Everything Between Us (23 page)

I carry my toolbox down the hall and meet Liza in a sitting room just off the dining room. Somewhere in this mansion, Stella is waiting for me. I haven’t seen her since Saturday, and it feels like too long.

When I see Liza’s face, I stop dead. She looks absolutely stricken. “What’s happened?” I ask her, terrified that she’s sent Stella away.

Liza bites her lip and crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh, Daniel, I need to talk to you. I know we were going to plan something this week, but …”

Oh no. No no no. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I of all people know what it’s like when someone you love finds someone else, and I’m so sorry about this …” She wipes away a tear that I’m pretty sure isn’t there, and I nearly sag with relief—this isn’t about Stella.

“What are you saying?” I ask in a hushed voice, showing nerves I don’t feel.

“On Saturday, after you left, I was feeling so lonely.”

“Yeah?”

“And Markus called, just to see how I was doing.”

YES.
“And?” I ask sharply.

She stares out the window. “We got to talking, and we agreed to meet for dinner. One thing led to another …”

I sit down quickly, letting my box crash to the floor. “One thing led to another …?” He did exactly what I asked him to. Maybe he’s not an asshole. Not all the time, at least.

Her expression crumples. “You have to understand that Markus and I share a past, Daniel! It’s hard to fight against that.”

They were fuck buddies for a few months last year, but obviously, Liza twists things into whatever shape she finds most satisfying. “You were with him,” I choke out, blinking fast and willing my eyes to water. “You … you’re choosing him over me?”

“It’s not that simple!” she cries, and I want to laugh. I’ve never been so happy.

“It sounds pretty simple to me.” I put my head in my hands and heave a big sigh. “It’s over, then.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I really enjoyed our time together, darling. And you don’t have to worry. I won’t let this interfere with your commission.”

“It’s not about that!” But it is, and now I’m keeping my head down because I’m grinning.

“I had my lawyer rewrite the contract for five paintings,” she says quickly.

Holy shit. Five paintings. I clear my throat. “I brought you sample sketches. I really wanted you to like them …”

She pats my head. Like I’m a dog. “I’m sure I’ll love them. That’s why I set the price at four thousand each. I wanted you to put your heart into them.”

I moan softly. “So you decided to rip it out?”

She pulls my head toward her and stands over me, cradling it to her belly. I might be laying it on too thick. I give her a quick squeeze and lean away from her. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’ll focus on my work.” Five paintings at four thousand each. Twenty fucking thousand. Holy shit. That’s rent and car payments for a year and then some. “I’ll give you something really good, Liza. It’s what you deserve.” I arrange my face into a properly sorrowful expression and stand up. “I’m glad you found someone who could give you want you needed.”

She nods, a tiny smile pulling at her lips. There’s no accounting for taste. I can’t imagine what Markus is like in bed, and I don’t want to, but something about it must work for Liza, thank God. “But I’ll always have fond memories of our time together.”

“Me, too.” Because she brought Stella into my world, and as scary as that is, I can’t regret it. “I’d, uh, better pull myself together before I go see Stella.”

“Of course.” She hands me the contract and I read over it. Like she always does, she’s thrown money at me to get me to go away, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I sign the contract and give it back to her. “I’ll send you a copy.”

“Thanks.”

She flings her arms around my neck as I turn for the door. “You’ll find someone special one day, Daniel, and she’ll heal your broken heart.”

“I hope so,” I say in a strangled voice, trying hard not to laugh. “See you later.” I pull away from her abruptly and stride out the door, afraid I’m going to lose it and ruin everything right there. I walk down the hall, forcing myself not to run.

Stella’s standing at her windows, staring out at the lawn. She turns as soon as she hears me, a wary expression on her face. “How’s your mom?”

Something in my chest loosens. “She’s better. Going home tomorrow.” I sigh. “So I can’t come over—”

“Of course you can’t. It’s fine.” I can tell by the way she says it that she really means it.

How is Stella so different from her mom? Liza focuses on what’s going on for
her
, and other people are an afterthought. Stella has so much going on, and the first thing she does is make sure
I’m
okay. She actually seems to care if my mom is okay, too.

“Markus was here,” she says softly. “All weekend.”

I frown. “Did he bother you?”

She shakes her head. “He was avoiding me, I think. They spent most of their time in my mom’s room.” She wrinkles her nose.

I set my box down and walk over to her. “I’m glad.”

“Not jealous?”

“Of him?” I laugh. “It’s exactly what I wanted him to do, Stella.”

“Because of me,” she says.

“Because of you,” I reply, touching her cheek. “How are you?”

“If you’re telling me my mom is going to let you go without drama, and that’s what you wanted, I’m good.” She says it so plainly, no games. Like she trusts me, like she doesn’t hold the fact that I’ve been with her mom against me, even though I know it’s incredibly weird.

“I owe Markus big time.” I tip her chin up and taste her mouth with a slow kiss. She’s been drinking coffee and … “Have you been baking again?”

She smiles against my lips. “Chocolate croissants.”

“They must be amazing, because you taste incredible,” I mutter, desire for her lighting a fire inside me.

“So if cake is edible happiness, chocolate croissants are …?”

An edible wish to strip her naked and run my tongue over every inch of her body, apparently. My fingers close around her hips, and I pull her closer. She moans softly as I move against her.

And then, from down the hall, I hear Liza call out some request to their housekeeper. I step away from Stella quickly, my cock hard and hot and aching. She leans on the windows, her lips parted. “We could … we could go down to my room. If you wanted to …”

God, she’s adorable. And I
totally
want to. But—“I can’t get caught in your room, Stella. Your mom may have kicked me to the curb, but it’s still too soon for her to know anything about us. I’m supposed to have a broken heart, and that makes her feel better about herself. We have to be really careful.”

“But if I could leave the house …” She wraps her arms around her middle and looks over her shoulder, out at the world.

If she could leave the house, we could be together anywhere. In a restaurant, where I could watch her eyes light up when she tastes something new. In a park, where I could watch snowflakes get caught in her hair. In my studio, where I could listen to her laugh as I show her my latest project. In my apartment … “Things would be different,” I say quietly.

She stares out the window for a long time. “What if I try this therapy … and it doesn’t work? What if I fail? Does that mean you won’t—”

I take her hand, because I can still hear Liza down the hall, and I can’t risk anything more, not when we’ve just gotten the chance to figure this out together. “I’m not going to disappear.” At this point, I don’t think I can.

She squeezes her eyes shut. “But you said you didn’t want to be with me unless I was better. And that makes sense, but—”

I draw her to me, sliding my thumb over the back of her hand. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just said I couldn’t sit around and not encourage you to try. Because you’ll be happier. Because you deserve to have your freedom back.” Because I’d be selfish if I wanted her to stay holed up here, a beautiful, smart girl in a glass cage, spending her days waiting for me to show up.

She takes a deep breath. “I called the therapist this morning. I have an appointment for Thursday at two.”

I grin. “Then I’ll be here to pick you up at half-past one.”

“I already arranged a ride,” she says quickly. “Romy’s going to take me.”

I push down my feeling of disappointment. And of wondering—why doesn’t she want me to go with her? I thought she trusted me. It’s stupid and caveman of me, but I wanted to be the one to pull her through this. I almost ask, but I don’t want to make this harder for her than it already is. “Oh. That’s good.”

Our eyes meet, and my ridiculous envy of Romy falls away. There are so many things between us, and it makes me feel like I’m falling. I bow my head and kiss her fingers, though it’s all I can do not to pull her against me again. “What do you want to sketch today? We have to do some of that, or your mom’s going to wonder why she’s paying me.”

Stella’s lip curls mischievously. “I thought she was paying you to service me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“But I want to,” she whispers, running her fingertips from my chest to my stomach, sending chills coursing over my skin.

“You do it without even trying.” I draw in a slow breath and lean in. “And when you come to me, on my turf, I’ll show you exactly what it does to me. But it has to be there, because I’m going to make you scream my name.”

Her hand stills. She stares at my chest, caught between her fear and her desire. Then her eyes meet mine. “That’s quite an incentive,” she says in a shaky voice.

Yeah, no kidding. As we settle ourselves on the floor with my sketchpad open in front of us, as I hand her a pencil and set a picture of a woman sitting on a park bench down on the carpet, as Stella starts to draw with her tongue between her teeth and then laughs at herself as she gets the proportions all wrong … I want this every day. I want more than this every day. And if Romy is right, Stella will have the whole world before her, and we could share that.

The thought doesn’t hit me until I’ve given Stella a quick kiss goodbye, until I’m in my car and heading up the drive, and that’s good, because it kicks me right in the stomach, so hard that I bow over the steering wheel: if Stella has the whole world at her feet, why the hell would she choose
me
?

Chapter Twenty: Stella

I pace the carpet, trying to slow my racing heart—and failing. My hands trembling, I manage to dial Romy’s number, and she picks up immediately. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I was just about to leave to pick you up,” she says.

“N-no,” I choke out. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I’ve been up since midnight, thinking about going out today, knowing this was coming.

She’s quiet for a moment. “We should have planned for this. Have you called Heather?”

“I don’t know her. I don’t know …” I press my lips together and sink to the floor. I can’t go through this again.

“Have you called Daniel?”

“No.” And the thought of him is like a hand closing around my throat. I can’t believe I’m such a fucking failure. He made sure he had my cell number before he left yesterday. But when he called last night, I put on a great show, and we talked for a long time about everything but the start of my therapy today.

“Would it help if you talked to him?”

Yes
, but—“I don’t want him to know,” I whisper. He’ll be so disappointed in me, and I can’t stand to hear that now. “I don’t want him to feel like he has to come and save me.”

“I see,” Romy says. “Okay then.” She hangs up.

I look down at my phone, think for a half-second about calling her back, and then decide not to. She’s let me off the hook. I go to my chaise and curl up, a tiny part of me relieved that I won’t be going to the session, the rest of me utterly defeated. I’m so exhausted that my eyes feel like they’re too big for their sockets. I slow down gradually, my terror slipping away, pressed down by black despair, and lower my head to my knees.

“Knock, knock,” sings my mother. “A friend of yours is here.”

My head jerks up, and a quick glance at the clock tells me it’s half past one. I’ve been asleep for half an hour. Romy strides into the room, still wearing her coat. My own coat, which she must have grabbed from the entryway, is slung over her arm.

“Hey, Stella,” Romy says.

“What are you doing here?”

She sits at the end of the chaise, ignoring my mom’s questioning look. “I heard how scared you were and I felt like I needed to be here.”

I blink at her. “Really?”

She smiles at me. “I don’t want you to miss this chance, and I was hoping you’d trust me enough to try. Just to try.”

I look into her eyes, which are empty of anger or frustration or impatience. If I don’t try, I’ll never know. I won’t be able to tell myself I did all I could. “We’ll go and come right back?”

She nods.

“You’ll stay with me?”

Another nod. “The first step is always hardest, I know.” She stands up and offers me her hand. There’s the tiny cursive script of a tattoo on her wrist, and my gaze gets snagged on it. She sees me looking and pushes up her sleeve.

Out of difficulties grow miracles.

“That’s beautiful,” I say.

“It’s also true,” she replies.

It would be a miracle if this helped me. It would be a miracle to be able to drive to Daniel’s apartment and show up at his door. I can’t imagine it—but if I could have that? Worth a try. I take Romy’s hand, and her grip is strong, her fingers cool.

“You’re being very brave, Stella.”

My mother frowns. “You’re not going out wearing that, are you?”

I get to my feet. “Mom, the fact that I’m going out at all should make you happy. It’s what you wanted right?”

“Only if you’re not embarrassing yourself.”

Romy blinks at her, then hands me my jacket. “There’s no dress code where we’re going, and it’s important that we be on time.” She waves at my mom and walks from the room, heading for the side entrance.

“You’re going out with her when you wouldn’t go shopping with me?” Mom asks, folding her arms over her chest.

Yeah, because it feels safer, which is sad, actually. “I’m just trying something, Mom. It may be only this one time. And I know you’re busy.”