“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, smiles 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.