Damian: Do I have your word that you’ll go through with it?
Stella: Yes. Of course.
Damian: How much does your word stand for?
What an odd question to ask.
Stella: What do you mean?
Damian: Many people’s word means shit. They give their word but then take it back. I don’t fuck around with taker-backers, so if you aren’t fully committed to this, do not agree to it and make it a pain in my ass situation with this back-and-forth talk. So, again, how much does your word stand for?
My heart was skipping beats as I read his message. A strong tug at my chest made it hard to take inhalations. Why did this stranger make me feel so much?
Stella: My word means everything.
Damian: I hope that’s true.
Stella: And sorry for texting so late. I hope I didn’t wake you. Are you a night owl?
He didn’t reply. It seemed he wasn’t much for small talk.
I placed my phone back down on the nightstand, but instead of falling asleep, I stared into the darkness of the night, thinking about how my life was about to do a one-eighty.
Mrs. Blackstone.
I hated how that name was going to be mine, even if only temporarily.
My hope, dream, and greatest wish was to one day take on Jeff’s last name and be his wife. But first, it appeared I had to make a last-name stop as Blackstone. A name extremely fitting for a man whose spirit was just as dark and personality cold as stone.
The next morning, I awakened to the doorbell ringing. Jeff grumbled and pushed his pillow over his head to tune out the sound. “Get that,” he muttered before rolling onto his side.
Out of the two of us, it was clear I was the morning person. To be fair, Jeff spent most of his nights DJing until the sun rose. He excelled with the moonbeams as I danced beneath the sun.
Still, the sun was hardly up as the doorbell rang repeatedly.
I slipped into my morning robe and poop emoji slippers that Jeff bought me for Christmas last year and headed to the front door of our duplex. I didn’t know why, but Jeff thought the slippers were the funniest thing in the world. They were comfortable, no denying.
To my surprise, I found the one person I thought I’d never see on my side of town.
“Catherine.” I tightened the belt on my robe as bewilderment hit me. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Stella. I was hoping we could talk.”
I glanced at the grandfather clock sitting in my living room. “It’s only five thirty in the morning.”
“Yes, well, you can imagine I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”
“Understandable, but how did you know where I live?”
“Let’s not do the small talk thing. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” She glanced back to her car parked on the street. “Is my car safe in this neighborhood?”
I chuckled a little. “It stands out a bit, but it should be fine.”
She grimaced as she took her key ring and locked it repeatedly, making a loud beeping sound echo shoot down the block.
“If you want, we can talk in your car?” I offered, knowing that she’d lose her mind if even a mere scratch ended up on her car that cost more than my home. “Besides, Jeff is still sleeping, and I wouldn’t want to wake him.”
A sigh of relief fell from her lips as she nodded. “Yes, well, I suppose that’s all right,” she huffed, seemingly annoyed by the whole situation, even though she was the one who showed up unannounced to my home. Grams had a very solid rule about uninvited guests: keep the doors shut and the curtains drawn.
“No one should show up without an invite to one’s home. That’s invading their haven,” she’d always say. “And if they do that, they will cross all of your boundaries without a blink of the eye.”
We walked to her car, and I climbed into the passenger seat. Once we were both seated, Catherine locked the doors a total of four times. “Just in case,” she said.
I simply smiled. In her mind, a gangster was probably going to stab her in the side any minute now.
Her eyes fell to my poop emoji slippers when I crossed my legs, and the look of disgust overtook her. If anything, Catherine did not have a poker face.
“They were a gift from Jeff for—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, cutting me off. “Your fashion sense is not why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh. Okay. Well… what is it?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
“What for?”
“For how I treated you in the past. I want to apologize for that. I was distraught and not myself. I’ve done a lot of therapy over the years and changed. For that, I’m sorry.”
“Wow, Catherine. Thank you. That’s very—”
“Anyway, I need you to make sure Damian chooses me for the best stepmom payout,” she cut in.
I laughed because she couldn’t be serious. Then again, the serious stare in her eyes made my chuckles dissipate. “You’re not joking?”
“Not at all, no. I deserve it. I pretty much raised you more than any of those other women.”
The Devil works hard, but Catherine works harder.
“So, you came out here just so I could talk Damian into picking you? You didn’t really care about apologizing?”
“Of course not,” she said without thought, then she realized her slipup and shook her head. “I mean, of course that’s not the only reason. I do care about you.”
It felt like the hardest thing for Catherine’s lips to say.
“Just do it, Stella. If I’m honest, you don’t even deserve a cent of my husband’s money. You aren’t his family.”
“He was always like a father figure to me. And you are his ex-wife.”
“But he wasn’t your father. You don’t even know your father, and you can thank your mother for that, but you can leave Kevin out of your twisted fantasies. He was my husband, not yours.”
“Don’t ever speak about my mother like that,” I hissed, my heart rate rising as her words stung my ears. Catherine had enough nerve to spit on her name. I could handle a lot in life. I could handle the insults people shot out about me, and I could handle others’ judgments, but speaking against my family was a line I refused to allow them to cross.
Catherine parted her lips with a comeback but must’ve chosen against it. She cleared her throat. “Just promise to choose me. Or better yet, null the whole agreement, and Rosalina, Denise, and I will split the money. I know you don’t want it. It’s for the best that the three of us get the payout.”
“And Damian? What about him?”
“What matters what happens to him? He’s nobody to us. He can go back to whatever bridge he crawled out from under.”
That gut instinct hit me quickly as I thought back to the conversation I shared with Damian.
What does your word mean?
Catherine nudged the paperwork toward me, and I hesitated.
“Just do it, Stella. I know you’re not a woman who would want a handout, anyway. You’re a strong woman who works for what she gets.”
“Yes… that’s true, but I can’t do what you’re asking. And I won’t cancel out Kevin’s final wishes.”
“Why in the world not?”
“I already gave Damian my word.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Last night, I spoke with him. I told him I’d go along with the arrangement.”
“Who cares what you told him. Your loyalty isn’t to him, Stella.”
I shook my head. “I can’t go back on my word.”
“You can’t be serious right now,” she asked, flabbergasted. Her brows rose, and I swore I almost saw steam shooting out of her ears from her anger as her face turned the deepest shade of red. “Stop being ridiculous, Stella!”
I unlocked my door and opened it. “I’m sorry, Catherine. I truly am, but I gave him my word.”
“You are a gold-digging fool! I knew I should’ve never trusted you. I raised you! You
know what? Go to hell, Stella, just like your mother.”
I knew that last dig was due to her being upset, but it still stung.
After I climbed out of the car and closed the door, Catherine peeled her tires in her ruse to leave.
I stood outside, taking a few deep breaths, shaking off the words that the upset woman delivered about my character and about my mother. I wouldn’t take that energy into my home.
Nothing she said held any truth.
I knew myself.
I wasn’t a gold digger.
I wasn’t a monster.
And my mother wasn’t in hell.
If anything, Heaven had a special section carved out for Mama and her heartbeats. I hoped so deeply that Kevin was right beside her, too.
When I crawled back into bed next to a snoring Jeff, my phone dinged.
Damian: Meet tomorrow at Roe Real Estate office. My lawyer will be present to go over the final details.
It appeared that Catherine wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been sleeping lately.
6
Damian
* * *
My driver pulled up to Kevin’s home on Thursday afternoon. I spoke with Stella, who told me she was moving her things in on Wednesday. Since I didn’t want to cross paths with her move, I waited a day to get my things inside the home. More than a home, it was a mansion. The kinds of homes I sold on the daily to wealthy people who made absurd amounts of money. The kinds of homes I’d mocked my whole life, saying no one needed that much space to live in.
Over twenty thousand square feet of land, right on the coast with a beautiful white sandy beach. There was a massive outdoor swimming pool, a basketball court, a tennis court, and even a sauna house. Also, there was a guesthouse where Kevin’s former housekeeper, Maple Woods, lived in.
If sixteen-year-old Damian would’ve pulled up to the house, he would’ve believed he was in an alternate universe. Grown-up Damian still felt the same way.
It slightly pissed me off, seeing how much some people had when so many others suffered. Life was such bullshit sometimes, and it wasn’t fair how it all worked out. I didn’t deserve to live in a place like that house, and I damn sure knew it was fucked up that a man I never knew was forcing it to be my temporary home.
I wasn’t a stranger to temporary homes. Truthfully, they were all I’d ever known.
Before I entered the house, I shot Stella a message that I’d arrived. I felt it was only right to give her a heads-up that I was in the house. I’d be creeped out knowing a stranger was just walking around the place I was supposed to live.
She texted back right away. With emojis. Almost every single message she sent me had an emoji attached to it. That pretty much summed up the type of person she was. You could tell a lot about a person based on their usage of emojis. For Stella, it seemed as if she was trying too hard with the number of smiley faces she sent after every sentence. I was more of a solid period kind of texter. I used short words and got straight to the point, unlike Stella, who wrote paragraph after paragraph as if she was crafting the next great American novel.
I told her I was heading over. She told me okay, along with what she was unpacking, what she was ordering for dinner—asking if I wanted anything—and then she told me how many rings were around Saturn. Okay, maybe not the latter, but it seemed like it.
I began unloading some boxes from the car. The rest of my crap would be coming in after the wedding, so I only had a few things to take in.
My driver helped with the boxes, then headed out for the night.
I knew Stella was somewhere in the house because her car was parked outside, but it took hours for us to even cross paths. When we did, it was as I sat at the dining room table eating my dinner. Stella’s meal arrived at the front door, and she went to retrieve it. When she came back toward the kitchen, there was no way for her not to cross my path.
She looked at me and paused, seemingly shocked as she took a step back.
This was it. The perfect opportunity to invite her to join me for a meal, so I would seem less like a dick and she’d be more likely to finish the six months of the deal.
Go ahead, Damian. Offer her an invite.
“You just gonna gawk or sit?” I spat out.
She frowned. “Not with that attitude.”
“Then stop staring, Cinderstella.”
“No problem, Beast.” She walked away in a hurry, leaving me sitting in the darkened room.
I couldn’t blame her. That wasn’t the warmest invitation I’d ever extended. Then again, I wasn’t one to invite people to eat with me. Over the years, I’d learned to enjoy my solitude. For so many years of my life, people sent me away. Now, I never let people close enough to have that opportunity. Besides, I liked being alone. Loneliness was safe. People couldn’t hurt you when you were by yourself.
Stella plated her meal in the kitchen and came back into the dining room.
Please keep walking.
She didn’t, of course because Stella liked to talk.
“I think we need ground rules,” she stated, picking at her food with her fingers.
“I thought our rules were to avoid one another?”
“Yes, but we can’t do that all the time.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s silly.” Solid reason, Stella. “Plus, roommates have rules. Like grocery shopping. Do we do that together?”
“Absolutely not.”
“And laundry?”
“I do my own.”
“What about guests? If you are going to entertain women, or men, or well, I mean anyone in a romantic way, you can let me know, and I’ll stay in my room the whole time.”
“And same with you.”
“I won’t be having Jeff over, actually. I think it might be too odd.”
I nodded because I didn’t care.
She raised an eyebrow. “Is there…?”
“Is there what?”
“Someone in your life?”
“You’re asking if I’m single?”
“Yes. Not that it matters, but, well, if your person—”
“I don’t do relationships.”
“Says the man about to marry a stranger.”
“It’s a marriage, not a relationship. Two equally different things.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But don’t you kind of wonder why Kevin chose to put us together? I mean, I know there’s a reason, but I’m unable to connect the dots.”
“I have no desire to know his reasoning. I’m only in this to get the money. After the six months, I’ll be on my way.”
She lightly snickered as if I said something amusing. “Come on. You have to be somewhat curious about why he did this.”
“Not in the least.”
“But—”
“Why do you keep talking to me?” I snapped. “It’s clear as day that I don’t want to engage in conversation.”
“You’re so rude.”
“And a jerk and an asshole, yes. How many times are you going to echo your thoughts on me before you take a hint and let me be?” Her mouth parted, and I tilted my head, cutting her off before she could reply. “Good night.”
I was cruel to her. I couldn’t help it. Whenever I looked at her, I was reminded of how my father chose to raise another instead of me. She stood for the life I could’ve had, and that pissed me off. She was so happy and well put together. Approachable, kind, sunshine, and happiness. It wasn’t fair.
I never had the chance to feel the love she received from a man who owed it to me. It wasn’t her fault, but I was bitter. Bitterness had a way of shooting off a person and hitting innocent bystanders. Stella was just in the crossfire of my hatred for Kevin Michaels.
The later the night grew, the odder and more uncomfortable the whole situation began to feel. I’d been in my fair share of foster homes growing up, and those first nights were always the hardest. I’d always overthink how long the arrangement would last before the family chose to give me up. I hated that a fe
eling I thought I’d never have to experience again was returning in such an odd way.
When I headed to my bedroom, I lay wide awake until the sun came up, and I went into work, exhausted beyond compare.
I bet Stella slept better than I had inside the home that raised her. Unfortunately for me, I was left wide awake with my nightmares.
The workday was mundane, as all workdays had been. I felt emotionally exhausted from being an introvert who needed to pretend to be an extrovert while selling homes to filthy rich snobs all day. The moment I could relax my face after fake smiles and over-the-top kindness, I felt a bit better. Resting bitch face was my default after a full day of work.
Plus, when one had a resting bitch face, most people didn’t find the need to approach you for conversation. Stella was still unable to read the room, but she’d learn quickly.
After work, I dreaded going back to the house to live yet another day in the make-believe world that Kevin had crafted. The wedding was in the morning, and I had yet to wrap my head around that fact.
When the driver pulled up to the property, I saw a random car parked in the driveway.
Well, I’ll be damned.
The asshole came.
Connor brought Aaliyah with him, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thankful for their presence. Since I’d arrived in California, everything felt foreign to me. I felt as if I were in a place where I didn’t belong and where no one understood me. So, seeing their familiar faces brought me a comfort I didn’t even know I was missing.
“How did you find out where I was staying?” I asked Connor as he climbed out of his rental car. Aaliyah wasn’t far behind him, and he waited until she was right beside him to start approaching. He never walked ahead of her, always side by side. If they were walking through a door, he’d hold it open for her. If she coughed, he already had a glass of water ready for her to sip. I bet most people didn’t notice the little things that Connor did for his wife, but they always stood out to me. I didn’t believe in love until I saw how it worked for them. They made it look easy.
“You don’t think you’re the only one who’s a good detective, do you?” he joked, walking over to me. He patted me on the shoulder because he knew how I felt about hugs.
Western Waves Page 6