by Piper Rayne
Sedona gets up from her chair. Holy shit, her belly grows bigger and bigger every damn day. “Stella, I missed talking to you at the hospital. How have you been? Come and sit.”
“Congratulations,” Stella says, staring at Sedona’s swollen stomach.
Sedona runs her hands down her baby bump. “Thanks. And before you ask, no, Jamison isn’t here. He’s not up for the challenge.”
I stop shaking hands with Wyatt and look at the two women. Did they keep in contact?
Sedona smiles nicely to me to suggest that they might have gotten together a few times in New York. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Stella grips my sister’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing I can do about it. His loss.” Sedona puts on a brave smile, but I can see the sadness underneath.
That asshole Jamison better watch out if I ever see him again.
“So true.”
“Stella Harrison!” Grandma Dori comes out of the back of the restaurant and her arms are wide and welcoming, enveloping Stella.
While she questions Stella on everything she’s missed, my siblings eye me with their own questions. I shake my head.
Finally, Stella sits down next to me at the table. Rome comes out of the back with the food, Calista helping him with the bread baskets.
“You’re late,” Calista says to me.
I tickle her and pull her onto my lap. “Say hello to my friend, Stella.”
“Hi.” She waves.
“This is Rome’s daughter, Calista, and that’s Dion and Phoebe.”
Harley walks in with a belly as swollen as Sedona’s.
“And our fourth is due soon,” Rome says with a proud grin.
Harley kisses her husband on the cheek. “Not too soon.”
Harley and Sedona talk about swollen ankles and not fitting into booths anymore while Austin glares at me across the table. He nods toward the door. A minute later, he says he forgot something in his truck and leaves the restaurant.
Since he left me no opening to follow without being obvious, I just announce to everyone that Austin wants to lecture me, stand, grab my coat, and head out the door.
He’s leaning on the side of the building when I come out. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Stella needed a friend today and I figured our family has always loved her.”
Austin nods. “Are you two a couple?”
“No. She’s dating Lou.”
“Really? And you’re okay with that?” He shakes his head.
“I told you I was pushing her out of my life.” I do my best to have my poker face on, but I don’t know if I succeed.
“Doesn’t look like it.” He nods toward the restaurant. “We can’t repeat the past.”
“Not gonna happen. I’m cool. Promise.”
Austin nods. “And you’ll talk to me should things change?”
“I’ve got this handled.” I clamp him on the shoulder and squeeze.
The thing about having Austin as an older-brother-turned-guardian is he isn’t as strict as a parent. He trusts me to a point, but the last thing I need is for him to have to bail me out again.
We walk back in, and I’m happy to find Stella enthralled in a conversation with Holly.
“Hey, Denver, remind me to talk to you about the Alaska Adventure Race Expedition,” I say.
Denver peeks up from eating his pasta. “Why?”
“That’s super dangerous,” Cleo says, looking at Denver. “Last year, that one guy died.”
“Again I ask why?” Denver says.
“Because I have an in and figured I need you if I want to make it out alive.” I chuckle.
“What’s this?” Stella asks, joining our conversation.
“It’s a ridiculous week-long race where you travel through the Alaskan wilderness—ice mountains, raging rapids, you name it. There’re pit stops, but you only have access to the things you pack,” Cleo says.
Cleo’s clearly not a fan, so my only hope is that she doesn’t have Denver by the balls and he’ll still agree to join me. Surely, she doesn’t have an impact on his decision.
“I’ll have to look into it.” Denver piles another heaping spoonful into his mouth.
“Absolutely not. You’re not doing it.” Cleo’s voice is louder than I’ve ever heard it.
Denver looks thrown back. “Babe, I’m an expert,” he says with a wink.
“I’m in.” Griffin raises his hand.
I point and nod. He’s done more than enough survivalist excursions to be an asset.
Phoenix takes his arm and pulls it down to his side. “No, you’re not.”
Cleo and Denver argue next to me, and Griffin and Phoenix argue across the table.
“Why do you still do all this crazy crap?” Stella softly asks next to me.
When Sedona turns her head, I know she heard, but she tries to act as though she’s having a conversation with Maverick about some new video game.
“What do you mean?” I ask Stella.
“So you still don’t care whether you live or die?” Stella asks.
It’s not her words as much as the disgusted look on her face that takes me aback.
She doesn’t speak to me again for most of dinner, and when the night ends, she’s off with a quick goodbye and not even a backward glance.
Nine
Stella
“Mom?” I knock on her art room door.
“Come in.”
Luther Vandross plays behind the door, which means she’s in the zone. I have a feeling I’m going solo to Juno and Colton’s wedding. I love my mom, but she has a tendency to get wrapped up in her work.
As I open the door and step into the room, I find her in her pajamas with her apron on. I guess I have my answer.
“Am I going to the wedding by myself?” I ask.
She picks up the remote for the stereo I bought her. The one she fought me hard on, saying she needed to listen to vinyl if she wants to feel the music. But after she started using the stereo, she learned how much better her flow is when she’s not interrupted by having to change out records constantly.
I peek around her canvas and stop dead in my tracks. I’m always struck by my mom’s talent with a paintbrush, no matter how many times I see her work, but this is not what I want to see right before I go to a wedding.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I got inspired a few nights ago and it just kind of flew out of me.”
“Mom.” It’s a painting of my father. Not how I knew him though—how he would’ve looked had he still been alive today.
“I know. I’m sorry if it upsets you, but it just kind of happened and I went with it.” My hands land on her shoulders, and she pats one. “He would have been gorgeous with salt and pepper in his hair against the dark hue of his skin, still with that gentle look in his eye. He was a fine man then and he would be now.”
I ignore the Kleenex on the table nearby and take a moment to soak in the painting. “Yeah, he would have.” After a moment, I sit on a nearby stool. “Mom?”
“Yeah?” She picks up her paintbrushes and heads to her sink.
“How come you never got remarried?”
She never so much as went out on a date with anyone as far as I know. There aren’t a ton of African Americans in Lake Starlight, and if she’s attracted to only black men, her options are limited living here. But I don’t think she’s ever even entertained the idea of dating.
She turns off the faucet and comes and sits on the stool across from me. “I was lucky. Some people take a lifetime to find their perfect match. Some never find it. I found it with your dad. To date again was just senseless.” She shrugs.
“But you might have found a companion. Maybe you wouldn’t have loved him as much as Dad, but you could have loved him in a different way.”
She laughs and pats my knee. “What are you really asking me, baby? What’s this about?”
I shrug, running my hands down the skirt of my dress. “I just wondered. I hate you bein
g here alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have my guests and my art.” She motions to the room around her, which is packed with her paintings and sculptures, some finished, some still works in progress.
“But—”
She waves her finger between us. “You and I are two different people.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you hate being alone and I enjoy solitude. Sometimes I’m so lost in my head that I expect to find your dad outside that door, waiting for me to finish.”
I stand and turn around. “That’s what I’m saying. There could be a man on the other side of that door. One to massage your shoulders and feet after a long day of sculpting. One who will make you dinner and make you feel special.”
“Stella?”
I look over my shoulder.
“Is this about Kingston Bailey?”
My hands twist around one another, knotting and pulling. She always could figure out when something was on my mind. “I’m dating his friend. Well, not really dating. I’ve been on two dates with the guy, but he’s super nice.”
“But?”
“It’s complicated.”
“There are so many men in this state, why are you always choosing his best friends?”
I turn around to make a sharp comeback, but when our gazes collide, my bravado fails. She’s right. How do I keep finding myself in these situations? “I told the guy I couldn’t date him, but he didn’t accept no for an answer. Besides, Kingston was adamant he doesn’t care.”
She laughs. “Do you see this ending like it did with Kingston and Owen?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Kingston says he only wants to be friends with me. But still, he just has this way with me. And it’s still there after all these years.”
“What do you mean?” She tilts her head.
“When he’s in the room, I feel so transparent. Like he knows every single thing about me, every thought in my head. He knows what excites me, what I hate, what I love.”
She nods and smiles. “So why aren’t you dating Kingston?”
It’s a valid question. One I don’t have an answer for—except for the excuse of what happened our senior year. It’s my fault the course he’d charted for his future had to change. My fault he never attended college. I’m the reason he’s jumping out of airplanes into burning forests.
When I say nothing, my mom speaks up. “Go have fun at the wedding. Try not to go down that wormhole of the past. Each day is a fresh start.” She nudges me. “My present is on the table. Give my regards to them, but if I go to that wedding, I’m going to lose my vision for this piece and it’s important for me to finish it.”
I nod and step in to hug her, but she’s smarter than me, keeping me at arm’s length so I don’t get paint all over my dress.
I climb into my SUV to drive to the church, and it’s like the universe wants to dig that rusted knife into my gut to make sure I remember what happened, because Tracy Chapman’s “Give Me One Reason” plays on the radio. I’m there at that party our senior year when everything that had been simmering for years finally boiled over.
“Want anything to drink?” Owen asks, already stepping toward the keg in the kitchen.
“No, I’m good.” I scour the living room of the house party. This is the third party that we’ve been to tonight, but this one makes my heart thump harder because Kingston’s truck was parked along the curb.
“Hey, Stella.” My friend Jenny comes to my side. “Aren’t you dying to get to New York?”
I nod. I’ve been accepted to NYU for the fall semester, and although I hate to leave my mom, I can’t stay here and become the kind of doctor I want.
“I thought you and Owen weren’t a thing anymore,” she says, following my vision to him now doing a keg stand.
“We aren’t, but we’re still friends.”
We’ve already decided neither one of us wants a long-distance relationship. At first, we agreed to take it day by day, but I know Owen well enough to know that after I get on that plane, I won’t be on his radar anymore. The breakup is probably too amicable for us being together for a little over a year, which says a lot.
I talk with Jenny for a bit about how she’s going to Idaho, along with a few of our classmates. Owen is sticking around and opting for community college. Kingston hasn’t told anyone where he’s going, but my assumption is he’ll stick around too.
Owen never returns, but I catch him standing by the keg, talking to some guys from the baseball team.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I say to Jenny.
I weave between people dancing in the hallway, but my feet freeze when I spot Kingston, a beer held to his lips and Renee Quayle at his side. She’s caging him to the wall.
I slip past by them to the bathroom. “Excuse me.”
“Hey, Stella,” Kingston says, nodding at me.
“Oh, hey, Stella,” Renee says.
“Hey, guys.” I smile and grab the doorknob to open the door, but it’s locked. So I lean against the wall to wait, wishing I could disappear.
“Come on. My parents aren’t home.” Renee probably thinks she’s whispering, but my guess is the Solo cup of spiked punch in her hand isn’t her first drink.
“Nah, we’re graduating soon. Don’t you want to hang out with everyone?” Kingston asks.
“I only care about hanging out with you.”
I glance at them from the corner of my eye and see her slide closer to him, her hand running down his chest.
“I’ll just come back later,” I say, sliding past them to escape the feeling that someone has their hand gripped around my throat, squeezing.
“Hey.” Kingston grabs my wrist. “Hold up. I need to talk to you about something.”
“King!” Renee screeches.
He looks at her as if she came out of thin air, and I wonder how many beers he’s drank tonight. “Give me a sec and then we’ll continue this conversation.”
Renee smiles, appeased. “Make it quick.” Then she bounces off down the hall.
The bathroom door opens. Kingston grabs my hand, saying a fleeting hello to whoever was in there, then drags me inside and locks us in the bathroom.
My gut knots. “We can’t be in here alone.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t give a shit about Owen. I have a surprise. You still going to New York?” He puts his arms on either side of my waist, pinning me against the counter and my heart rate picks up. He doesn’t look drunk.
I nod.
“I just got a partial funding to Bentley University. It’s division two, but they want me to pitch for them. It’s, like, four hours away from you.”
I haven’t seen him this happy in forever. His energy and excitement burst out of him like the popped cork of a champagne bottle. “Okay…”
“Okay? We can finally be together, on our own. You told me last week how much you were going to miss me when you left.” He steps closer to me. God, he smells so good.
“What about Owen?”
“Fuck Owen. Jesus, Stella, you know how much work I did to make this happen? How many strings Austin pulled for me? I did it for you.” His fingertips land on the bare skin above my waist, and shivers run up my spine. He rests his forehead against mine. “Aren’t you happy? I thought you’d be happy.”
I close my eyes and inhale the smell of his cologne. The same kind I have a sample of in my keepsake box at home. “I am, but this thing has caused so much trouble already.”
“What has?” He inches closer and my body aches for him to kiss me, to touch me.
“Us. You and Owen are acquaintances at best now, when the three of us used to be inseparable. What will this do to him if we get together?”
“Fuck, Stella. No one gave a shit what it would do to me if the two of you got together!” He backs away from me, his hands going to his hair.
Guilt floods me like a dam burst because he’s right. But he never told me he felt anything for me. I thought my f
eelings were one-sided and I was confused when Owen asked me out. But Owen told me that he’d cleared it with Kingston.
“I thought you wanted this like I did,” Kingston finally says.
We’ve never had a conversation about us being together. Sure, there’s this underlying current of want that’s like a live wire between us, but he’s never actually said the words.
“I didn’t say I don’t. I don’t know. I’m just surprised and—”
His lips are on mine before I can finish speaking and at first, I melt into the kiss. His tongue eases into my mouth with a gentleness I didn’t think he possessed. When our tongues meet, a current rushes through my body and centers between my thighs in a dull throbbing of need. His hands skim over my ass and presses me closer to him and that’s when I come back to myself and the reality of our situation.
I press on his chest and pull away. “We can’t.”
He stares at me for a second, betrayal in his eyes. “Forget it!” he yells, and whips open the door. “I’m an idiot.”
Owen stands there with his fist raised as though he was about to knock. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing.” Kingston slides past him and heads to the kitchen.
Owen looks at me, and I stare back at him, probably looking as guilty as I feel. “Fuck this, Bailey. Why the hell were you in a locked bathroom with my girl?” He follows Kingston’s path to the kitchen, and I rush to keep up.
“Last I checked, she’s not your girl anymore,” Kingston throws back at him over his shoulder.
“Let’s go. It’s nothing.” I pull on Owen’s arm, but he yanks it out of my grasp and I fall back, hitting the counter and the cabinets.
“Ouch,” I mumble.
Kingston whips around and asks if I’m okay. “What the fuck, man?”
Kingston moves to come back to me, but Owen shoves him with both hands and Kingston stumbles out onto the deck.
“I didn’t do anything,” Owen says. “You’re the one who needs to explain why you were in the bathroom with her.”
“It’s none of your business,” Kingston says. “It’s between Stella and me.” Kingston looks over Owen’s shoulder and winks at me.