Pressure Point (Point #2)

by Olivia Luck

  “Where is she?” I ask, a new sense of agitation flooding me.

  “Not here, apparently. You were kind of a dick; I’m not surprised that she left.”

  I feel my face cloud over, wondering if she’s right. Obviously, something upset her because Stella’s not here anymore. “I’ve got to find her.” Then I’m racing outside without a second thought to Zoe’s wellbeing. She has Miles with her now.

  Before I start the engine of my car, I dial Stella’s number. The phone rings and rings and rings.

  No answer.

  “Call Stella,” I instruct my phone through voice dial. I careen back from where I came only a little while earlier, downtown New Point. With no clue where I’m going, I drive through the few streets of downtown New Point. Stella’s phone rings again. And again. Still, she doesn’t pick up. I come to halt at an intersection when flashing lights and a ringing bell alert me to an oncoming train. I drum my fingertips on the steering wheel while I wait for it to pass.

  “Incoming call from Stella Baccino,” the robotic voice of my phone announces. I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in and accept the call.

  “Where are you?” I ask without preamble.

  At first she doesn’t speak. If it weren’t for the soft exhalations, I would think she wasn’t there. A sharp horn honks behind me, reminding me that I’m in the middle of the street. With a curse, I park in a random lot. “Stella. Talk to me.” Shit. I don’t want to snap, but I can’t help but be harsh.

  “I’m going back to the city, Blake,” she finally says. She sounds like she is in physical pain, her voice weak and cracking on the word city.

  “Baby, what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” I say without an ounce of concern for my own crackly voice and the weakness it displays.

  “You didn’t need me there, Blake.” The words are heavy with an emotion that I’m afraid to identify. “And I’m sorry to leave you, but I need to take care of myself. It hurts too much.”

  “Stella, you’re not making sense.” I’m frustrated, and I can’t hide it in my response.

  “Today was really hard for you, Blake, I get it. But I felt like you didn’t want me with you. It was like I was a stranger all over again. You were with Zoe and I was on the outside.”

  The culmination of the past three days hits me at that moment. Hard. And I’m pissed with everything. Chip Conway. SportsHour. Clinton Smith. Zoe’s boyfriend. Stella’s not supposed to piss me off. She’s supposed to make everything better, extinguish everything that stresses me out. Except now, when I need her the most. “Really, today, Stella? Of all the days, you decide to get on my case today? Of all the days that you decide to be selfish, it’s today. My God, have we not been over this? I’ll tell Zoe about us. It wasn’t the right time.”

  “There’s never going to be a good time,” Stella answers so softly that I can hardly hear her.

  “Say whatever you’re trying to say, Stella. I’m not up for games.”

  “I’m sorry.” Anguish fills her tone and a breath of remorse whispers at me. “Blake, I’m sorry it has to be today. The timing is awful, but I can’t do this anymore.”

  The world around me dims. My vision blurs for a moment. It’s a shot straight to my gut. “What does that mean?”

  “I can’t hide from Zoe.” I hear the underlying ultimatum. If I don’t tell Zoe that we’re dating then she doesn’t want to date me.

  “What don’t you understand about me bringing you to New Point? Excuse me that a lunatic with a gun went after my sister today and things didn’t go as planned. Jesus, Stella. You’re really showing your age here.”

  She gasps. The loudest sound that she’s made the entire phone call, and I know as soon as I’ve said the words that it was the wrong thing to say. Unfortunately, there’s no take backs in life and the spiteful words hang heavily in the air between us.

  “Please tell Zoe that I love her,” she finally says in a voice that reminds me of exactly how I felt a few minutes ago. Wrecked. Ragged. Broken.

  “Stella – ”

  “Listen, you’re right. Now’s not the time to have this conversation. When you get back…” This is a new side of Stella. An interrupting, unfiltered, and heartbroken version of the girl I fell for. Yes, I hear the heartbreak in her voice, but I’m hurt, too. She left me when I needed her the most.

  “Right. I’ll call you.” Like a child, I disconnect without another word.

  Fuck.

  This.

  Stella

  Two weeks. Nearly fourteen days since I last saw Blake. Days that crawl by with little sleep. Days that crawl by full of heartache. He doesn’t call. He doesn’t text. In Blake’s defense, I don’t contact him either because I’m scared of what might happen when we talk. By the way that I’m acting, you’d think that I prefer to live in a fiery purgatory, not knowing where I stand with Blake. His silence speaks volumes to me, and deep down, I know it means we’re over. Permanently.

  No more Blake. Seven years since I met a man who I thought was my perfect fit. I love him. Love. Him. I realized as the train pulled away from New Point that my heart was smashed. Irrevocably. It’s always been Blake and will always be Blake for me. And now I don’t have him. As much as I miss him, yearn for him, dream of him, crave him, I know that the relationship wasn’t working for me. I put his needs above mine. It was always about him, partly because of his choices and partly because of mine. I should have held him accountable; I should have demanded his attention.

  Should have, could have, would have. What does it matter now?

  Thankfully, there’s not much time to wallow in my heartache because it’s the busiest two weeks of my summer back at home. Violet and Max are getting married very soon, and I can thrust all of my energy into their wedding. If the nuptials of my two favorite people aren’t enough to focus on, I have the biggest presentation of my career for the Chicago Center. That means all my time is dedicated to activities that take my mind off Blake.

  There’s one piece of silver lining in all this mess. Friendship.

  “How are you feeling?” Violet nudges my shoulder then takes a hearty slurp of her iced coffee.

  “Nervous. Happy. Thankful.”

  “Took a lot of guts for Zoe to call you.”

  I hum my acknowledgment, watching a game of little leaguers on the baseball diamond ahead of us. Violet and I are sitting on a hilltop in Oz Park. The sun’s shining beautifully and has a calming effect on my mood.

  “Did she say what she wants to talk about?”

  “She said that she missed me. I didn’t make her say much more. We set up a meeting, and there are only a few more minutes ‘til I find out.”

  “Good.”

  “How are you feeling, Miss Soon-to-be Baccino?”

  Violet beams. “Nervous. Happy. Thankful.” She parrots my response and I laugh lightly. “I’m glad his parents are okay with a small wedding. One freaking week until I’m his wife and he’s my husband. Can you believe it?”

  “Of course, I can believe it. You two are meant to be together. The best couple I know.”

  Violet sighs contentedly. “We are, aren’t we?” Suddenly, her brow furrows and she shoots me an anxious expression. “Has Dominic ever mentioned anything about me?”

  My mind wanders to the night that he surprised me by coming to the family game night. He took a couple jabs at Violet, and I knew then it hurt her, but we never discussed it. “Never. Did something happen?”

  “No, no,” she answers quickly. I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “I don’t want to come between Max and Dominic. They’re brothers, you know? Sometimes I get the feeling Dom doesn’t like me and I’m a little worried about it.”

  I nod thoughtfully, not liking this development. Violet’s nothing if not Max’s dream girl. I don’t want to badmouth my cousin, Dom, either, but… “Obviously I’m no expert when it comes to relationships, but I think that you need to forget about Dominic for now. Whatever he feels toward you is
irrelevant. You’re marrying Max, not his brother.”

  With a shake of her head, Violet smiles once again. “You’re right. I’m getting married. I’m getting married—to Max!”

  The lighthearted mood dims when a shadow casts over us. Zoe looms above us, wearing a hesitant but hopeful expression.

  “Hey,” she greets us. “Violet, right?”

  I can’t help but smile slightly at that. She remembers my friend’s name. That’s a good sign, right?

  “That’s me,” Violet confirms. “Stella –”

  “I’m good, V. I’ll call you later?” I cut in quickly.

  “Definitely.” When she brushes past, Violet pauses to rest a hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “I hope you guys can work things out. She misses you.”

  That’s all it takes for my heart to swell in my chest painfully. I do miss her, terribly.

  Zoe crosses one leg in front of the other and settles down on the patch of grass next to me. “It’s all on me.” Her voice is strained with emotion, like mine would be if I spoke. “Our friendship fell apart because of me—I know that I screwed up really badly. But I’d really like us to be friends again.”

  My reaction happens automatically. I snake an arm around her shoulder and hug Zoe to my side. My best friend is back, I think with relief. It’s a while before I speak, soaking up the warm sensation. There are things that I have to tell Zoe. She needs to understand. “Don’t try to tell me the friendship totally fell apart because of you. It fell apart because of reasons out of our control. What happened to you…I just wish that you hadn’t pushed me away.”

  “I was so ashamed that I couldn’t keep it together. There were days that I didn’t want to leave my bed. It was demeaning, and I didn’t want you, or anyone, to see me struggling that badly,” she admits.

  I squeeze her gently. “I forgive you a million times over. But you have to promise me that it won’t happen again. If things get bad, I want you to come to me. Believe it or not, for a while, I blamed myself, like I wasn’t strong enough to pull you through in your time of need.”

  “Not even close. It was me all along. And I promise, no more hiding, no more pushing. I want to call you and have you visit and visit you.”

  There’s a smile in my voice when I respond. “Me, too.”

  Zoe sniffles back tears and I’m doing the same thing but blaming them on allergies. We both laugh for a minute then we’re silent, watching parents push a stroller and tug along a gleeful Golden Retriever. Well, Zoe may be watching but I’m thinking of one thing.

  Blake.

  “I’m in love with your brother,” I blurt out suddenly, lifting my head, dropping my arm from her back and turning to face Zoe in one swift motion. Anxiety and unhappiness radiate off me.

  She responds very neutrally, but I can see a spark of excitement in her eyes. “Why does saying that make you look like you just stole the last cookie from the jar?”

  My head falls forward in defeat. “I never wanted to be the friend who went after Blake. I know you felt like people used you to get close to him.”

  “When I was a kid, I thought that. Come on, Stella, you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had outside my brother. Don’t you know nothing would make me happier than to see him with someone like you?”

  I shrug, woeful and pathetic. “Thanks for saying that, but I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway. He doesn’t love me back.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she hedges.

  Curiosity gets the best of me. “Why?”

  “Whenever I mention your name, he gets that same look you have now. The what the fuck is happening to me look. The I’m drowning in a sea of emotion that I don’t understand look. The hopelessly devoted look.”

  For a second, it makes me smile, but then the melancholy comes back. “Whatever feelings he has for me, he refuses to admit them.”

  “Blake spent a large chunk of his life taking care of me. I don’t need to tell you how he became a father without impregnating anyone. I’m just saying that he needs someone to take care of him. And you are the exactly right, nurturing, loving woman to do that.”

  “Tell him that,” I murmur.

  Zoe fishes an envelope out from the depths of her purse. “There’s something I want to give you.” She eyes the eggshell-colored paper cautiously. “Read it whenever you want. That is if you want to read it at all. When I told my therapist how much I wanted your forgiveness, she suggested that I write you a letter. It’s yours to do with whatever you wish.”

  I accept, silently trying to convey my compassion. “Thank you.”

  “Do you want to meet Miles?” Zoe asks almost shyly.

  I eye her cautiously. “I really want to, but…” I grimace at my cowardice. “Will Blake be there?”

  “He’s out of town for business.”

  Anguish and relief slice through my heart at the same time. He wanted to take me away during this time. And he’s gone now? That sucks. Where did he go? Zoe’s looking at me and waiting for an answer. “Oh. Okay, then let’s make plans.”

  Since the weather’s so gorgeous, we decide that I’ll walk by Blake’s house to get Stella and Miles for dinner at Baccino’s later that evening. They’ll drive to dinner.

  After my friend leaves, I stay on the grass to read her letter. I pull the cream paper out of the envelope and begin reading.

  Stella,

  There’s no better person that I know than you. Okay, that’s not exactly right. My brother, Blake, and you tie for first place. You’re loving, kind, compassionate, thoughtful, selfless. The list goes on and on and on.

  The regret that I hold for pushing you away is so heavy sometimes that I don’t think I can bear the weight. You didn’t deserve how selfish I was. You didn’t deserve a friend who thought of only her own needs. I see now that I had to go through this path. There was nothing either one of us could do to change what happened. But I wonder, a person so giving and loving as you, do you think you could have done more for me?

  I don’t presume to tell you how you feel, Stella, please understand that. The thing is, I want you to know that I had to go on this painful journey. There was more to my breakdown than Clinton Smith. I had to come to terms with losing my parents and how I saw myself as a result of their death.

  Maybe none of this makes sense to you. And I’m sorry if it doesn’t. I want to talk to you like we used to before Clarkes happened. I want to call you on any given day to hear your voice. I want you to come to me with your problems and vice versa. I guess what I’m saying is, I want us back. I understand if you’re not ready or willing to give that back to me. It’s probably hard to trust a friend who runs like I did, but still, I beg of you to try.

  I love you, Stella. Love you more than any friend. Love you like a sister.

  Zoe

  By the end of the letter, the cream paper is dark with my tears. I pull my phone from my person and tap out a text to my friend.

  Love you, too, Zoe. So glad to have you back.

  If only I could have Blake back, too.

  Instead of heading home after the park, I navigate my car to my parents’ place. There’s only one person who can make sense of my confusion: Mom. Comforting scents of homemade tomato soup permeates the air when I enter the front door. I toss my keys and purse on the entryway table and head right to the kitchen where I know I’ll find her.

  “Cara,” she mutters without looking over her shoulder to identify me. Must be a mom sense, knowing your spawn by the fall of their footsteps.

  “Mom.” My voice cracks under the weight of emotion I carry, and she instantly drops the wooden spoon and whirls around to collect my in her arms. She clutches me close as if I’m still a child, murmuring sympathetic Italian phrases and smelling like flour and onion, scents reminiscent of my childhood.

  “Tell me.”

  After the epic blowup with Blake in New Point, I hadn’t called my mother. In fact, I hadn’t really told anyone except Violet because she called to ask how
the trip went. Everyone in my family was wrapped up in wedding plans, and I didn’t want to take attention away from my cousin and his future wife with my drama.

  “Blake and I are finished.”

  “No,” she immediately responds vehemently. “That man is in love with you, Stella, I’ve seen it since the day I met him.”

  I shift out of her embrace and run a hand through my messy hair. “What are you talking about?

  “Wait,” she demands, flitting out of the kitchen and into the dining room. The bar cart clinks as she moves bottles around. Then she reappears, holding two tumblers of the Frangelico liqueur.

  Tilting the glass to my lips, I let the hazelnut-flavored alcohol ease some of my tension.

  “Since he came to dinner at our house. I saw the way that boy laid his eyes on you, cara. Pure adoration. Perhaps something came in the way of those emotions, but I know that he doesn’t want to lose you.”

  “That’s what Zoe said, too,” I admit.

  “Zoe!” my mother gasps. Her glass hits the counter with a clank as she crosses herself, muttering a prayer. “You haven’t told me.”

  “I know, Mom, I’m sorry, but with the wedding…”

  “My daughter puts everyone’s needs above her own,” Mom says sagely. “You’re my most precious, cara, of course, you should tell me when something troubles you.”

  Realization takes over when I notice the pattern, pushing my feelings aside to comfort Blake and now, in my time of need, not turning to my mom. Foolish. Mom is my biggest advocate. “Blake didn’t tell Zoe about us for…basically our entire relationship up until two weeks ago. We were going to New Point for Zoe’s birthday; I was supposed to be her surprise. When we arrived –”

  “Clinton Smith,” Mom interjects, this time taking a gulp of Frangelico.

  “Yes, well, by the time we found Zoe, Blake must have forgotten that I was his girlfriend because he tossed me aside. He didn’t tell her that we were together when she asked why I came down to New Point.” I release a heavy sigh, toying with the rest of the story. “While he was ignoring me, I left New Point and took a train back to the city. We got into a fight; he said I was immature and basically selfish.”