Me: Things Stella Everly is good at:
Finding the right Christmas gifts
Falling in ice skates
Eating more pancakes than a professional athlete
Being honest (even if it takes some time)
Teaching someone to use the pottery wheel
Planning a piece
Impulsively creating a piece
There’s more. That’s what I’ve got today. Love you, Will.
Willow: Killer dress, Stell. Merry Christmas. Also—Stella Everly is a fabulous friend.
Yes, yes I am.
Our ride is quiet to the church. I text Willow a few more times and Roman says—nothing. Until he parks. “Are you mad at me?”
I peer at my sweet husband and honestly answer, “I’m not sure I could ever be mad at you, Roman.” I tilt my head. “Let’s go watch our friends get married.”
The ground glistens—as if Fran ordered and paid for it. The trees around the church are covered in frost and ice, giving the entire space a winter wonderland feel.
Roman sets one hand on my arm. “Stella, I feel like I need to say something?—"
“You don’t owe me anything,” I say, opening the door and stepping outside. We meet at the front of the vehicle. Roman offers his arm, keeping me from slipping in myheels. “Roman, thank you for helping me. For being there for me. You’ve been such a good friend. I never meant to impose?—”
“No one ever said you imposed. I told you I wanted to try?—"
“You did.” I smile at him. “But we both know you didn’t sign up for,” I peer up at the church in front of us, “forever.” I hold back my tears and start toward the steps of the church. “And long distance,” I sigh. “It’s hard.”
“Stella,” he growls.
But my heart is already hurting. I’ll survive. I have survived. Wasn’t that the point of telling my mother all of my failures? I failed. I lied. I hurt both mom and me. And we both survived.
I’m bound to fail and survive again.
“Roman! Stella!” Ebony Jacobson stands next to her husband, Roman’s coach, waving from the doors of the church. “You’re here!”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” I say—realizing as I lose Roman, I’m losing Fran, Rosalie, and the Red Tails. We may have been new friends, but they still meant something to me.
“Of course not,” Roman says beside me.
Jet slaps a hand to Roman’s back, pulling him in for a quick hug, and then we’re inside.
An usher leads us to our seats, as we walk, I put on a brave face, waving to Roman’s team and friends.
My throat clenches and I sit on the edge of my seat, watching as the ceremony begins. Rosalie and Zev walk down the aisle. The wedding march sounds, and we stand for Fran.
She’s beautiful and Callum is full of joy and tears. He watches her like no one else is in the room.
This is how it should be. Dating, falling, loving,thenwedding. This is the beginnings of a marriage. This is right.
One tear falls and I swat it away with the back of my hand.
