"I've shown you mine"—also untrue as there was plenty I had yet to see—"now I want you to show me yours." She motioned toward me with her fork, poking at the air as if that would spur me to speech. "You're a doctor. You're hot as fuck. Like, goddamn." I almost fell off the chair at that. "You're smart and successful, which hides the awkward real well. You're rumbly-grumbly but that only cranks up the fuck-hot factor as far as I see it. You're a catch, my friend. Why hasn't anyone caught you?"
I wasn't sure how I managed to stay seated while she spoke. I was either falling out of the chair and flopping on the floor like a fish on a line or tossing her over my shoulder and rushing toward the first enclosed space I could find. I'd make up for what I lacked in finesse with a fucking that robbed her of sight and speech for a time.
But then Stella continued, "Maybe someone did. She caught you but she didn't keep you. Or you didn't keep her." She gave me the sad-faced head tilt. "That's what happened. Isn't it?"
I stared at her for a beat or two then looked down at the dishes between us. I picked at a few, depositing a bit of this and some of that on my plate without much thought. All while I regretted the topic at hand, the one I forced.
"Ah ha," she whispered. "That is it."
"Basically," I replied, still dropping food on my plate. "I had a relationship while I was in Ranger school, down in Georgia. Ranger school ended. I deployed. She promised she'd wait for me but definitely didn't as evidenced by her moving up to North Carolina and marrying a Green Beret while I was overseas."
"I fucking hate her."
My head snapped up at Stella's sharp tone but it was her icy glare that hit me hardest. "You—what?"
"I fuckinghateher," she repeated, a slight laugh edging into her words as she reached for her phone. "Give me her name. I hate her and I'm going to spend the rest of the night making snotty comments about her Instagram posts."
I couldn't fight the warm smile pulling at my lips. Stella—the woman who swore up and down she didn't dothis, didn't like attachments, didn't want anything but drama-free fun—wanted to snark on my ex's Instagram.
"The name, Cal. I want it."
"It's in the past," I said lightly. If she heard me repeating her words back to her, she didn't acknowledge it. "Half a lifetime ago."
"Doesn't make me hate her any less," Stella replied.
"And now you know how I feel about that ex-fiancé of yours," I said.
She blinked at me. Her lips parted but no sound came out. I didn't think it was possible but in walking the length of this circle, I'd stunned her into silence.
"Like you said," I continued. "Not broken. Not wounded. Ancient history."
Stella stared at me for a long moment. "And you believe that?"
I nodded. "As much as you do."
17
Stella
"I don't understandwhat you don't understand about this," Flinn snapped.
"And I don't understand why you can't answer a question without reminding everyone you're the smartest guy in the room," Tatum replied.
"It's not my fault people are idiots," he said.
"Now you're calling me an idiot? Really?" she whisper-shrieked.
"I'm not callingyouan idiot," he replied. "I'm just saying this isn't complicated stuff and capable people should be able to understand it without hand-holding."
"So, you're saying I'm incapable," she said.
I rolled my eyes at my office door. It was closed but that didn't save me from today's rendition of Tatum and Flinn Hate Each Other. It was sibling-styled hate, the kind they turned on anyone who threatened their little cabal.
"I'll walk you through it if you want," he offered. "I don't mind."
"You don't mind wasting time on idiots? How good of you," she replied.
With that, I reached for my earbuds. There was enough noise in my head without those two. I'd spent the morning shepherding McKendrick through one goodwill photo op after another and my schedule was suffering from it. Remediating his image held the keys to my promotion but he was only one of many clients on my roster and the day still maxed out at twenty-four hours. Making it work was becoming more difficult.
