“I’m not sure you do,” she says. “Besides, you’re letting him believe that he’s helping keep you from deportation.”
I flap my arms at my sides. “What, Willow? What do you want me to do, live on your couch forever? Isn’t Jerry waiting to move in?” Willow’s long-term boyfriend is currently staying at his grandma’s house just waiting for me to get a life and move on. We both know it. “Should I call my mother right now and break her heart with one hit of bad news after another? She will never believe in me if I tell her how I’ve failed now.” Why should she? I’m not sure I believe in myself. “She would hire movers to pack me up and move me to Canada this very day. So, see? Romanissaving me from being deported!” I rock on my heels, firmly placing my hands on my hips.
Willow stares at me, then rolls her head to the side. “But marriage?” she says, unconvinced. “It’s marriage, Stella. Promised vows. Holy priest.”
My pulse races with her words. I shake my head. “No. It doesn’t count if it isn’t real for either of us. It’s a non-counting marriage.”
“I don’t think that’s a term.”
“It is,” I say.
“It’s not.”
“Well, it is now.” I stand straight, hands on hips. “Besides, there will be no priest. It’ll be a judge or someone extremely unholy, like your uncle that got certified on theinternet.”
Willow sucks in an offended breath. “Uncle Benji is holy. He’s great.”
“Or—” I point to her. “It could be you!”
“It will most definitelynotbe me,” Willow says. “Stell, marriage?”
I shrug.
“To save face?” she says, her tone low and sorrowful. “To give your parents peace of mind? That isn’t your job?—”
“And to help Roman,” I say. “You keep forgetting that part.”
“Right—you’re making him happy too. What about you? What about your work?—”
“I don’t even know if I want to do pottery anymore.”
Willow gasps.
“I just need some time. I can’t do anything right lately.”
“Stop with the doubt. You’re so busy doubting yourself, you can’t see how wonderful you are.” She reaches out a hand and shakes my shoulder.
I give her a small smile, thankful for her friendship, for her goodness. Placing my hand over hers, I squeeze her fingers. “I love you, Will. Thanks for letting me crash here.”
“You have to leavetoday?” she whines.
“Hello?Jerry.” I wrap one arm around her waist, hugging her to my side. “I know you love me, Willow. I also know you don’t want me on your couch any longer.”
“It’s not that,” she moans.
I nod and zip up my suitcase of PJs and unused microwave popcorn.
“I’m worried about you.”
Willow is a good, wise friend attempting to make me rethink this decision. But marrying Roman might be the only thing I’ve got going for me.Stella isn’t a big fat failure,Mother. She’s been secretly dating Roman Graves, the boy you loved and adored, and now they are big-time hitched.
“Please, Will, you’ve let me stay too long as it is. I appreciate you. Jerry’s put his plans on hold long enough.” I rest my head on her shoulder. “Let me go.”
Willow steps back, forcing me to look at her. She rolls her eyes at my obnoxious bout of sentimentality. “This feels like trouble.”
“But notyourtrouble. As long as you don’t turn my well-intending …fiancéinto the authorities for something he hasn’t actually done, we’ll be fine.”
“Are you listening to yourself? Does any of that actually make sense to you?”
