“Very.” But I’d be happier if she’d touch me again.
“Tell me about this plan.”
“I think we should drink to your recentproblemsand then toss them away, with a promise to no longer dwell on them.”
“Recent—but I don’t smell anymore!” she blurts. “I don’t, do I? Sometimes, I’m afraid I’m just getting used to it.”
“Not that problem. You once again smell like a garden, Stella. I’m talking about your other problems.” I grip the steering wheel, hoping this works. Hoping my Stella can get some confidence back.
Stella smirks, making me glance at her once more. “You think I smell like a garden?”
“No.” I laugh, uneasy and nervous. “Maybe. I’ve noticed a floral scent around you at times. Do you agree to my plan or not?”
She pulls in a breath through her nose before exhaling. “I don’t know. Drink to my problems? Like ‘cheers’?”
“Like ‘so long.’”
“I don’t know, Roman. My hard stuff is fully leaded Coke. I get a little hyped up with all the sugar. I’m not sure adding alcohol is a great idea.”
“One sip to each trouble. Whatever you want to drink. Then, we break the glass to see it into the next life.”
She’s quiet for a minute. “That doesn’t sound terrible.”
“It’ll be fun. And I read somewhere that intentional physical acts help a person move on. It’s a tangible thing associated with emotional closure.” I did read it—in one of those self-help books Willow is always sending Stella.
“Hmm.” She thinks. “Okay, I’m in.”
Thirty-Three
Fran sidles upnext to me on this barstool where I sit away from our group. It’s larger than I thought it would be. Zev, Callum, the girls, but also Lucca and his date.
Her shoulder brushes mine. “We’re going to get Rosalie kissed tonight. Are you in?”
“Umm …” I peer at the bartender. “One Coke,” I say. “Fully leaded.”
The man behind the bar pauses with my request.
“She doesn’t want diet,” Fran explains. Then, turning back to me, she asks, “Are you in? It’s time.”
“I don’t quite understand.”
She peeks behind us to where Roman, Rosalie, Zev, Callum, Lucca, and Kelli are playing pool. At least, I think Lucca’s date is named Kelli—he didn’t sound certain when he told Roman. “She and Zev have been slowly”—she groans, deflating with the noise—“painfully slowly seeing one another. But Rose was burned?—”
“Right. Not by the vampire,” I say, remembering how shereferred to Rosalie’s ex.
“Yes. Robert Pattinson. The engineer. That guy did her so wrong,” she huffs, smacking one hand to the bar top. “Anyway, Zev’s all in. He’s a complete sweetheart. Plus, he’s crazy about her. Rosalie feels the same. But she isn’t quite ready to admit it. She needs a shove.”
“A shove?” I pick up my cola and take one swig—I’m going to need it tonight.
“A shove.” She nibbles on her lip, thinking. “Possibly a heave.”
“We’re heaving Rosalie?”
“We’re heaving her into a kiss with Zev. It’s going to be fun.” With both hands on my arm, she shakes me.
“Who’s kissing who?” a voice says just behind us.
Lucca Cruz.
