Stella sighs. “I need to start creating, and I need to find a steady job. But I don’t want to worry my parents. Can we give this a little time and then together let them know that we were wrong and we’re better off as friends?”
Why does that statement feel like such a bee sting?
“You’re sure you want to keep this up?” I ask, because as convinced as she is, I’m certain I’m the only one getting anything out of this deal. And that doesn’t sit well with me.
“If you can put up with me.”
“I think I can handle it,” I say. “As long as it’s what youwant.” I’ve been alone a long time. I haven’t “put up” with anyone in years. But something strange and compelling has me growing attached to Stella. We’ve pretty much argued since the day she moved in. And yet arguing with Stella might be the best time I’ve ever had. “Why couldn’t you tell me this? That first day?”
Her gaze drops. “It had been so long since we’d seen each other. And your cabin.”
I groan—she can’t do this for me.
“As much as you’re helping me, I knew you’d back out if you thought it was all for your cabin. I didn’t want you to lose this place.”
I run a hand through my hair. She’s right. I never would have married her had I thought she agreed to it all to get me this house. “This arrangement really is helping you? No more lies.” I have to ask again because I can’t quite believe that it is.
“I promise. You’ve given me a home, a workspace, and time. You kept my parents from fretting. You’ve?—”
“Okay,” I say, interrupting her. I can’t sit here and listen to her praise me.
“Okay then, we’ll stay married. For now. Until your coach forgets all about your cabin,” she says.
“Until you’re back on your feet.”
She nods, then peers past me out the back porch to the big windows that display the white outdoors. “What should we do today?”
“Well, someone told me I wasn’t allowed outside today. No messing with our snowy canvas.”
Her mouth twists, drawing my attention there, making me contemplate the feel of those lips. “You don’t have to listen.”
“I can follow orders. At least when I want to.” I shrug, standing with my empty plate. “I bought a box of lights and some plastic tree ornaments. Want to help me out with that tree?”
Her lips part into a wide grin. “Yeah. I think I can do that.”
We’ve decorated,then sat by this tree all day and into the evening. I’ve said more to Stella Everly today than I have to anyone in the last nine years. She’s talked too. And at the risk of being haunted, I am more attracted than ever to Brice’s sister.
I can’t help it, Brice.Besides, the woman is no longer a kid.
“I don’t think your parents are the way they are because they lack faith in you,” I tell her. She’s still wearing my jersey. The one that came in my Red Tail signing package. The one that stays in my drawer and rarely sees the light of day. It’s too big for her, but she looks good in number twenty-one. She shouldn’t wear anything else.
Stella stretches out her legs beneath our lit tree and leans back on her elbows. I’m glad I bought a thick rug to cover this section of the cabin’s hard floors. She peers up at the tree, and I’m waiting for a scoff, a rebuttal. I have an argument. Scott and Rebecca were always proud of their kids.
“They are the way that they are because their son left for a campus tour and never came home,” she says. “It makes me crazy, but I can’t fault them for their worry or their pain. I just really hate being the source of it.” Her head tips to the side, a hundred different shades of blonde waves fall overher shoulder. “I just want them to be happy and proud of me.”
“They are,” I say. It’s instinct.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“But the fact is, you don’t know. So, worry about yourself. What do you want to do?” I ask.
“I want to make pottery.” She peers back at the tree. “You know that girl Rosalie?”
“Zev’s Rosalie?”
“I guess. She asked if I’d teach her grandmother to use a pottery wheel.” Stella smirks. “She offered topayme.”
“Is that something you’d want to do?”
