“Here,” she added, in case that wasn’t clear. “For senior year. For—I don’t know. Longer. If that’s...”
She risked a glance. Tyler had gone very still, his coffee cup frozen halfway to his mouth.
“You want to stay,” he repeated.
“I’ve wanted to for weeks. I just didn’t know how to say it.” She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “I know it’s complicated. Visas and school transfers and all of that. And I know we’d have to figure out where I’d even live, since your futon is basically a torture device?—”
“Hey, that futon has character.”
“It has springs that attack people in their sleep.”
“Character springs.” But he was smiling now. “Stella. You want to stay?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re sure? Not just because Bea’s planned your entire senior year already, or because Joey’s convinced we’ll collapse without you?—”
“Joey thinks you’ll collapse without anyone. He’s already training his replacement for a school that’s twenty minutes away.”
“Fair point.” Tyler set down his coffee, turned to face her properly. “You’re sure.”
It wasn’t a question this time. He was studying her face, looking for doubt.
“I’m sure,” she said. “This is where I want to be. With you lot. Even though you’re all completely mental.”
“We prefer ‘eccentric.’”
“You would.”
He laughed, and for a moment everything felt simple. Possible. Like wanting something and getting it might actually be the same thing.
Then her phone buzzed again, and the weight came back.
“The problem is Mum,” Stella said. “She’s not going to agree to this. She’s already enrolled me. She’s already planned the whole year. And every time I think about calling her and actually saying it—” She shook her head. “She’s going to think I’m abandoning her. Abandoning the twins. Choosing you over them.”
Tyler was quiet. She watched him pick up his coffee again, take a sip, set it back down.
“Have you talked to her about it at all?” he asked. “Even hinted?”
“No. I’ve been avoiding her calls for a week.” Stella pulled out her phone, looked at the screen. Four unread messages now. “She knows something’s wrong. She’s being very... understanding. Which is worse, somehow.”
“Worse than angry?”
“Angry I could fight. Understanding just makes me feel guilty.”
She opened the most recent message, let Tyler see it.
I know you’re busy with the festival. But please call when you can. I miss hearing your voice. The house feels empty without you.
Tyler read it, his expression careful. Neutral.
“That’s...” he started.
“I know.” Stella shoved the phone back in her pocket. “She’s not wrong. The house probably does feel empty. The twins are five—they’re a lot, but they’re not exactly conversation. And David works constantly. She’s probably lonely.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to?—”
“I know. I know it doesn’t mean I have to go back. But it makes it harder.” She looked at him. “What do I even say? ‘Sorry, Mum, I know you spent sixteen years raising me, but I’ve decided I’d rather live with the dad who showed up twice a year’?”
