by Celeste, B.
Another curse slipped past my lips as I read through the emails crammed into my inbox from over the weekend. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known they were there considering I’d logged on one too many times, even after Friday night. I’d just tried taking advice a long time ago from somebody who knew what he was talking about.
“Work can’t be everything, Theo.”
Anthony made the choice to leave work behind after hours because he had a life to go home to. Even when Mariska was in mine, it was never a clear decision I got to make. While she was with her girlfriends, the studio, and who knew where else, I was pulling overtime to sort through the mess Interactive Marketing had surrounding it when stock nosedived, or investors dropped for one reason or another. My money was tied up in IM because nobody else’s was, so I saw no point in listening to him when he told me to go home to my wife when the weekend came around.
Blowing out a breath, I noted the numbers on the second monitor screen and realized the stress wasn’t worth my time. We were doing fine, better than. So, I got through the emails that mattered and ignored the rest, making a note for Abigail, the secretary, to finish going through non-essentials another time when she wasn’t busy doing paperwork.
When my phone rang as I logged off for the day, I was tempted to ignore the name across the screen but thought better of it. It wasn’t often that Sophie Vasquez called me, but it was always interesting when it happened.
“To what do I owe this pleasure,” I greeted, voice as leveled as it could be. Once upon a time I had no problem with Sophie besides the slight irritation over how she treated Della like a child no matter how old she was. I’d gotten over it because I knew Della could handle herself, and she usually did. There were times, though, when Sophie pushed too far, and I couldn’t help but want to rip into her knowing her niece wouldn’t.
That, however, wasn’t the reason I regarded her with caution. When things got rocky with Mariska, she was the first to take note. I wasn’t surprised when she’d shown up at my office and closed the door behind her. What had taken me off guard was how easy it was for her to forget she had a husband when she’d locked the door and propositioned me as if cheating were the answer for her unhappiness.
“Cut the pleasantries,” was her response. It’d taken one firm rejection that day for her to remember her place. Sophie wasn’t the kind of woman who enjoyed being refused more than once considering her pride was what she put before anything else. Including family, given the circumstance of the call. “Adele listens to you, so you need to help me.”
My laugh was as dry as my tone. “Do I, now? Why would I help you?”
“You’ve always cared for her.” Shoulders stiffening as I sat up in my chair, I swiped at my freshly shaven jaw and waited for her to continue without saying a word. “Don’t try to pretend otherwise, you’ve been protective since day one. Even Anthony told me he saw how you were there for her. That means something.”
“And that matters how?”
“She cares about what you think.”
My teeth ground together. “Is this about her dancing? She seemed clear on her answer. You need to—”
“Adele is throwing her life away because she’s afraid. You and I both know that her mother would have wanted her to keep going.”
I stood, impatient with this conversation and wanting it to end. “Not at the cost of her life. I know you were never a fan of Elizabeth, but you can’t take that out on Adele.” The beef she had with her brother’s wife was beyond me. Elizabeth was a kind woman who loved Anthony and Adele as much as he loved them. They were a perfect fit in every way, so I couldn’t figure out why Sophie disapproved so much. It’d remain a mystery because I couldn’t find myself caring enough to ask.
“I am doing no such thing.”
“You’re trying to make sure Della doesn’t make the same mistakes you and your brother did.” It was clear as day whether she confirmed it or not. “If there’s one thing you’re right about, Sophie, it’s that she listens to me. So, if I tell her about what happened at my office when you visited me, I’m sure she’d look at you much differently than she does now.”
Her silence was telling. I wasn’t going to tell her that I’d caught Della dancing at the warehouse, or that I suspected she danced more often than she would admit. It wasn’t anybody’s business but Della’s, especially where Sophie was concerned.
I kept going, not willing to allow Sophie to get a word in edge wise until my point was made clear between us. “She would also listen to my opinion that she dances only if she were ever ready to, but never for anybody else. I’m sure that wouldn’t go over well with you, would it? You’d rather force her hand.”
“You would really risk her future like that? She was given the lead role in Swan Lake and had a fair shot at being part of the international competition and winning. Don’t act like you’re not disappointed she gave up. I saw it in your eyes when she announced she wasn’t going back.”
Had I been disappointed? Yes. But only because Della felt connected to her mother through ballet. Her father and I wanted what was best for her, and she was killing herself slowly by being part of that world. It seemed like the easiest choice to support after what the media had driven her to.
“I believe this conversation is over,” I all but spit, about to hang up when she stopped me.
“You can think badly of me all you want. Half of what you already assume is most likely true, but I loved my brother dearly. I may not agree with his choices in a wife, but I’ve always looked up to him and loved Della like a daughter.” Her words made little sense to me, especially because Sophie was not a maternal figure. She’d stepped in when time allowed and I respected her for it, but she was no mother to Della even if she tried to be.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Her sigh was light but burdened. “I have made many decisions in my life that I’m sure my brother didn’t approve of as well, but the one I never did was trying to be part of Adele’s life. She’s pulling away and I don’t want to lose her too. We both know Andrew is hardly around. Seeing her is what I look forward to.”
“It doesn’t feel good, does it?”
There was a pause. “What?”
“Being coerced into doing something that leaves you miserable,” I stated casually. She was roped into her marriage because of Andrew Vasquez’s status as top District Attorney. He came from old money that he inherited and was set for life. It was clear to anybody who saw them that they regretted the decision. He spent more time with his mistress across the city than he did with her, probably with a kid or two if rumors were true. Did I pity her? No. She walked in a willing participant and was trying to put Adele in the same situation.
“Remind me, Sophie, how is Andrew? Still warming his secretary’s pussy or is it his law partner he spends his nights with these days?”
It was a low blow and I knew it, but it got the desired response. “Fuck you, Theodore. You’re no better off considering Mariska found somebody who wasn’t you to share her body with. Just because it was after your separation doesn’t mean the desire wasn’t there before it was made final. What does that say about you? So, excuse me for being stupid enough to believe we could help each other. Or that you’d, at the very least, be willing to help the girl you say you care about.”
My chuckle was low and dark, building as my head shook at her ruse. “You’re lucky, Sophie. Adele is still in your life in some form despite the bullshit you spew at her. I’d suggest stopping while you’re ahead before you lose her for good. She won’t need my help making that decision if you keep it up.”
Her breathing halts for a split second.
“And Sophie?”
“What, Theo?”
“Don’t waste my time with your false concern. You never wanted to help me, you simply wanted to claim what you couldn’t have to get back at your husband. I’m no pawn.”
Before she replied, I hung up and blew out an irritated breath. Who the fuck did she think she was? She was
no more than a sad middle-aged housewife who threw away any future picked out for her by someone else. I’d raise hell if anybody pushed that on Della. She deserved more. Anthony knew it. Elizabeth knew it. Everyone but Sophie, who did whatever she pleased despite her brother’s wishes.
I dropped back into my chair. “I need a fucking smoke.”
I was staring at the desk when I heard, “I thought you were going to quit.” Without even looking up I knew who the feather-light voice belonged to.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” As soon as I looked up, I took in her outfit and fought back a smile. Her white shorts were a little too short on her long legs, but they didn’t cling to her smooth skin. They were high-waisted like she preferred wearing and loose, with a striped shirt tucked into them and an oversized white blazer over top, left unbuttoned. She always dressed to impress, which made her parents happy. I knew when she wasn’t out, she was in paint-stained overalls, pajamas with ridiculous fucking pictures on them, or workout pants with knee-high socks featuring obnoxious patterns.
Della was always eccentric in her style preferences when she had nobody to dazzle, and that was what impressed me most about her.
She walked in, the heels of her shoes clicking against the floor as she stopped in front of my desk. “It’s almost five thirty. I don’t have anywhere to be since…”
Since she stopped dancing. I knew that. It wasn’t like she’d stopped recently—it’d been years. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to see her lingering when she was normally elsewhere doing something that she loved a long time ago.
Her throat cleared. “I was going to head back to my place and work on some projects a little, but I figured you’d still be here.”
While my building was on her way home from campus, it didn’t make sense why she’d come. “Something I can do for you?”
Her lips twitched, tilting downward like the question hurt her. I wasn’t trying to play coy, or even play it off, but I was no stranger to the way her eyes lingered on me. It was the same way mine did on her, I was just better at hiding it. “I was checking in, I guess. I…” I wanted to kick myself knowing she was hesitating because I made her feel unwelcome. She brushed it off. “Can I make you dinner?”
I blinked. “Come again?”
She stood tall, nodding once. Her hair was pulled back in some kind of twisted updo, but a thick strand fell loose and caressed her cheek. The same one that was tinted pink at her own words as she waited for my response. “I want to make you dinner. I have something in mind that I think you’d like. You can’t go wrong with a homecooked meal, right?”
The chair creaked under my weight as I leaned back with my hands folded on my stomach. “Depends what it is.” That was a lie. I’d be happy with anything that I didn’t have to take out of a container, especially if she were the one cooking it.
It wouldn’t be the first time she made me food. There were times in the past I let her experiment on me with meals she wanted to create that her father wouldn’t eat. He’d either be too busy or too tired by the time he’d gotten home. There were days when she’d admitted that she hadn’t even bothered making more than necessary because it just went to waste.
“Chicken alfredo with garlic bread.”
My stomach reacted instantly, but it wasn’t loud enough for her to know I was all in. Instead, I studied her for a moment until she shifted in uncertainty before giving her a light smile. “I need to lock up since Abigail left. Did you take a cab here?”
“Uber.”
“What did I tell you about those?”
Her blue eyes rolled, lined with thick black lashes, and a brightness in them that always made her look happy even when she wasn’t. “Like taxis are any better? Plus, they’re practically the same thing.”
I couldn’t argue with her, but that didn’t stop my deadpanned expression from crossing my features. “You have a driver.”
“That I hate using,” she replied instantly.
“You like Dallas.”
“Yes, I do like Dallas.” Her agreement was light, making my lips waver upward over her gentleness. She liked everybody, that was the problem. “But that doesn’t mean I like using his services when I’m capable of getting myself places other ways. Not to mention, Dallas’s wife just had a baby and it wouldn’t be fair for me to call him away while he enjoys Cody.”
“Cody?”
“The baby.”
“Ah.” I flattened my palm against my dress shirt, today’s choice charcoal gray that hid a stain I’d accidently gotten on it during lunch, before grabbing my jacket from where it hung by the door. “I still don’t want you using Uber.”
“You’re being silly.”
“I’m being practical.” I wasn’t and we both knew it, but I liked our banter. “You could call me if necessary.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
And surprise you did, little Della. But capturing the sight of her bare thighs and the way they were shaped from years of dance, even after her extensive weight loss, made me realize just how much I needed to stop calling her that. I rarely did it aloud anymore because it felt inappropriate, like an insult somehow. Adele was no longer the little girl who begged to dance while standing on my shoes, but a grown woman capable of pulling any man to the floor and demanding they dance with her. That didn’t stop me from dancing with her over the weekend, relishing in an old memory that calmed us both down, when I found her moving by herself. I wanted to give her peace of mind, something to hold onto that would never change. We’d always have the past.
Not only that, I supposed, but words could be triggering for her. I’d done the research after her official diagnosis, even asking a therapist who’d specialized in eating disorders what I could do to help because I was desperate to be somebody she could lean on if she needed. Della, no matter what she believed, didn’t need anybody. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try avoiding terms or affirmations that put her in the place she fought a long time to get out of.
“You’re doing it again. Being all overprotective for no reason. I told you last time we talked about this that I would be fine. Look, I haven’t been kidnapped yet.”
I eyed her. “You do realize you just jinxed yourself, right? Your father will haunt me when news breaks that former Governor Saint James’s daughter went missing after hailing a taxi all on her lonesome.”
I didn’t miss the way her lips pressed together, and eyes dulled at the statement, causing me to rethink what I’d said. Sighing, I walked over and waited for her to look at me. The tips of our shoes touched we were so close, and I saw the pink painted on her toenails from where they peeked out the front of her heels. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like people referring to you like that. It just slipped out.”
She hesitated for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet mine, looking at me through her lashes. “It’s stupid, right? He was my father and I loved him so much. It shouldn’t irritate me when people call me that.”
“But you’re your own person. I get it.” I didn’t think Anthony ever saw how much Della would flinch whenever she was asked questions about him or addressed by anything except her name. It was always as Governor Saint James’s daughter, or some other association that made her less of an individual. I understood why it ate at her. “You’ll always be Della to me,” I whispered despite my better judgement. My fingers itched to reach out and cup her jaw, to brush the full bottom lip of hers, but I forced them to remain by my sides.
“Your little Della, you mean,” she teased, her eyes lighting back up to their natural color.
Slowly, I shook my head. “Not anymore.” She frowned at that, but I didn’t let her get into her head to dissect it because I knew whatever conclusion she’d come up with wouldn’t be a good one. “You’re too old for that now. It would be an injustice to the woman you’ve become, to your character.”
Her face flushed, the pink in her cheeks deepening and making me wan
t to touch her that much more, to feel the heat blossoming beneath my fingertips. “You’re too nice to me.”
“I’m telling the truth. That’s all.”
She stood back first, putting distance between us that I should have done. It made me realize just how closely we stood, and I hadn’t given a shit. “So, chicken alfredo?”
Not able to stop the amused laugh from bursting past my pressed lips, I buttoned my suit jacket and shook my head. “I’d never say no to you, Della.”
She gave me a long look and I realized my mistake once the words were out, but it was too late to fix it. So, we let it be.
The house smelled like garlic by the time I’d made it downstairs after a quick shower and change of clothes. Della had taken off her blazer, draping it across the kitchen table as she focused on stirring something on the stove. Even with her back to me, I knew her tongue was sticking out slightly in concentration, something she’d done ever since she was little. I’d always found it cute, endearing even, because she had no idea she did it. It allowed me to hold onto something that didn’t change with her as time passed. It was always going to be something that made Della…Della.
“I can feel you staring,” she told me, looking over her shoulder with a bright smile and catching me with my own stretching my lips. I walked in, unfazed by being caught, though I should have been.
“It smells good.” I stopped beside her, looking into the large pot, a sauté pan according to her, with noodles, chicken, and white sauce mixed together.
“I’d hope so, I followed the recipe closely to make sure it came out perfect.”
I reached above her to grab a glass from the cupboard, my side brushing against her back, and felt her lean into me before realizing what she was doing. My lips twitched at her body’s reaction. It was an instinct I clung to, welcomed.
“Even if you didn’t follow it, it’d come out perfect. There’s nothing you do that is anything less.”
She froze, her hand white knuckling the wooden spoon that I wasn’t sure was mine or something she brought with her. “We both know that isn’t true.”