“He keeps them like a shrine.”
I jerk around, startled by that.
Her blue eyes are bold. “I don’t remember her, but I know he wishes I did. It makes him sad that I don’t, but I was too young.”
Oh. That’s insanely tragic, and I hurt for both her and her mother and her father. I love that he keeps these pictures for her like that. So Stella knows just how deeply her mother loved her. She obviously loved her with her whole heart, so the idea of Stella not remembering her…
“Does that hurt?” I ask before I can stop it.
She blinks at me. “No one has ever asked me that before, but yes. It hurts. I know it hurts my dad. I’m told stories, and I see pictures, but I don’t remember anything other than the police coming and a lot of photographs being taken whenever I went anywhere.”
An Abbot-Fritz.
Stella is an Abbot-Fritz. A Boston princess whether she’s aware of that or not.
Her father does a good job of sheltering her. I didn’t see much about her when I Googled him. But it’s clear if she wanted to change that, she could have five million social media followers by tomorrow.
“Can you show me your greenhouse?”
She guides me through the house I’m desperate to explore more of but don’t get the chance. And I won’t even get into their grounds in the back because day-um. I’m led through a garden of fall flowers and plants, all beautiful and lush and vibrant, to a large glass structure near the fence line on the opposite side from my house.
“My dad designed it for me,” she tells me as we stand before it. “He sketched the whole thing out for me and had it built. He and my uncles even helped. It’s fully heated, so I can come out here in the winter.”
My heart is so full with that.
“It’s a whole other building.” And by the looks of it, she could feed an entire village with what she grows. This thing is massive.
“I like to read in here so…”
Oh, Stella. How lonely are you?
About as lonely as you’ve been for the last few years, jars into my head.
The moment we enter the space, I’m immediately intoxicated by the scent of earth. Warm, but not hot. Dirt and plants and herbs and flowers and fruits and vegetables. Some in pots. Some in raised beds. Some in planters. There’s a freaking sprinkler system overhead that is set to water the whole damn place.
And in the corner is a nook.
Beanbag chairs and a small desk with a lamp because there’s electricity out here.
I meander my way through, inspecting everything, and once I reach her desk, I hear her call out, “Will you teach me to cook? Like lessons? I see your recipes in our class chat. I know you know how. We talked about it that day when I met you. I can pay you if you want. I have money.”
I spin around, staring at her from across the twenty or so feet that divide us. Alarm bells ring in my head, but I push them aside and focus on her. Not him. “I don’t need your money, Stella. But is that what you want? To learn how to cook?”
She nods, her eyes filling with wonder. “More than anything.”
I can’t deny her, so I don’t even try. “If your dad is okay with it, I’ll teach you anything you want to learn.”
A smile breaks free across her face seconds before the greenhouse doors open, and her father walks in. Not happy at all to find me here.
12
My heart is racing like crazy right now. Strong beats pumping the blood through my veins. My last two patients of the day were a husband and wife, and they canceled this morning. I was grateful. It allowed me to leave work earlier than I typically would on a Wednesday.
Summer rolls and shrimp lo mein for Stella—it’s her favorite. Sushi for me because I can eat it while looking over patient charts.
Only, I knew before I arrived home what I would find.
I watched Stella bring Elle inside on the cameras I have set up. The rest of my drive home, I deliberated what I should do. My entire walk through our house and out through the yard to the doors of the greenhouse too.
What the hell was she doing here?
Why would she come?
For Stella… or for me?
That’s what drove me mad, right up until I opened the doors and saw the answer for myself. She was not there for me. And when I should have felt relief—part of me did—the larger part of me felt this inexplicable rush of anger. Of heat.
Goddammit, why wasn’t she there for me?
And why did I care that she was staring at me like a street kid caught stealing? Nervous yet defiant.
I turn my glare away from the bane of my existence over to my daughter. “Hey, Bellas. What’s going on here?”
“Elle walked me home from school, and I wanted to show her my greenhouse.”
Elle walked her home, but there’s more to it than that. I can see it in the way Stella swivels around to ensure Elle meets her eyes. To ensure whatever message she wants to relay, Elle reads. And the second I see the recognition of it flicker over Elle, I know the two of them already have secrets I’m not privy to.
“Great,” I say when I think it’s obvious from my tone I find it to be anything but.
“Dad?” Stella turns back to me. “Elle likes to cook. Remember, I showed you some of those recipes on our wellness chat. She’s going to teach me how.”
Fuck.
“How about you go inside and start your homework. I’ll be in in a few minutes. You’ll see Miss Wilde tomorrow at school.”
I can feel Stella’s frown, her unhappy face imploring me. She wants to ask if Elle can stay for dinner but knows enough not to ask in front of her. If it were Layla, I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes or even offer it myself. But Elle is not Stella’s friend. Elle cannot be Stella’s friend.
Stella straightens her spine and clears her throat, likely throwing me a death glare I can’t meet because I’m too busy, locked in a visual duel with her wellness and history teacher.
“Sure. Of course. Good night, Elle,” she emphasizes her name, showing me there’s more to this than a student-teacher relationship. “Thank you again for everything today.”
“Always,” Elle promises, and I hate that fucking promise more than I hate her being here.
A blink of an eye. A wrong word. A patch of ice. That’s all it takes. Doesn’t she understand that? There is no always. There is no forever. And certainly not with her.
Stella scurries out, attempting to force my gaze to hers one last time, and I finally relent at the last second before she brushes by me. “Don’t be a jerk,” she hisses under her breath so only I can hear.
Her words hit me like a sucker punch. Still, I make no promises.
I watch as Elle steels her spine, her chin lifting contemptuously. She’s gearing up for a battle I have no interest in fighting. I’ve already lost. Which somehow is more than I can tolerate from her, so I decide maybe I should go a few more rounds because I’ll be damned if I allow her to chip away at more of me.
“I wasn’t planning on being here when you got home. Stella said you work late on Wednesdays. Usually not home until after seven.”
“Typically, I’m not. What are you doing with my daughter? You don’t belong here.”
She makes some kind of annoyed sound in the back of her throat, folding her arms over her chest as she leans back against a table full of potted plants. “You know what I’m doing here. Don’t make it out to be more than it is. She invited me in to see her greenhouse because gardening is obviously something she and I both have in common.”