It’s more than I hoped for, more than I dreamed. Head coach in training. A salary that triples what Cordova Linda offered. Travel expenses covered. Mondays through Thursdays in the classroom, and the rest of the time here, in the weight room, on the field, learning from him. And if I play this right, I’ll have my pick of collegiate coaching jobs one day.
When we shake hands, I feel like I’m walking on air. By the time I leave the field, I’m floating. The first thing I do is call Stella. Her phone goes to voicemail.
“Hey Stella, it's me. Call me when you get a chance.” I hang up and hail a cab to take me back to my hotel room.
I drop onto the god-awful bed, scrolling through the mediocre room service menu, when Stella’s name flashes across my screen. An incoming video call.
The second her face appears, confusion hits me like a slap. “Hey, Stella…wait, where are you?”
“Hey, baby. Ansel and I are on a friend’s yacht; it’s her birthday.” The video lags, her voice cutting in and out, but I catch the glow of the sunset bleeding across the water behind her.
“Oh. Okay. Well, have fun, Stella, I’ll—” The signal dies before I can finish.
The screen goes black. I set the phone down and let the silence press in on me. She’s out there on a yacht, probably laughing, drinking, surrounded by people. And me? I’m stuck here, stretched across a hotel bed that smells like bleach and loneliness, missing the hell out of the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. Alone. Again.
My flight lands, and I make it home before dinner on Thursday night. When I step into the kitchen, I find my stepmom, Vanessa, dancing barefoot, singing to Layla in her arms.
I drop my bag and take Layla from her, kissing her cheeks as I start spinning around the kitchen. Strawberry Wine by Deana Carter plays in the background, filling the room with warmth.
I love hearing Layla’s giggles as we spin around the kitchen. My stepmom pauses in the middle of stirring her sauce, watching us with a soft look. I know she’s worried about me moving back home. The day I called to ask if I could, I overheard a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear. They thought they had hung up.
She was afraid I might carry anger and resentment toward her and Layla, afraid I would feel like they took over the place my mother and I once held. The truth is, I think Vanessa is perfect for my dad. She is the chaos to his calm, the spark that makes him a better man and a better father.
I have a newfound respect for my dad. I am no longer angry at him, and I do not resent him for doing what he thought was best. And honestly, I always wanted a baby brother or sister. Maybe, with Layla, I will finally figure out whether I want kids of my own one day.
As the song comes to an end, Vanessa puts garlic bread in the oven, then hands me plates and silverware to set the table. “You’re eating dinner tonight, yeah?” she questions me.
“Vanessa, that smells incredible. I hope you made enough, because I could probably eat seconds.” She pats my back as I turn to walk and set the dinner table. I walk over to the fridge and grab a soda for myself, and I grab Vanessa’s favorite Zinfandel with two wine glasses.
“Donovan, you know me so well.” She laughs as Dad walks into the kitchen, kissing the top of her head.
“I swear, you D’Angelo boys must have a built-in sensor to let you know when dinner is done. Never late to eat.”
We sit down and eat dinner as a family, and I recap everything that has happened over the last few days, along with the interview.
My dad sets his fork down, concern is etched across his face, “Look, son, you know I feel you are moving too fast. She ripped you into two, and you never recovered. Never even dated anyone else after her.”
“Dad, Stella, is it for me,” I cut in, unable to hold back.
“Donovan, just let me finish,” he says firmly, lifting his hands in the air.
“I know how you felt about her in high school, so I can only imagine how you feel about her now. You both have grown into amazing young adults. I am not going to tell you it’s a good idea to uproot your life and move there for her. However, I am not going to try and stop you.” He lets out a long breath.
“I just worry about and want what is best for you. If you think moving to Virginia to start a life with her is what’s best, then you have my support in any way you need.” Tears form in his eyes as he grabs his glass of wine.
“Dad, that means a lot to me. I know I was not myself after Stella and I broke up years ago. I threw myself into football and college. Then, with the injury, it felt like my life was ending.”
I let out a slow exhale, trying to calm myself. Thinking about the things that happened over the last two years has a way of making my anxiety spike.
“Being with Stella just feels like the right move for me to make. My life makes sense with her around.”
My dad doesn’t say anything else, just nods his head and keeps eating dinner.
Stella
After a long, exhausting week, Friday finally arrives. The countdown is on; one more week until I am back in Agave Hills. It is wild how quickly we have consumed each other’s lives, and yet it feels natural. Nothing is forced, no awkward conversations. Only the comfort of each other.
Ansel and I enjoy the warm evening air as we walk toThe Velvet Nail. She’s chattering about her classes this week—the couple's spat that erupted mid-lecture, and the cram session she has planned before her Wednesday exam.
