This was a really big deal. Cal was coming home with me. Meeting my parents, my sisters, my nieces and nephews—both human and canine. On my fucking birthday.
Stella Stella Stella, what have you done?
Serina: And you're bringing him home? Do Mom and Dad know?
Stella: Yeah. I just got off the phone with them.
Sophia: Wait wait wait.
Sophia: You told Mom and Dad you were bringing a male home and you didn't conference us in?
Serina: I really wanted to hear the screaming.
Sophia: Is Mom rewallpapering the bathroom? She's been complaining about that bathroom for a time.
Serina: No, she's down at the church. Praying to Saint Marguerite d'Youville, the patron saint of marriage.
Stella: I'm not getting married.
Sophia: HA. Hahahahahaha.
Serina: You know what? This is like the hometown date episode of The Bachelorette!
Sophia: Do you think he's going to ask for Dad's blessing?
Serina: omg that would be adorable. A little man chat down in the basement where Dad asks him about his intentions. Love this so hard.
Stella: Seriously. I am not getting married.
Serina: Of course you're not, Stellaluna. You're just bringing a guy home for the first time. Happens every day!
This man.He had all my firsts.
26
Cal
The knockat the door sounded as I shrugged into my suit coat. I stole another glance in the mirror before making my way through the apartment to open the door for Stella, cursing myself for not giving her a key.
I'd remedy that soon enough. She could have a key to my apartment while I went on not knowing where she lived. I was nothing if not consistently ahead of the game.
I swung the door open, saying, "I'm getting you a key so you can let yourself in. But not today. That's a poor excuse for a birthday gift—and happy birthday, sweet thing."
She stepped through the doorway, her shiny yellow shoes whispering against the hardwood floor. She looked damn cute. She wore a short black dress, the kind made from t-shirt fabric that skimmed her curves and made her tits look like they needed to be devoured. A little jean jacket too, the cuffs folded up to her forearms. Just too fucking cute.
The kind of cute I could only acknowledge by burying my head between her legs and admiring her dress from underneath.
"Look at you, making me open my own doors. And they say chivalry is dead," she replied with a lopsided smile. But then her eyes widened, her lips parted. A sound rattled in her throat. She lifted her fingers to her lips, held them there. "Oh, shit. Look at you."
Most days, I interpreted that reaction as positive. Stella was a big fan of suits and that was why I wore them as often as possible. But this didn't seem altogether positive.
I glanced down, expecting to discover a blob of toothpaste on my lapel or a rip in my trousers. I found neither. "What's wrong?"
She stared at me, her fingertips pressing her lips hard enough to turn them white. "You're wearing a suit."
"Yes," I replied, gesturing toward myself.
"You can't wear a suit." She shook her head. "You—you can't."
