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“Has anyone ever told you that you squint when you lie?” His scowl only deepened. “No, but only because no one has spent as much time looking at me as you do, Winnow.” Someone snickered from a nearby desk.
Iris let the heavy glass door swing closed behind her, right in Roman’s face, and she heard the squeak of his shoes and his grunt of annoyance.
lips together. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, his teeth clinking shut as he shifted sideways. Iris stepped over the threshold. Her arm brushed his chest; she heard him exhale, a hiss as if she had burned him,
Roman was reading in bed when the paper arrived. He had come to know the sound of Iris’s letters well, how they slipped like a whisper into his room.
HE KNOWS ITS HER??
“I always thought the two of you would make such a striking pair. A few of the editors—not me, of course—cast bets that you would end up together.” “Me and Kitt?” Sarah nodded, biting her lip as if she feared Iris’s reaction. “Don’t be silly,” Iris said with a half-hearted laugh. But her face suddenly felt hot. “Kitt and I are like fire and ice. I think we’d probably kill each other if we had to be in the same room for too long.
Roman Coddled Kitt was engaged, then.
love the new c middle name every time
She was halfway mortified until she felt the air stir at her elbow. Iris knew it was Roman without looking at him. She recognized his cologne—some heady mix of spice and evergreen.
She didn’t know how to reply. She hadn’t anticipated Roman Condescending Kitt ever apologizing to her.
But if I’ve learned anything from those fools, it’s that to be vulnerable is a strength most of us fear. It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are.
Perhaps it begins with one person. Someone you trust. You remove a piece of armor for them; you let the light stream in, even if it makes you wince. Perhaps that is how you learn to be soft yet strong, even in fear and uncertainty. One person, one piece of steel.
One person. One piece of armor. I’ll strive for this.
Roman Upper Class Kitt was standing in her home.
A deep breath unspooled from her as she went to lock the door, and then she thought better of it, and looked through the peephole again. He was still standing there, hands shoved into his coat pockets, his dark hair windblown. Waiting. Her annoyance flared until she bolted the door. As soon as he heard the locks slide, Roman Kitt turned and left.
Sometimes I’m afraid to love other people. Everyone I care about eventually leaves me, whether it’s death or war or simply because they don’t want me. They go places I can’t find, places I can’t reach. And I’m not afraid to be alone, but I’m tired of being the one left behind.
Your grief will never fully fade; it will always be with you—a shadow you carry in your soul—but it will become fainter as your life becomes brighter.
Others who share your pain will also help you heal. Because you are not alone. Not in your fear or your grief or your hopes or your dreams. You are not alone.
But she knew the moment Roman walked into the office. She knew it like a cord was bound between the two of them, even though she refused to look at him.
He should be thrilled. He had solidified himself as the new columnist. He no longer had to worry about the things on his desk being rearranged. He no longer had to race to the bulletin board for assignments. He no longer had to pretend he was too busy for sandwiches. If this was the life he wanted, then why did it feel so hollow?
tears
Roman Cocky Kitt.
Attie was nearly shaking with laughter, and Iris shot her a stern look. Which only made Attie laugh, and gods, if she didn’t have a contagious one, just like Roman Kitt.
Roman couldn’t bear to sit. He stood and paced again, wearing a trench into the rug.
He sat on the floor and reread them, and while he had always been moved by her words to Forest, he realized that he felt pierced by all the words she had written to him. They made him ache, and he didn’t know why.
“In case you forgot, I can tell when you lie, Roman. You squint.” He only laughed, because hadn’t Iris said the very thing to him last week?
I admire you, in more ways than one. Keep writing. You will find the words you need to share. They are already within you, even in the shadows, hiding like jewels. Yours, —C.
It was Roman Confounded Kitt.
actuly its carver
“A few. I slept through most of my mythology classes.” She had a hard time imagining that. Roman Competitive Kitt, who wanted to be the best at everything.
She was glaring at him now. That fire in her eyes could have brought him to his knees,
Roman Chafing Kitt
“Just sit here with me, Miss Winnow. Everyone … they’re gone. All of them.” It took her a moment to understand what he meant. That “everyone” was his platoon. The Sycamores.
TEARS poor lark
She was still holding Lieutenant Lark’s hand an hour later when he died.
I love you, Iris. And I want you to see me. I want you to know me. Through the smoke and the firelight and kilometers that once dwelled between us. Do you see me? —C.
“You asked me this once, months ago, and I refused to answer. But I want you to ask me again, Iris. Ask me what my middle name is.”
Roman Cheeky Kitt. Roman Cantankerous Kitt. Roman Conceited Kitt
“The C is for Carver,” Roman said, leaning closer to her. “My name is Roman Carver Kitt.”
I am coming to love him, in two different ways. Face to face, and word to word. If I’m honest, there were moments when I longed for Carver, and moments when I longed for Roman, and now I don’t know how to bring the two together. Or if I even should.
“Oh, come now. Could you at least give me the initial? It would only be fair.” “I suppose I can’t argue with that,” she said. “My middle name begins with an E.” Roman smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And whatever could it be? Iris Enchanting Winnow? Iris Ethereal Winnow? Iris Exquisite Winnow?”
“See something you like?” he asked, not missing a beat. His gaze remained on his paper, his fingertips flying over the keys. Iris frowned. “You’re distracting me, Kitt.” “I’m pleased to hear it. Now you know how I’ve felt all this bloody time, Iris.”
never got your name,” Keegan said, glancing at her. “Iris Winnow.” Keegan’s eyes widened. She tripped over a loose cobblestone, but her reaction to Iris’s name was quickly stifled, which made Iris wonder if she had merely imagined it. Although she was haunted by an unspoken question … Has Keegan heard of me before?
Tea
Iris met Attie’s gaze. “Are you telling me…” Attie smiled, tugging on her hand. “I’m telling you that Roman Carver Kitt is in the garden, waiting to marry you.”
This was the life she wanted—slow and easy and vibrant, surrounded by people she loved. If only she could bottle this moment. If only she could drink from it in the days to come, to remember this feeling of warmth and wholeness and joy. As if all of her pieces had come back together, far stronger than they had been before she had broken. She realized this was her family now. That there were bonds that ran deeper than blood.
