Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

  “Love?” He bent to kiss her cheek, his voice tight.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” she admitted with a shrug. “Surprise.”

  “Shit, El. It’s not what you think…” he trailed off, looking back where the redhead sat studying them.

  “That’s too cliché for us, don’t you think?” Stella stared into the clear liquid in her glass. Is this really how this will end? He cheats on me? “I don’t blame you, you know,” she said honestly. “I just wish you would’ve told me.”

  He sat down heavily on the barstool next to her. “Blame me for what?”

  She motioned toward the redhead. “Wanting someone else.”

  George’s head fell to the bar and he sighed audibly.

  “You’d be crazy not to.” Stella finished her drink in a gulp and pushed herself away from the bar. The wall she’d been fighting for over a year started rebuilding itself. “I’m going to see if I can get an earlier flight.” Stella turned and walked out of the bar, her hand shaking as she called a cab.

  George grabbed the phone out of her hand and disconnected the call. “You know, it really pisses me off that you’re just willing to give up on us, El.” He started walking toward the elevators with her phone.

  She followed him and stood, looking at him, wishing things were different; wishing that she was different. She took in his wrinkled clothes, tired eyes and disheveled hair. “What’s going on with you?” She asked as she followed him into the elevator.

  “I’ve been working for 11 days straight. I’m worried about you. I need to write a good story so I can continue to do what I love.” George leaned against the wall of the elevator, his head resting against it.

  “I’m not wearing any underwear because I thought as soon as we saw each other we’d attack each other.” Stella looked down. “I didn’t know you were being attacked by other women.” She exited the elevator and waited for him to show her to his room. “Who was the redhead?”

  “Jessica.” George opened the door and waited for Stella to go in ahead of him.

  Stella stood in the entryway near the door in case she wanted to escape this conversation. She’d rather just leave and not confront this very uncomfortable situation. She knew their relationship was too good to be true and it was sort of a relief to have George end it.

  “So, are you fucking her?”

  “Fuck, El.” George was exasperated. “No. And why do you even care if you just want to leave me?”

  “George, I don’t want to leave you, but I will if that’s what you want,” she said sincerely; she would do whatever he wanted her to do.

  “Why would you think I’d want you to be anywhere other than with me? After everything? I don’t know how much more I can do to show and tell you how much I love you.” His voice was weary, his eyes tired, his fight almost non-existent.

  “That woman was about to kiss you in a bar.”

  “But she didn’t, because I didn’t let her. She thought because I took this assignment that it meant I wanted to be with her,” George explained. “It didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?” Stella moved from the entryway into the room.

  “Well, she’s the one who requested I be put on Senator Ashby’s press detail,” he answered.

  “Why would she do that?”

  “She felt like she owed me.”

  “For what?”

  George took a long breath. “I don’t know, El. For breaking my heart.”

  “What?” Stella was reeling. “Oh, shit. Wait…that’s the Jessica. The one who didn’t want to get married so you broke up?” It was all clicking into place now. The reason why George got this job in the first place was because of his ex-girlfriend.

  “That’s the one,” he confessed.

  “And she offered you this job and you didn’t feel the need to tell me you’d be working with your ex-girlfriend.” Stella was fuming.

  “Fuck,” he groaned. “I honestly didn’t think it was important. It’s been years.”

  “Well, obviously she feels like it was just yesterday.” Stella couldn’t believe George didn’t mention that when he took the job. “She knows we’re together. I mean, everyone on God’s green earth knows we’re together and yet she was still in your face?”

  “I hope you trust me enough to know that I wouldn’t do anything like that to you, El. I’d never cheat on you.” George sat on the bed. “And honestly, you seem hell bent on us not working out anyway. Is that what you want? Us not to work?”

  Stella stared at him. “Don’t fucking make this shit about me. Of course I want us to work. I just acknowledge it may not.”

  “Because if you just plan on giving up, tell me now and we can go our separate ways. I meant what I said, I want you in my life. I love you. But it’s getting real fucking old that you keep thinking its better if you walk away.”

  “First of all, you’re the one that had your ex, a hot redhead, in your face and didn’t tell me that she not only got you this job, but would be accompanying you for months.”

  “Nothing happened and nothing’s going to happen.” George put his head in hands. “Unfortunately, I’m utterly and completely in love with you.”

  “You,” she said quietly, moving to sit on the opposite side of the bed.

  “You what?” He looked at her intensely.

  “It’s better for you. I love you and I want what’s better for you, not me. You’re it for me; it doesn’t matter if you leave me or not. I will never love anyone else.” Stella’s walls were trembling from her indecision of having them up or down. The space between them on the bed was a few feet, but the gulf she felt between them was too far to measure.

  “Then fucking fight for us. For me. Tell me you aren’t going anywhere. I CAN’T CONTINUE TO WORRY THAT YOU WILL LEAVE ME, STELLA!” he yelled at her from across the bed.

  “But I’m just waiting for you to leave me, George,” she admitted.

  He took in a breath. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

  “I wanted to come surprise you and make you happy. Instead we’re doing this.” She gestured toward him.

  “I love that you’re here. She means nothing to me. She was my past. You are my everything.”

  Stella got off the bed and walked to George, pulling him to her. George wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her onto his lap.

  They stayed that way until George leaned back and pulled her with him. “Let’s go away together,” he said into her ear.

  “Like, forever?”

  “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” He chuckled. “I was thinking for the weekend.”

  “Okay. Where you taking me?”

  “A surprise. I may have something up my sleeve.”

  “I’m not sure I care about what’s up your sleeve,” she smiled, her fingers inching to his waist, “it’s what’s down your pants that I care about.”

  “I love you and I’m sorry.” George’s lips on her ear sent chills down her spine.

  “I know. Me too.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I Don’t Get Paid to be Nice

  She’d only been able to stay with George a day and a half before she had to get back to work. Her trip to Iowa had the Twittersphere buzzing.

  #fbibeautyoncampaigntrail

  #bartenderhasbeautychasinghimnow

  #fbibeautythrowinghatinring

  She’d nearly fell out of her seat at the last hashtag. There was no way she’d ever get into politics. Stella tweeted.

  No way in hell I’d run for office. #toobusychasingbartender

  Monday had been full of putting out legal fires. Senator Miller called four times and she finally took his call. All he wanted was the status of his case. She was professional, but really didn’t have any new information for him and was getting pretty fucking tired of holding his cheating hand.

  “Senator, I’ve told you on a number of occasions that I’ll call you as soon as we get a date set for a hearing. Have I done anything that would indicate that I wouldn’
t do what I’ve said I would do?”

  “No. I just—” he started.

  “Well, then I’ll call you with a date as soon as I get one,” she interrupted.

  “I bet no one’s accused you of being nice, Ms. Murphy.”

  Stella smiled to herself as she looked out her window onto K Street. “I don’t get paid to be nice. I get paid to be right.” She hung up her phone and finished a Motion for Summary Judgment she’d been working on for four days. Her phone dinged and she saw a notification she had a message in Voxer. She tapped on it as she pulled files out of her desk.

  “Love, I need you to do me a favor. Go to the office at Finnegan’s and get the checkbook out of the safe. I need you to pay a bill for me.”

  “Fucker, do you not have online checking?” she asked into Voxer. She was just giving him shit.

  “Not for that account. I totally forgot to pay a bill this month out of the other account and I’m here. Can you do it tonight?”

  “I guess so.” Stella looked at the file in her hand, contemplating the firm’s next move. “You want me to call you when I’m there so that you can tell me the combination?”

  “Okay. What time do you think you’ll get there?” he pressed.

  “Fuck, George I don’t know.” She didn’t understand why it was such a big deal.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just getting shit from Kelly. I totally forgot to pay their mortgage this month and they got a notice.”

  Stella forgot her file and looked at her phone as if George would appear. “What?”

  “Please just do this for me and we can talk about it later.” George’s voice was resigned.

  “You’re paying your sister’s mortgage?” Stella was baffled. Kelly was an adult. With a job. And a husband. Why the fuck was her big brother paying her mortgage?

  “Fuck, Stella. Please,” he begged, clearly not wanting to get into it with her about all that he did for his family.

  “Do you pay all your sisters’ mortgages?”

  Silence.

  “You do, don’t you?” She was stunned. This wasn’t anything she’d even contemplated.

  “Can we please save this conversation for face to face?” he pleaded.

  Stella relented. Really, in the grand scheme of things, this was nothing and definitely something that could be discussed later. “Fine, George. I’ll call you later.”

  “Love.” His voice was full of relief.

  “Love.”

  “When is this happening?” Denise asked.

  Stella was sitting in her usual spot, gazing out the window. She was getting to the point where she looked forward to and dreaded these appointments at the same time.

  “That’s a matter of top secret clearance and you don’t have that, so…”

  “Stella, you can continue to play cat and mouse with me or you can genuinely make efforts to get better. Be better.” Denise sipped her tea and watched Stella with her doe eyes.

  “I’m already better.” Stella didn’t know if she believed this or that she could even get “better,” but it felt good to say. And she was at least feeling “less bad” since she started seeing Denise.

  “No. You’re not. I know you think you’re ugly, lost, not good enough for George, and you’re in a job you aren’t sure you want, but you have yet to open up the closet that holds all the things that scare you so I can help you and protect you.”

  “All of the things that scare me are out of my closet.” After their last session, Denise knew most everything that happened with Jamie and Jack, except that they were the same person. “I answered all your questions in our top secret session and the only thing I didn’t get a chance to tell you about was trying to get my shooter to admit to it while I’m recording it so that I can finally be free of him.”

  Denise was unable to keep the shock from her face. “But your dreams are getting worse. Maybe it’s the impending showdown that’s causing such stress on your psyche.”

  “A showdown?” She scoffed. “I was shot. I’m scared of the person who shot me. I was kidnapped. I’m scared of the person who kidnapped me. I’m scared that the person who shot me and kidnapped me will hurt George or someone else I love. I’m so fucking scared all the time. I’m tired of being scared. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m okay with being the broken, bent, fucked up person I am, but I worry George will see all that and leave me.”

  “Why is it that you think George will leave you? We always come back to this. I just don’t understand. He’s been with you through the last several years and he’s told you repeatedly he’s not going anywhere.”

  “I…I just feel it. I know that doesn’t make a ton of sense, but I just…George is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. His soul is sunshine and Nutter Butter cookies. There’s nothing ugly, scary, or mean in him. Me, on the other hand—I’m the imitation Oreos that are just pretending to be real cookies.” Stella shook her head. “There’s no sunshine there, only the moon. The moon is always hiding part of itself.”

  “Well, the cookie analogy is well thought out. I do love Nutter Butters and hate those cheap imitation Oreos. Let’s dig a little deeper. Why do you feel like a cheap imitation of anything? You’re a woman who has gone through many different traumas in her life. Your traumas are not only for you to deal with privately, but out in the open for the entire world to see and judge, which makes everything more difficult and you extra strong for dealing with it with such finesse.”

  “I feel like I’m just pretending to go through this life until I get killed.” After the words left her, she realized what she said. She inwardly cringed because she’d meant every single word. Stella looked around like she couldn’t believe it. She’d never thought of her herself as biding her time until she died. It wasn’t even just death—everyone dies—she was waiting to be killed. How fucked up can one person get?

  Denise cleared her throat. “I actually think it’s very rational to feel like you’ll die after your fiancé died and you were shot during a bombing. I think you’d be delusional if you didn’t have some sort of residual fear about your mortality. Now we just need to help you deal with this precarious thing called life.”

  Stella looked at her phone. “My time’s up.” She stood and walked toward the door.

  “Stella. We’ll get you through this.” Denise took a sip of tea and then smiled.

  “See you next week.”

  As she walked back to her office she contemplated the words she’d just spoken out loud. She was waiting to be killed. I’m waiting on Jamie to kill me. It was true, but nothing is really true until you speak it out loud. Once it’s spoken, then you have to acknowledge it and deal with it. Fuck.

  She got back to her office and buried herself in her work until her alarm went off, letting her know she needed to get home to let Cooper out before her yoga class.

  After yoga, Stella drove to Finnegan’s and got a check out of George’s safe for his fucking sister’s mortgage. She couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the fact that grown ass women needed their brother to pay for their shit. Kara’s husband had a job. Kelly and her husband had jobs. She just didn’t understand; maybe she never would. As she got back in her car, her phone rang.

  “Hi, Dad,” she answered.

  “Hey, Stella,” his voice was strained, “you doing okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” She drove home to grab Cooper before heading back to Patrick and Billy’s. “You?”

  “I’ve had better days.” He sighed into the phone.

  “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know, I just…” his words got lost by a bad connection.

  “Dad? Are you there?” she called into the phone.

  “I’m worried about you. I don’t like George not being there with all this shit going on. I’m worried about something happening to you that I can’t control.”

  “Shit, Dad, if you’re worried about that, you may get an ulcer,” she joked. “I know all of this is taking a toll on you and Mom. I rea
lly am trying to handle it with the FBI and have everything worked out. Jamie is back in the DC office and just walking around like it’s nothing.” She shook her head at the audacity of the bastard.

  “I know, I talked to Patrick,” he said, voice bordering on rage. “I can’t even believe the size of this guy’s balls.”

  “Dad, I know. I can’t believe that it’s the same guy that spent Christmas with us for four years. I’ve been trying to reconcile this for a year and a half. It’s not possible.”

  “I hurt for his family, Stella. I went to that funeral too…” His voice trailed off. “I just don’t know what to think about this.”

  “I’m sorry we have to think about it at all.”

  He sighed again. “How’s your hand?” he asked, changing the subject, or so he thought.

  “It’s okay. It’ll be fine. The cast itches like a bitch though.”

  “You coming home for Christmas?” he asked hopefully.

  “I don’t know.” She hadn’t even thought about Christmas. “Let me talk to George.”

  “Alright. I gotta go.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “I love you, Stella.”

  “You too, Dad.” She hung up, worried about her dad’s tone. That was a stranger conversation than usual.

  Stella walked into Patrick and Billy’s house, still clad in her yoga wear. She peeled off the fleece she had worn to Finnegan’s and tossed it on a chair. Cooper was sitting in the middle of the kitchen watching Millie’s every movement at the counter. He didn’t even get up to greet Stella for fear of missing a stray scrap.

  “Hey,” Millie said, looking up.

  “Hey.” Stella bent down to rub Cooper’s ears and down his back. Cooper’s tail swished the floor rhythmically, happy to see her as always. When he didn’t get up to meet her, worries about his age came to the forefront of her mind, but she shoved them back down. Coop was going to live forever. “Your day good?”