“I love you, Bellas.” My chest tightens as I stare down at my girl. “I miss your mom. I wish she were here. You need that. A woman in your life. Someone you trust. Someone who will hold your heart and hear your words and keep them both safe. I try to be that someone for you, but I know you need more.”
I press my lips to her forehead. She needs more.
Is that why I’m so drawn to Elle? Because of the way she is with my daughter? The way my daughter is with her? No. I was drawn to her before that. Now I’m a planet, orbiting her. She’s a sun I never cared I was missing until she shined her light on me and my daughter.
Closing the door behind me, I walk down the hall, glancing down at my ruined shirt with a smile. And when I look back up again, Elle’s light is on in her bedroom. She was waiting for me. Her window is closed, so I don’t bother opening mine, but she’s standing there in a skimpy pink tank top and matching shorts. Her skin glowing and her hair wet from her shower.
I fucking love her dark blond hair and those bright hazel eyes.
She’s radiant, and I’m falling. So hard I don’t think stopping is an option anymore.
I blow her a kiss, and she smiles before shutting out her bedroom light, so I do the same. In the darkness I go about getting ready for bed, taking a quick shower to wash off the sweat and sex still clinging to me, brushing my teeth, and then getting into bed.
I plug in my phone and catch the text I missed.
Good night : )
Elle.
I reply with the same. Catching myself smiling once again. She’s the air I haven’t breathed in so long. Life I never wanted to live again. I’m addicted. Addicted to her. To this feeling. To just plain old feeling again.
Now I just have to make sure I don’t fuck it up. For any of us.
21
“Dance it out now, girl,” I sing to Stella, who’s shaking her butt around the kitchen, both of us bopping our heads to the beat of Wild Minds. “God, I love this song.” I hold up the wooden spatula in my hand that’s coated in homemade marinara and sing the final notes of this ballad along with Jasper Diamond.
“My uncles know them,” Stella announces as the song comes to a close and an Ed Sheeran song comes over the Alexa. I freeze, wooden spoon in mid-air.
“Your uncles know Wild Minds?”
She shrugs like it’s no big thing, and I’m sure to her it’s not. Her uncles are billionaires. Hell, her father is a freaking billionaire too, which I guess by extension makes her one? I don’t know how the money train works with these people. I grew up in a middle-class home in a middle-class neighborhood, and anytime I went and spent more than five hundred dollars on anything the first year I was married to David, I broke out in a cold sweat and hives.
“Yeah. I mean, Uncle Kaplan did some charity work with Jasper Diamond, and Grace was going crazy because Uncle Carter took her to meet them at their last concert here in Boston.”
“Grace?”
“Uncle Carter’s… girlfriend, I guess.” Another shrug as she mixes the ricotta with the spices and herbs she added for the lasagna we’re making. “They live together, and she just told us a couple weeks ago she’s pregnant. But I’ve known her my whole life because she’s Uncle Oliver’s best friend.”
Wow. That’s a mindfuck. “Cool,” is what I come up with. This family, man. There is a lot to them. I wonder if I’ll ever meet any of the others aside from Luca. “All right, let’s layer this lasagna up, and then I’ll put it in the oven so you can go study for your math test.”
She groans, but that’s why we’re in her house today cooking instead of mine. It was not my plan to do that. Landon and I had initially agreed all cooking would be at my place. But Stella asked if we could do it here so she could study here since all her things are already here, and it’s not like I could say, sorry, hon, your dad doesn’t like me in your house, and my relationship with him is a hot mess of complicated.
And is that even still true after what went down Saturday night? We texted some on Sunday, but I haven’t seen him since he left after our furniture-breaking sex. I texted him to let him know what Stella wanted to do, but I never heard back.
So yeah. I’m a little wary about being here in the man’s kitchen, making a mess, and rocking out on his Alexa. I don’t pretend that the sex meant more to him than simple jealousy and scratching an itch and getting it out of our systems. We’re not a couple. This is not a relationship. Hell, we’re not even friends.
I feel weird being here.
“I hate math,” she grumbles as we make a layer of partially cooked lasagna noodles over the sauce. I would have liked to try making homemade noodles, but I’m not a miracle worker, and there’s only so much time to get this done in.
“I know, but it’s a big test.”
“Calculus sucks balls.”
I snicker. “You’re the smart one taking advanced calculus. That’s high school level stuff there.”
“I know. I just want high school to be easy, so I’m loading up now.” She pauses for a second before going back to adding the layer of meat on top of the ricotta. “Do you think high school will be easier? I mean, do you think I’ll make friends? Find people who like me for me? Layla will be there, and she has friends, but I’m not Layla. I’m not as fun or outgoing as she is.”
“First off, I think you’re a lot of fun. I have a blast every time we hang out. But all I can say is I hope so. The high school is bigger, which means new kids. New opportunities to make friends.”
“I don’t care if I grow boobs, but all the girls make fun of my flat chest.”
“You’re thirteen, Stella. Most of those girls have flat boobs themselves. They’re just looking for anything they can use against you because you intimidate them. You’re beautiful and smart and for better or worse, your family name brings out the suck-ups and jerks.”
We finish the lasagna and cover it with foil, and I get the lovely task of lifting the heavy dish into the oven to bake. We already made a salad—using a million fresh veggies from her garden and greenhouse—and the garlic bread.
“I haven’t come out yet to anyone in my school.”
I nod. I already figured this. “Do you want to?”
“I don’t need anyone making more fun of me.”
Oh, this poor girl.
I shut the oven door and reach out, bringing her into my chest, hugging her close because sometimes, that’s all you can do. Be there for someone when they need it. I rock her gently to the music playing in the background.
“You do it in your own time when you’re ready. And whenever you decide that is, you have the love and support of an amazing family. Plus Layla. Plus me. When people make fun of you, that’s a reflection of themselves. Not you. It’s their anger, their insecurities, their crap. You feel me on that? It’s them taking their crap out on you. You are special and wonderful, and I’m so proud of you for owning who you are. Whether you choose to share it with anyone else or not is your call to make.”
“I know. I just…” She hugs me tighter, and I fight my threatening emotions before they get the best of me. “I just want to meet new people in high school.”