Iris
My palms are sweaty as Ezra parks the car in front of the main entrance to my parents’ estate. I check my reflection in my compact mirror one last time—hair neatly brushed, light makeup, a simple but elegant dress. I look put together, but my insides feel like they’re on fire.
We exit the car, and I help Miles out of his seat. He immediately grabs my hand, sensing my anxiety. He’s being remarkably calm, which I appreciate more than he could possibly know. Arthur takes my other hand and gives it a squeeze as we walk up the path.
The front door opens before we reach it. Caleb steps out, grinning. “They’re waiting in the solarium,” he says, then adds in a whisper to me, “Mom hasn’t stopped crying all morning.”
The word “Mom” makes my throat tighten. I’ve never had a mom b
