Of Stone and Sky

by Charissa Stastny

  We stared at each other, and I couldn’t guess whether he hated my guts or wanted to kiss me again. Both, maybe. His kisses hadn’t meant anything. They’d just been a guy’s reaction to a warm-blooded female in the same room.

  “Would you truly go so far as to marry me?”

  I squirmed beneath his gaze. “I like Gramps.”

  “He likes you, too.” He walked over to the couch, putting distance between us. “This could work. We marry, give Gramps his wish, secure Wilder’s money, and everyone’s happy.”

  Except me, but I kept my mouth shut. Caring for and kissing Lincoln McConnell had to be the stupidest thing I’d ever gone and done.

  “This could work.”

  “You already said that. The marriage would be in name only, right? No big deal.”

  “Yeah.” He chewed those luscious lips I yearned to taste again. “Sorry for kissing you. I won’t do it again.” He watched me carefully. “Unless you want me to.”

  Was that a trick question? Of course, I wanted him to. But I wouldn’t throw my self-respect at his feet again. He obviously didn’t know what he wanted. And I refused to be a passing fling.

  “I’m willing to marry you and annul our vows later,” I said. “On one condition.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”

  “You come clean about what happened with your ex.”

  Air whooshed slowly from his lungs, sinking my hopes. He wouldn’t tell me. Why had I thought he would?

  “The rumors going around the office are that you hide a dark side,” I said. “They believe you beat your ex and killed your unborn child.”

  “Do you believe that?” He sounded angry.

  “At first, I did. You gave her almost everything in the divorce. The news articles said you must’ve paid her well to buy her silence. But now, I know you’re a good man. Grumpy at times, but you’d never hurt a woman.”

  He closed his eyes. “I did hurt her.”

  I gulped. What?

  He sighed. “It was summer of 2020. I left the office late and got caught in a protest downtown that turned violent. Before I could back up and get away, my rear window got busted out by some crazies. I was stressed, not thinking straight by the time I made it home and found Angeline drunk out of her mind.”

  He stared at the floor, and horrible scenes filled my mind of him pounding on his wife as she screamed for mercy.

  “She was pregnant,” he continued. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole. I was just so pissed that our child might be damaged from the alcohol she’d consumed. We hadn’t gotten along for a while, so our arguing wasn’t anything new. But this time she seemed hellbent on hurting me—said the baby wasn’t mine. I...” He leaned over his knees. “I slapped her. Hard enough to leave a handprint on her face.”

  “So you did beat her?”

  “No!” he cried, shaking his head. “I mean, I slapped her. But then I left for the nearest bar to cool off. I was furious at her but angrier at myself for losing control. There was no excuse for hitting her, even if she had betrayed me. After two drinks, I headed home to apologize. There were cops and an ambulance there. I freaked, worried that she’d hurt herself. She came out, bleeding and screaming for the police to keep me away from her. Two cops pushed me against my car and frisked me. I asked who had hurt her, but they told me I had the right to remain silent.”

  “She lied?”

  His jaw clenched. “Lying was second nature to her. For our whole marriage, she accused me of everything you can imagine—not caring for her, lying, cheating, stealing, sabotaging EcoCore to keep her from profiting from it. I was so wrapped up in her constant drama that I couldn’t see straight. Even as I was taken to jail, I doubted my innocence. She was a convincing gaslighter. I didn’t think I’d done more than slap her, but her last words haunted me: ‘He killed my baby!’”

  “Oh, no.”

  He grimaced. “I spent that night and the next day in jail, wondering if our baby had made it, wondering if I’d battered my wife as she’d accused. I couldn’t call my dad. I knew he’d take her side. I was too ashamed to call Gramps. I used my one phone call to ask Joe to bail me out. He held me together as Angeline continued to play with my mind to get everything in the divorce settlement.”

  “Why did you give her everything?”

  “She threatened to press charges if I didn’t. Joe was furious at me for capitulating. It made me look guilty as hell and almost ruined EcoCore. But I just wanted her out of my life.”

  He stared off at nothing. “Joe and I worked our butts off to save EcoCore. The SmartGlass I’d postponed due to COVID took off last year. That’s why Angeline’s coming after me now. She received eight million in the divorce settlement, almost all my liquid assets. But SmartGlass put EcoCore’s net worth at over eighty million, and stocks keep rising. That’s why she’s claiming it was her brainchild.”

  “What a ditch.”

  He pursed his lips. “Joe warned me she was no good. I wish I’d listened.”

  “It’s easy to see what you want in the moment. But why haven’t you been honest with your family? They deserve the truth.”

  “I just want to forget that period of my life and move on. Deep down, I feel I deserve what happened. I did slap my wife.” His hands fisted. “I might not have beat her, but I wanted to. I wanted to punish her for cheating on me. I wanted to punish her for hurting our baby. That’s why I ran away after I hit her.”

  His story made me sad. “You screwed up, but you’re still a good man.”

  He stood and walked to the bathroom. “I don’t feel like one anymore,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear.

  25

  Lincoln

  Gemma sighed in her sleep. I’d been awake for a while, watching her and waiting for her to do it again. Was she having erotic dreams, like me? I couldn’t stop reliving that kiss last night. Although, I should. It’d been a bit of fun between us, that’s all. A stress reliever we’d both needed. Gemma didn’t like me that way. She kept making that clear by emphasizing how our marriage would be business only.

  A knock made me bolt up on the couch.

  “Lincoln, honey. Gemma. I have breakfast. Are you decent?”

  “Just a sec, Mom.” I kicked my blanket and pillow under the bed as Gemma sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry,” I whispered, climbing under the covers beside her. “Mom’s always had a thing for breakfast in bed. You okay if I put my arm around you?”

  She rolled her eyes as I draped an arm over her shoulders. “Come in, Lucy,” she called, leaning into my bare chest.

  Mom walked in with a tray. She’d probably been up for hours, baking, frying, and blending.

  “You should sleep in, Mom. Enjoy your vacation.” And not bother us.

  “I want to spoil you while I can.” She walked to Gemma’s side. “Hopefully, when you’re married, you can get this guy to visit his mom.”

  Only if Dad wasn’t around.

  Gemma leaned in more, and I couldn’t breathe. I doubted she was conscious of what she was doing, but I was hyper-aware of every one of her curves, especially the ones releasing gentle friction against my upper body.

  “I’ll do my best, Mom.”

  I whipped my head around to see if Gemma had meant to call her that. She smiled at Mom, who seemed ready to cry with happiness.

  “This all looks delicious,” Gemma said. “Thanks for cooking for us.” She picked up a fork and dug into her eggs.

  Mom appeared pleased, so I dug in as well, though I hungered for other things, like Gemma’s hot body. I was experiencing dry mouth, rapid heartbeat, and sizzling loin action by the time Mom bustled out of the room.

  When the door clicked shut and we were alone, I shoved the tray onto Gemma’s lap and jumped out of bed, keeping my back to her so she wouldn’t see what she’d done to me.

  “Sorry about that. Mom has the worst timing ever.” I scurried into the bathroom, cursing the lack of doors. I hoped Gemma’s sense of modesty kept her from pee
king because I needed an icy shower. ASAP.

  26

  Saemira

  Age 14 – Fushë Krujë, Albania

  PRETENSE: make-believe, professed rather than real intention.

  The abandoned warehouse Engjell had discovered made the best clubhouse. He could pick the lock, and they could hang out there after lessons with Baba and not be disturbed by stray dogs or street bullies. After being kicked out of Mr. Shehu’s school, Saemira had become Baba’s student, same as Engjell. She’d thought often of Esad’s betrayal and had a new theory for what had happened as a child. Duke must’ve planted the amulet in her pocket all those years ago, just as Esad had planted his money in her backpack. Both were wicked to their cores.

  “I have a surprise for you.” Engjell handed her a gift, snapping her out of her head.

  “What is it?” She tore the newsprint off the box.

  “A late birthday present.”

  “Wow.” She held a strand of green gems up to the light filtering through a broken window.

  “Emeralds. Like your eyes. Not real ones. I can’t afford those. But they’re—”

  “Beautiful.” She turned her back to him. “Help me put it on.”

  His fingers clasped the chain as she studied the glittering jewels. “You didn’t steal it, did you?”

  “No. I did chores for your baba. That’s why it’s late. I didn’t have all the money on your birthday.”

  “This is so nice. Thank you.”

  He chewed his puffy lips. “Did you hear that Sindi’s been promised to Betim? They’ll marry next year when Sindi turns fourteen and Betim is sixteen.”

  “Wow.” She’d played with Sindi a few times.

  “I’m as old as Betim. You’re Sindi’s age. That means we could marry now.”

  What? She took a step back from him. He’d teased about being her true love, but she hadn’t thought he was serious. “You’ve never even kissed me. You can’t know you want to marry me.”

  “I want to kiss you.” His dancing eyes betrayed nerves as he closed the distance between them.

  She shook her head. “You don’t want to kiss me. I’m a whore.”

  “What?”

  She touched the pretty necklace. “I make boys do bad things. Like Esad. I only meant to kiss him, but he wanted more. And at first, I did, too.” She hung her head. “I’m not a good girl.”

  “Did you willingly spread your legs for Esad?”

  “What?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know what whores do.”

  “They do naughty things with men, with their bodies.”

  “What kind of naughty things?”

  She shrugged. “Kissing. Touching.”

  He laughed. “You know nothing.”

  She put hands on her hips. “I do, too.” Engjell always thought he knew more than her.

  His face distorted with laughter. “Do you want to know what whores do?”

  She nodded, and Engjell pulled her close and began whispering the specifics of whoredom.

  “No,” she gasped. “They really do that? For money? Why?”

  “Men like it.”

  “Your mom?” She grimaced. “Did she do those things?”

  “I guess.”

  She shuddered.

  “You see? You aren’t a whore.”

  “But I asked Esad to teach me how to kiss.”

  He laughed. “Men don’t pay whores to kiss them. They pay for the other stuff, between their legs.”

  “Ew.” That sounded nasty.

  “I can teach you how to kiss since Esad failed.”

  “How do you know how?” She couldn’t imagine girls lining up to kiss her scarred friend.

  “TV.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t have one of those. Baba wanted her to learn with books.

  “Let me kiss you.”

  She shuddered. Kissing Esad had been nasty. But Engjell was her friend. Maybe kissing him would be better.

  “Okay. What do I do?”

  “Close your eyes and open your mouth. I’ll do the rest.”

  That sounded easy. She shut her eyes. “Ready.” Maybe he’d hate it, too.

  Engjell held her face and covered her mouth with his. She shuddered when he parted her closed lips with his slimy tongue, as Esad had. His breath reeked of garlic.

  He pulled back. “The people in movies put their hands all over each other.”

  Maybe that would distract her from the rest of the disgusting act.

  She shut her eyes and let him kiss her again, wondering why people liked this. She gasped when his hands moved over the front of her blouse. She opened her eyes to find him smiling. He didn’t pull his hands away.

  “Move your tongue around in my mouth. Touch me, too.”

  She shivered. “Where?”

  “Anywhere.”

  She closed her eyes again, wondering if she was abnormal. Most girls liked kissing. That’s all they’d talked about at Mr. Shehu’s school. Engjell moved his hands into her hair and pulled her hands around to his buttocks.

  “Squeeze me.”

  She did, and he seemed to like it. She stepped back, hoping that’d been long enough.

  “We need to get home.” Kissing was gross.

  Engjell took her hand and they crept out the back door. He relocked the building before walking her home. They didn’t speak. Usually, she talked nonstop but kissing had changed things between them.

  At her house, Engjell tugged her through the gate and into the backyard.

  “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

  She shrugged, wishing she didn’t have to.

  He pulled her close. She clenched her eyes and opened her mouth for him. His hands dropped to her buttocks, and the place between her legs reacted like fire as he rubbed against her.

  “Saemira!”

  She jerked away from Engjell as Baba spoke behind them.

  “Engjell! What are you doing?”

  Her friend’s face turned red but he straightened his shoulders and met Baba’s gaze. “I want to marry Saemira.”

  Baba grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side. “You will do no such thing. You will not even speak of it.” The hardness in his voice shocked her. Baba liked Engjell. “Marrying at such a young age is foolish.”

  “But Sindi and Betim are promised to each other. They’re younger than us.”

  “That’s a terrible tradition which needs to change.” Baba pointed. “Don’t kiss or touch my daughter again. Promise me, Engjell.”

  Engjell frowned. “But Mr. Nikolla—“

  “Promise me, or I’ll forbid you from hanging around her.”

  Engjell looked sad when he turned to her.

  “Make the promise,” she said. “I don’t want to marry you. You’re like my brother.”

  His shoulders slumped. “Fine. I promise.”

  Baba still looked upset. “Saemira will not marry for many years. She’ll get a higher education before she considers settling down and having babies. You should set your sights on an education as well. You have a bright mind. When you’re grown and have a job, you can consider taking a wife. When you’re a man, not a boy.”

  Engjell nodded.

  “Go home,” Baba said. “I’m not happy with you.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Nikolla.”

  “Show you’re sorry by treating my daughter with respect. Don’t take advantage of her innocence again.”

  Engjell left. Baba tugged Saemira to the bench by the back wall. “Come, bijë. It’s time I told you a story.”

  Whew. She’d worried he might send her to bed without supper, but he must not be too upset if he wanted to tell her a story.

  He wrapped an arm around her. “This story is your mama’s. Did you know she was a child bride before I met her?”

  “Really?”

  “It’s not something she likes to talk about. Her people promised her to a boy named Bajram at your age. He was sixteen. Mama was with child before her fifteenth birthday. She lost the
child and four more babies. Each time she failed to carry a pregnancy, her husband beat her.”

  “He hit her?”

  “He was a scared boy without a job. He had no idea how to care for a wife.”

  She clenched her hands. “I hate him.”

  “Hate does no good, bijé. Bajram wasn’t bad. He was young. He’d never learned how to be a man. It didn’t help that tensions were running high between ethnic Albanians and Serbs in Kosovo. Being Roma, they were despised by both sides. One night, they were driven out of their home by a mob of Serbs. Bajram was shot, trying to protect Mama from bad men.”

  “He tried to protect her?”

  “In his own way, he loved Mama. How could he not? The men hurt your mama and left her for dead. When she regained consciousness, she fled across the border with other refugees.”

  “Poor Mama.” She laid her head against his chest.

  He caressed her hair. “I’d come here a few months earlier with the Red Cross to help the Roma and other refugees. That’s how I met Mama. She carried water from the river, and I mistook her for an angel.”

  Saemira smiled. Mama had told her this part of their story.

  He cupped her chin. “I’d never wish your mama’s sufferings on any girl. Especially you, my precious daughter.” He caressed her cheek. “What Engjell did today was wrong. He should not have kissed or touched you that way.”

  “I didn’t like kissing him. It was gross.” She frowned. “Is something wrong with me? I didn’t like when Esad kissed me either.”

  Baba growled. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Kissing is gross when done with the wrong person for the wrong reasons. But it’s wondrous when done with someone you truly love.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt Engjell’s feelings.”

  “What about your own? Shouldn’t Engjell have worried about your feelings, not just his?”

  “But everyone bullies him.”

  “So, you let him bully you into a kiss?”

  She frowned.

  He squeezed her shoulders. “Your heart is yours to give to one special person. Don’t pretend to love someone, even a friend. That’s wrong. A lie.”