I nodded. “Yes.” Any more words, and I was on the path of falling completely apart. I didn’t want to talk about what happened because it hurt too much. I didn’t want to face the fact that my friend and boyfriend had been sneaking around behind my back for God knows how long. If I spoke the words, I’d shatter.
“I… I mean… They…” The words faltered off. My brain was too exhausted and overwhelmed to even try to form a full sentence.
“Words are overrated,” he said, looking down at the floor. When he looked up, his lips sat in a heavy frown. “It makes me upset, though.”
“What does?”
“When assholes make you cry. So, I made you something.”
I raised a curious eyebrow.
He slid his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants. “Whenever I’m enraged or filled to the brim with hurt, I find a rage room. It’s a place you can go and break a bunch of shit to get the energy out of your body. I figured you wouldn’t love that as much as me, so I made you something else.”
“What is it?”
“Follow me.”
I did as he said. He led us outside toward the pool house, and when he opened the doors, I was shocked to see the floor in plastic. All the furniture had been removed, and the walls looked as if they’d been freshly painted canvas white. The kitchen area of the pool house was covered with tapestry, and in the opened space were buckets of paint. Twenty-four buckets, to be exact, with a range of colors. Beside them sat a pair of goggles.
I looked back at Damian. “What is this?”
“A rage room—Stella style. Use the whole space. The walls, the ceiling, it’s your canvas. Unlike my rage rooms when things just break… I figured you could take your rage and make something beautiful.”
A slight laugh left my lips. “I don’t think what I’m feeling would come out beautiful.”
“I’ve seen your artwork. Trust me. It will be beautiful.”
“Why would you do this for me?”
“You’re hurting. So, I figured I’d help you out because that’s what friends do.”
My heart skipped a few beats. “Friends?”
“Friends,” he echoed.
My hands landed against my chest. “You want to be my friend?”
He released a weighted sigh. “Don’t make it a big deal, Cinderstella,” he said, being gentle as he used my nickname. “Please don’t cry.”
“You just said you want to be my friend, Beast. That’s a reason for tears.”
“It actually isn’t. It’s a far, far reason to relinquish emotions.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t have emotions.”
“Maybe.”
I smiled.
Maybe.
He walked over to the goggles, picked them up, and then placed them over my eyes. “Make a mess. The biggest mess you can make. Yell. Scream. Fall apart. Get it all out, and I’ll clean it up later.”
He walked out of the space, leaving me alone with the buckets of paint, and I did as he said. I went to war with my emotions, diving my hands into the buckets of paint and throwing it toward the blank walls. I screamed as I spread my hands across the walls. I cried as I felt all the rage that’d been building up inside me. I covered the walls and myself with reds, blues, purples, greens. Paint dripped down my fingertips, down my elbows, against my clothing. My toes were covered in paint, and my heart cried out as I slapped paint against the walls.
The energy of using art to break through the pain of Jeff’s betrayal felt powerful. As if even though I was hurting, something beautiful could’ve been created from the destruction.
When I finished hours later, the walls were covered in life. I’d never created something packed with so much feeling using only my hands. I stood back in awe of what I’d created, and then I fell to my knees and cried. I cried for the girl I used to be. The one who felt as if I had to be a certain way to keep my family together. I cried for the betrayal that I faced. I cried because a big part of me was thankful for finding out about Jeff and Kelsey.
I needed that reason to finally feel free.
Once I was done allowing my emotions to race through me, allowing myself to feel every single emotion out there, I headed back inside the house. I walked over to Damian’s office, where I knew he’d be, and I looked inside because his door was wide open.
His door was never open when we first moved in with one another, but now, every time I passed it, I could be met with his eyes.
Those blue eyes that I once thought were cold. When in reality, they were simply lonely.
He looked up at me, and a small smile hit his lips. “Better?”
I nodded. “Better.”
“Told you it would be beautiful,” he mentioned, looking back down at his paperwork.
I laughed a little. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”
“Yes.” He looked me up and down before turning back to his paperwork. “I have.”
A few more heart flips to end the night. “Good night, Beast,” I whispered.
He didn’t look up, but replied, “Good night, Cinderstella.”
23
Damian
* * *
“No,” I said sternly as Stella stood in front of me. A few days had passed since the intense weekend, and we were slowly falling into a new pattern. I didn’t cross paths with her much during the weekdays because I left for work before sunrise and was home late after the sun fell for the day.
Stella was in her art mode, too. When she was in the zone of creation, she was locked in tight, and I didn’t see a need to interrupt her from her masterpieces. That was what they were, too—masterpieces. I’d never seen art like hers in my life. Maybe I was biased because she was my wife, but hell, she was the best creator I’d ever seen.
She didn’t know it, but I was sending clients her way. When I’d sell a property, I’d also slide them her card so they could buy commission pieces for her. She’d probably hate the idea that I was doing it, but I didn’t care.
The world deserved to see her creations on a grand scheme.
Anyway.
That had nothing to do with anything that was happening that very minute.
Stella stood in front of me, now only using one crutch to get around, grinning like a goofy person. “Come on, Damian! We definitely have to do this.”
“Again, no,” I said. “There’s no way in hell we are doing this.”
“Please?” she begged. “It’s Friday night, and we’re both finally home at the same time. I’m bored, and you’re bored, so it only makes sense for us to hang out and do something.”
“I’m fine with hanging out with you and doing something as long as it’s not that something.”
She pushed out her bottom lip in the biggest pout and whimpered as she dangled the keys in front of my face. “Pleaseeee?”
I hated her for being so damn cute. It made it hard for me to hold my unbothered personality. Because every time she pouted my way, all I wanted to do was give her whatever the hell she wanted.
“Don’t do that,” I warned.
“Do what?”
Be so perfect.
I rolled my eyes. “Are you even trained to teach people to drive?”
She sighed. “You don’t need to be trained to teach people how to drive, Damian. That’s not a thing.”
“Uh, pretty sure that’s a thing.”
“Stop being dramatic. This is going to be great. Come on. Please. I really want to spend some time with you.”
That did me in. She confessed wanting to spend time with me, and my frozen heart began to defrost like a solid chicken breast in the microwave. I was rubbery as all get out for this woman.
“We’ll stay on the property,” I told her.
The moment she realized she broke me down enough to agree with the plan, she did a little wiggly jig.
Add that cuteness to the list of shit I loved about Stella.
I liked how lately it seemed that when we looked at one another, smil
es were the default.
“I like this,” she confessed. “I like watching you be soft.”
I wanted to say something more. I wanted to tell her that she made me into a puddle, that she messed up my emotions and made me feel things I didn’t want to feel, things I didn’t even know could be felt, but instead, I shrugged and grabbed the keys from her hands.
“Let’s hit the open road. Also known as the driveway,” I said.
We went outside, and well…I was a terrible driver.
“It’s okay, Damian.” Stella laughed as I jerked the car back and forth like an idiot. Who decided that driving a stick was the thing to do? “You can’t be gorgeous and a great driver. We have to keep things balanced in life.”
I smirked and jerked the car forward. “You think I’m hot?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Oh, it went to my head, but probably the one she wasn’t talking about.
I shifted around in the seat and readjusted my jeans so she wouldn’t notice the growing beast that seemed to lately want to wave her way whenever she came around me. “No, no. Go ahead. Tell me again how good-looking I am,” I joked.
She groaned. “I was just trying to be nice because I know most people think you’re ugly because of your big forehead. You’re gorgeous in an odd kind of way. Like yeah, your earlobes hang low, and your torso is too long for words. And sure, your lips are deflated pancakes, but hey, at least you got your nose.” She tilted her head and stared at me. “Oh, wait. That’s crooked, too.”
I laughed. “Are you sassing me, Mrs. Blackstone?”
“Maybe a little, Mr. Blackstone.”
I was falling for this side of her.
I was falling for the way she mocked me.
I was falling for the way she made goofy faces.
I was falling for… her.
The car jerked forward one more time, and Stella’s laughter filled the air.
Just like that, I was hers, and she didn’t even know it.
“Can we spend Christmas together?” Stella asked after yet another driving lesson. Christmas was two weeks around the corner, and nothing about California felt very Christmas-y. I was used to filthy snow by this time of year and strangers cussing you out as you walked down the streets of New York.
“Are you a Christmas girl?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Stella’s eyes lit up as she nodded aggressively. “I am a Christmas girl. Times a million. I hired people to come deck out the house tomorrow, but I was also thinking maybe we can do some fun Christmas activities together. Like go sledding up north. Or go see the Christmas lights or—”
“Watch The Holiday, Love Actually, or Four Christmases while drinking hot cocoa?” I asked.
Her jaw dropped open as she pointed a finger at me. “How do you know those movies?”
“I might have searched out Christmas rom-coms to watch with you, knowing that you already loved Christmas. I also got us tickets to see The Nutcracker.”
“How did you know I loved Christmas?”
“I just study you, that’s all. I see how you react to things in public and make mental notes of what I think you might enjoy.”
Her hands fell against her chest as she shook her head in disbelief. “My hard hummus.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just…” She was crying, but it was okay. I’d learned early on that she shared her emotions through her tears. It felt like a privilege to make her cry happy tears. And a heartbreak to make her cry sad ones. I knew these were happy, though, which made me glad.
I’d also learned to carry tissues in my pockets for my gentle girl.
My gentle girl?
No. She wasn’t mine, but sometimes my scarred heart liked to pretend.
She sniffled and smiled at me. “You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met.”
“You’re the greatest woman on this planet,” I replied without thought.
I thought about kissing her.
I didn’t, but… yeah. I thought about it.
“Don’t do that, Damian,” she whispered.
“Do what?”
“Make my heart skip for you.”
We spent the days leading up to Christmas doing every holiday thing possible. I’d watched Stella’s eyes light up in wonderment at the littlest things. We walked through the streets, admiring the Christmas lights. We drove up north to cut down our own tree and decorated it with strings of popcorn like she used to do with her mother, and strings of Froot Loops like I once did with a foster family.
The week before Christmas, we sat on the couch, drinking hot cocoa and watching yet another Christmas movie. This time, it was It’s a Wonderful Life. I’d never seen it, but Stella told me she watched it every single year with Kevin.
Lately, when she talked about him, I didn’t feel hatred anymore. I felt wonderment. I secretly wanted to know more about the man who raised her, and the one who didn’t get a chance to raise me, too. Would this have been our tradition? Would he have eaten scones with me, too?
We sat on the couch, and I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a touch of emotions at the end of the movie when the town came together for George.
“Are you crying?” Stella asked, looking my way. She, of course, was in tears.
Me, on the other hand? I sniffled. “No. Allergies.”
She laughed and nudged me in the arm. “Lying?”
“Yes.” Lying.
Every time she touched me, my body reacted with chills.
Nudge me again, Stella.
“I like this side of you, you know,” she explained. “The soft side.”
“It only comes out around you for some reason.”
“Do you feel safe with me, Beast?”
I wanted to make a sarcastic remark, to brush off her comment because it felt as if I were being too vulnerable with my emotions. Emotions I didn’t even know I’d had. Instead, I said, “Yes.”
She smiled, and my gosh, I wanted to kiss that smile and melt into her lips.
“Good,” she said, taking a sip of her cocoa. “Because I feel safe with you.”
Beat, beat, heart, heart.
“Oh! I was thinking! We should do Secret Santa!” she said, reaching around to a bowl on the side table beside her. “I actually put our names into a bowl so we can pull names.”
I laughed. “There’s only two of us.”
“Yes, but it’s still part of the fun of Secret Santa—pulling names.”
“Okay.” I smirked, reached into the bowl, and picked up a piece of paper. I unfolded it and read my own name. “Damian.”
Stella’s nose scrunched up, and she grabbed the piece of paper from my hand. “No, no. Pick again.”
I laughed and did as she said. As I was about to read her name out loud, she tossed her hands up in the air. “No! Don’t tell me who you got! It’s a secret!” she remarked.
“I adore you.” I chuckled.
Her brown eyes widened from my words. I’d been doing too much of that lately. Speaking without thought.
“Sorry,” I muttered, growing a bit self-conscious of my confession.
“No, no. Don’t be. You just… you say things to me that people have never said before.”
“Like what?”
“Like that. Or you call me memorizing. Or astonishing. Or remarkable. No one has ever used those words to describe me.”
I grimaced. That upset me. “I’m sorry no one has ever told you the truth before, Stella. You are all those things and more.”
Her cheeks rose and blushed over as shyness discovered her. “Thank you, husband.”
“Welcome, wife.”
The more time we spent together, the more we learned about one another. We traded our favorite holiday memories. One of hers was going skiing in Colorado with Maple, and one of mine was when I spent Christmas with a foster family, and they got a new puppy. We didn’t only talk about the happy memories. We explo
red the sad ones, too. One night after yet another romantic comedy, she shared her struggles with an eating disorder that landed her in the hospital.
“After that, Kevin made sure to eat three meals a day with me, even after I moved out. He’d take lunch breaks just to make sure I was okay,” Stella explained. “It took a long time, but I came around.”
“I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you’re comfortable in your own skin now.”
She shrugged. “It’s a daily struggle. For example, when I broke things off with
Jeff, he called me a few names. He commented about my weight, and those small voices came back. The ‘skip breakfast’ voices and the ‘maybe no carbs this week’ whispers. It’s an everyday battle.”
“I hate him,” I told her.
“Me too,” she agreed. “But still, I hate those parts of me that still believe him.”
“I don’t say this to flatter you or make you feel better, Stella, but simply because it’s true.” I shifted against the couch and turned to her. “You are the most stunning woman I have ever come across. From the top of your head to the soles of your feet, you are breathtaking. Add that with your personality, and well… there’s no one more beautiful.”
Her shyness returned, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I’m not used to being called beautiful.”
“Okay,” I agreed, “then I’ll do it more often.”
She smiled and shook her head. “It’s just funny. Jeff was so concerned about how you looked at me. He said it was as if you stared at me as if I were—”
“The sun,” I finished.
Her eyes widened a bit, surprised. “Yes, like the sun.”
“Well”—I shrugged—“I supposed he was just as good as reading me as I was at reading him.”
24
Stella
* * *
The conversations with Damian grew in ways I couldn’t even believe. It was amazing to see where we begun and how far we’d come with our connection in just about two months’ time. Our living room confessions when we watched a Christmas movie were becoming my favorite part of each evening.
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