

  “Pardon?” Iro asked.

  Cassia leaned forward and said, “It’s all right. I can tell, but no one else can. Can you not tell the same about me?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re very beautiful,” Cassia stated. “You would be even prettier with shorter hair, though. Your face would be even more striking.”

  “Thank you. I should go,” Iro replied and stood.

  “I don’t have a husband.”

  “Pardon?” Iro repeated.

  “Your friend has a husband. I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry for you, then,” she lied.

  “No, you shouldn’t be. I’ve managed for a long time without one, and I don’t plan on getting one in this lifetime, either. I assume it’s the same for you.”

  “I should be going.”

  “Iro, she’s married to a man and is having his child; not yours, dear.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  “You should be with someone you won’t have to share,” Cassia said. “Unless you want to.”

  Iro wasn’t sure what she meant by that, so she said nothing. She bowed her head instead, excused herself, and left the pub. It had been a mistake to go there at all. She went home, found her father was still out, and climbed into bed, hoping he’d stay gone all the while thinking of the fact that Mary was probably now a mother.

  When Iro woke the next day, she picked a rose from someone’s garden and walked it to Mary’s house, only to see Mary’s parents crying on the street. She knew them, but not well. She and Mary had met through church, but no one knew they’d been in touch much beyond that. Seeing them crying and putting two and two together was how Iro found out that Mary had died during childbirth and that the baby had been lost as well. She dropped the flower on the street, turned, and ran. Iro ran until she couldn’t run anymore, and at some point, she ended up back in front of Mary’s house, feeling like her life was over. Then, Cassia appeared at Iro’s side.

  “I can take away all of that pain, if you want,” she said.

  Iro swallowed hard at the memory. Cassia had lied, of course. Becoming a vampire hadn’t taken away any of her pain. It had given her immortality and more time to deal with that pain, rather than joining Mary wherever she was in the next life. Iro had been too angry to kill herself after Cassia had turned her, though. She’d also craved blood. Cassia had offered her a way out of her life, and she had meant freedom to Iro. She had meant unbridled passion, and they’d spent the next century together, traversing the globe, fucking everywhere they could, and making love sometimes as well.

  Then, Iro had wanted a break from it all. She had asked for it, and Cassia had granted her time apart with the promise of getting back together. Cassia had always called Iro her one true love, but Iro hadn’t ever felt that that was the case on her end. She had fallen in love with Cassia, yes, but Mary had been her one true love. Mary had been sweet and beautiful. Their first kiss had been tentative, and they had laughed. She’d tasted of the sweet custard that they’d had in a tart that they’d shared, and they had lain in a field and made love after that kiss and their laughter. Neither had known what to do, and they had been terrified of getting caught, but they’d had many years together before Mary had been taken from her.

  All these centuries later, and Iro still thought of Mary. She still considered Mary her one true love. She’d been with other women since then, of course. The vampire part of her had craved sex more than blood at times. Mostly, that was all they had ever been to her: sex or a brief relationship to pass the time before she would reach back out to Cassia, ready to return to her side, because, in a way, that had always seemed inevitable.

  This time felt different somehow. Iro couldn’t explain why. She thought of Mary and whatever life they could’ve had together after the baby if she hadn’t lost her. She thought of their moments before Mary’s wedding and how they’d used to talk to one another about what they would do if they could do anything. Then, she thought of Arwen and how beautiful she was. She was sweet and smelled of soap. After only a few minutes with her, Iro knew she was feeling it again: that pull toward another woman, how she’d been pulled to Mary. She hardly knew anything about Arwen, but as she sat in the back seat, on her way to their date, Iro knew that this mattered, and she didn’t want to waste her opportunity for something great again.

  “Maybe I’ve been given a second chance,” she said to herself.

  “Ma’am?” her driver asked.

  “Sorry. Nothing,” she replied. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Door?”

  “I’ve got it,” she replied and opened her own door before climbing out, holding on to the rose probably a little too tightly.

  She checked that her slacks and jacket weren’t wrinkled and that her shirt and tie were also in order. Then, she walked to Arwen’s building and pulled open the unlocked door that still unnerved her because doors in a modern city should have locks and buzzers so that unsavory people like Iro couldn’t get inside.

  She saw the elevator but decided to take the stairs since she was sure Arwen took the stairs herself. When she reached the second floor, Iro walked down the hall. Finding the door marked 2F, she looked around for a moment. The old, dingy hallway carpet in this apartment building needed to be replaced. The off-white paint on the walls showed all the dirt, grime, scrapes, and tears. Iro could also smell all sorts of body odor, as well as a small amount of mold growing somewhere within these walls, and she didn’t like that Arwen lived here. It wasn’t her decision, of course, and she had no right to tell a woman where to live, but this place wasn’t clean or safe, and Iro didn’t like that at all.

  Seeing no doorbell, she knocked and waited. Then, she heard a few locks turn, which made her smile, and the door opened, revealing Arwen standing there in a tight, strapless black dress that had Iro’s mouth falling open.

  “Hi,” Arwen said.

  “Hello,” Iro replied and held out the rose. “For you.”

  “Another flower?” Arwen asked and took it from her. “Come in. I’ll put it in water.”

  “Very well,” Iro said before she walked into the apartment and closed the door behind her. “You have four locks here?”

  “I do. It’s not the best part of town; I know. So, I try to be as safe as I can, at least. I have locks on my windows, too, and pepper spray in the drawer by my bed.”

  Iro looked around the small apartment that looked as if it had been cobbled together over the years with mismatched furniture and a few prints of famous paintings on the walls from different periods in art. It all felt very much like Arwen somehow, and Iro was smiling again.

  “Um… Do you want a drink or something before we go?” Arwen asked and slid the red rose into the vase that held the other flowers Iro had given her before turning around to face her.

  “No, thank you. Another time, perhaps. I made a reservation, so we should be going soon.”

  “Okay. I just need to grab my purse, and we can go.”

  “Arwen?”

  “Yeah?” she asked as she picked up her purse from the coffee table.

  “You look incredibly beautiful, but you didn’t have to dress up for me,” Iro said.

  “You’re wearing a suit,” Arwen pointed out.

  “I came straight from work, I’m afraid, so I didn’t have time to change.”

  “Maybe so. But why do I have a feeling you don’t own even one pair of jeans?”

  Iro laughed a little, held out her hand for Arwen to take, and said, “I own jeans. I don’t wear them often, but I do own them.”

  “Okay. What about sweatpants?”

  “I have sweatpants, too, yes.” Iro opened the door. “I work out in them sometimes.”

  “You work out, too?”

  “I run on my treadmill every morning. It helps… with stress,” she said, not telling Arwen that it also helped with the cravings.

  “What do you sleep in? Sweats still, or some really fancy matching pajamas? Do you have a pajama tie?”

  Iro laughed again and said, “No, I usually sleep naked.” Then, they walked out the door, but Arwen just stopped in the hallway, so Iro asked, “Are you okay?”