by Diana Nixon
“Let’s talk about your desires when you are sober,” Stella said, giving me a hard look. “Now, get into the damn car.”
“Like being bossy, huh? That makes two of us. Only I like giving orders in bed.”
“I bet you do.” She went around the car and got behind the wheel, saying, “I’m waiting!”
I shook my head and got in, smiling at her through the rearview mirror. “Why the backseat?”
“Because it’s my car, I like it a lot, and I don’t want you to puke on my dashboard.”
“So, you prefer I puke on the back of your seat or on the floor?” I asked, giggling because I wasn’t serious. I wasn’t going to vomit. “I’m more than fine, Stella. Unlike you, I can at least stand on my feet without tripping over things and passing out on the side of the road.”
“All thanks to me. Who knows how much more you would have drunk if I didn’t come to take you home.” She started the engine and pushed the gas pedal, making the tires squeak.
“Easier there, Schumacher! I thought you didn’t want me to puke in your car.”
But she didn’t listen, she just pushed the pedal harder, speeding up, and turning up the volume of the radio.
“Thanks for listening to me,” I muttered tiredly, leaning against the back of my seat.
I was still trying to figure out what made me stay in Braiwood. I told Stella that I would leave soon, and I knew I needed to leave soon, but I just didn’t know how to make myself do that. Not even the book tour could make me rush off. All of a sudden, the thought of not seeing Stella ever again, made me feel so lonely. And I never minded loneliness. As a matter of fact, I usually welcomed it.
Only now, going back to New York didn’t feel right. Of course, I could ask Stella to go with me, but something was telling me that she wasn’t ready to leave Dillon. There were so many questions about her past that I didn’t know the answers to. But I did want to get them.
“Why did you ask me to stay, Stella?”
We came to a stop in Dillon’s driveway and I stepped out of the car, waiting for Stella to do the same.
She locked the car and went around it, taking her time answering my question.
“I don’t know, James . . . I really don’t.”
I remembered saying the same words to her. Obviously, neither of us was going to admit the real reasons behind our decisions and actions. Was her desire to see me as strong as my own inability to let her go?
Let her go . . .
Melody’s words rang through my mind once again. I refused to let her go, so she decided to leave in a very special way. What if Stella asks me to let her go? Will I be able to do it?
Chapter 10
Stella
Not that I expected James to stop acting like a selfish pig, but I at least hoped he would wait for me to finish my work so we could go back home together. Especially considering his words about not being done with me. But by the time my article about Mr. Collins was ready, he was nowhere to be found.
I went back home, hoping to see him there. I even thought about letting him read the article before showing it to Dillon, but then I changed my mind, hoping he would like my version of his writing-and-occasionally-fucking-around lifestyle.
I was a little angry at him. For someone who was supposed to be just a fleeting memory from my days in Braiwood, he somehow managed to turn into a huge part of my life here. And I hated that. Not because I didn’t like spending time with James, I did like it, a lot. It was because of the things I felt whenever I was thinking about him.
After I didn’t find him at Dillon’s, I began to worry. I even went to check his room, and was kind of glad to see his belongings still there. At least he was still in town; I doubt he would run off without taking his luggage. Then I went downstairs, hoping to find something edible in the fridge, but as always, beer and cheese were the only food we had. I took some cash and went to the store.
At the entrance, I was met by Mr. Newton, our neighbor.
“Stella! Haven’t seen you for a while. How are things going? I heard James Collins is staying at your place. That must be very exciting . . .”
“Indeed. And things are going . . . work, home, you know? The routine.”
“Do you want me to wait for you to do your shopping? I could accompany you back home.”
“Oh, I don’t want to make you wait.”
“Don’t worry, it will be my pleasure. After Mrs. Newton passed away, I didn’t get many chances to have a walk with a beautiful woman.” He smiled at me.
“Okay, then, I’ll be right back. I only need a few things.”
“Take your time, girl. I don’t rush anywhere.”
Mr. Newton was one of a few people in the entire town who I actually enjoyed talking to. He was a little funny, but very forward-minded, and even knew how to use the internet, which was a very rare talent among men his age.
“Have you read any of James Collins’s books?” He asked, walking next to me some time later.
“Yes, I have.”
“Which one?”
I stared at the man with my eyes wide open. “Just don’t tell me you are one of James’ fans.”
He laughed quietly. “I wouldn’t call myself his fan exactly, but I have read one of his stories. Well, how could I not, knowing that he was going to come to Braiwood for a book signing?”
“My, my, Mr. Newton . . . Who would have thought . . .”
“My wife loved reading. She could spend the entire day reading. Have you ever seen how many books I have in my library? They were all hers. She collected rare editions, so I always knew what present she wanted for her birthday.”
“You loved her a lot, didn’t you?”
“I still do. She lives in my heart and in my soul. And I hope that one day, I will see her again. Even if it happens in a different life.”
I felt a little jealous about the way he was talking about his love. I wish someone loved me as much as he loved Mary.
“How did you two meet?” I asked.
“Oh, it was so long ago . . . But I still remember that day as if it were just yesterday. It was a late September afternoon. I was walking in the park, and I saw her sitting on a bench, reading a book. She looked so absorbed in the story. She didn’t even notice me when I sat down right next to her. Then I asked something about the book and that is when it began . . . We’d been together for almost fifty years. And then she died, just a few days before our fiftieth wedding anniversary. She was so excited for it. She even had a present prepared for me. I found it the day she passed away. It was hidden under her pillow, a beautiful set of golden cufflinks with my initials on them. They were small, but very elegant. As it turned out, she asked our daughter to make them out of a pair of earrings that I bought her when we got married. It was her way to thank me for the years we spent together. I love wearing those cufflinks, even if I don’t need to.”
“Wow . . . That is such a beautiful story.” It took my breath away. “You could write a great book based on it.”
“I’m too old to start something new, Stella. Every new book is like a new page in your life. You write it, and then you turn that page and get to the next one. So I should probably leave writing for people like James. He’s still young, he has a lot to say to the world.”
The only problem was that James Collins didn’t want to tell stories about his own life . . .
“Well, thank you for the company on my walk home,” Mr. Newton said, stopping at his gate. “It was really nice to talk to you, Stella. You remind me of the best days of my life.”
“It was my pleasure. I’ll tell James you read his book, I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear it.”
He nodded, opening the gate. “Have a good day, Stella.”
“You too, Mr. Newton.”
I came home, made a few sandwiches, and went to watch TV, trying to pass the time before James’ arrival. I couldn’t wait to tell him Mr. Newton’s story. Maybe it would give him something truly happy to write about.
/> I waited for a few more hours and then thought it was time to go and find James. Not that I was afraid of him getting lost in Braiwood, it was nearly impossible. Considering the town consisted of about ten streets, no more. And somehow, the first place I thought about, was my favorite and also the only bar in the town.
I spotted him the moment I crossed the threshold of the unholy place, also known as Roger’s. James was sitting at the bar, swallowing shots, one by one. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was here for the same reason I was a couple of nights ago. But that was James Collins – a man who simply didn’t know how to feel things, except for an orgasm obviously. So I thought he just wanted to unwind and have a few drinks.
As it turned out, things were so much worse than I expected. James wasn’t here just to unwind, he had a very good reason to get so damn drunk, and I bet that the reason had a name. Only I didn’t know it.
Stella, wait!” James called, catching me by the hand.
We were standing at the threshold of Dillon’s house and I hoped he was not going to kiss me, not just because I hated vodka and its taste, but also because I wanted James to remember every second with me, just like I remembered every moment with him. Well, except for the night when my physical and mental condition left much to be desired, obviously.
“I wanted to tell you something,” he said, standing really close to me.
“Make it quick. I’m tired and I need to rest.”
“Is Dillon at home?”
“Don’t know. Why?”
“I wanted to ask you to stay with me tonight.”
I smirked. “I thought you wanted to tell me something.”
“And I also need to tell you something. Because I’m sure I won’t have enough courage to do it in the morning.” He ran one palm down my cheek, and stopped at my lips, pressing his thumb against them. “If only you knew how much I want to kiss you now . . .”
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to. I just wanted to say that I have enjoyed every second that we have spent together. And I don’t mean sex. Though that was amazing too.” He smiled. “I mean every breath that I took next to you.” Then he leaned closer and pressed his lips to my forehead. It was a brief touch, but I still felt the warmth spread all over me.
“I think you should sleep it off before you start a new day, Mr. Collins.” I took a step back and unlocked the door.
I didn’t want to stay with James that night. I needed to be alone, at least for the next eight or so hours.
“I will always remember you, Stella,” James said after me.
I turned around and looked at him. He was leaning against the wall in the hall, and for a moment I felt like running back to him, and hugging and kissing him for real. Maybe I could take away the pain filling his eyes now.
“I thought you would leave without saying good-bye,” I said, remembering his words. All of a sudden, the moment and his words felt so final.
“I’m not leaving, at least not yet.”
“Then good night, James.”
“Good night, Stella.”
The silence of my room was searing. I was lying in my bed, with my eyes wide open, and no hope of falling asleep any time soon.
“Damn you, Mr. Collins,” I swore under my breath. “I bet you are sleeping, after all the drinks you had.”
I will always remember you, Stella . . .
He was going to leave. I knew he would leave one day, but the closer we got to the day, the less I wanted it to come. For some strange reason, I let James into my world, faster than I could have ever imagined, and now I felt like my world would collapse without him. I was getting addicted to him. I didn’t know if it was just physical attraction or something more, but I was clearly obsessed with James Collins, and there was no way out of the shit that I got stuck in. Living in Braiwood was supposed to be easy, no love, no relationship, no nothing. Just work, home and peace. Well, no such luck . . .
I fell asleep just as the dawn began to break through my bedroom window. It was too late for real sleep, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. So when I heard someone knocking at my door, I wanted nothing more than to kill whoever was standing behind it.
“Coming!” I said, tossing the blanket away.
“Not until I get into that bed of yours,” James said, drilling me with his stare. He looked pissed, though I couldn’t remember doing anything to piss him off, except for taking him home last night.
“Well, good morning to you too,” I snapped back.
“What the fucking hell is this?” He asked, shutting the door behind him and tossing a bouquet of flowers onto my bed.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “For one smart-balls son of a bitch, you are really stupid, Mr. Collins. What does it look like?”
“Who’s Robert?”
I laughed even harder, recognizing Mr. Newton’s handwriting on the note attached to the flowers. “Why? Oh no . . . Don’t tell me you are jealous, James. We can’t afford jealousy, remember?”
“Thank you again for last night, Stella,” the note said. “I hope we can repeat it one day.”
“Just answer the damn question!” James growled, coming closer.
“You are not my boyfriend; you have no right to demand answers from me.”
“But I won’t let you sleep with anyone while I’m still here.”
“Still is the key word here, right? And then, what? Shall I ask for your blessing to keep living my life after you leave?” If James thought he could control me, with no right in doing so, he was wrong! I was a big girl, and he couldn’t tell me who to sleep or not to sleep with. Period.
“Where were you last night? Before you came to the bar?”
“None of your business,” I said, going out into the hall. The flowers needed a vase, and the only vase in Dillon’s house was in the living room.
“Who the hell do you think you are to treat me like that?”
I stopped and took a deep breath, before I turned to James, saying, “And who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that? I am not your property, James. No matter what your sick and twisted mind thinks.”
“I thought we had an agreement,” he hissed through his clenched teeth.
“What?” I laughed.
“What kind of agreement are you talking about? The I-fuck-you-whenever-I-want-and-then-leave-whenever- I-want kind of agreement? I think I missed the part where I signed said agreement.”
“And here I thought we both enjoyed it.”
“I won’t deny it – I did enjoy having sex with you. So what? It’s just sex, isn’t it? Inspiration for your next book – as you called it.”
James sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We are so screwed, Stella . . .”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” I turned away from him and continued my walk to the living room. James followed me.
“Can you please stop running away from me? I’m not in the running mood today.”
“I’m not running away from anyone, I just need a vase. I don’t want these beautiful flowers to die too soon.”
His eyes focused on the bouquet again, and again I felt like laughing.
“Just tell me who they are from, and I’ll back off.”
“From a man, obviously.”
“How old is he?”
“Much older than you are.”
“I didn’t know you liked older men.”
I couldn’t help myself, I was obviously enjoying getting on James’ nerves. I took the vase and then went to the kitchen. “Tastes differ,” I said, filling the vase with the water. I put the bouquet on the kitchen table and turned to James, “How are you feeling, by the way? I bet your head hurts.”
“Hurt doesn’t even begin to describe it. Do you have any aspirin?”
“How about Bloody Mary instead?”
“Not funny, Stella. I need to write, or I will miss my deadline, and my editor will fry my ass.”
“I wish I could see him o
r her doing that.”
I went to one of the cupboards and pulled out a box with medicines, looking for aspirin. I could feel James watching me.
“No more questions or demands?” I asked.
He didn’t respond.
“Here,” I said, turning around and giving him a glass with sparkling aspirin.
He took the glass and put it on the counter behind me.
“No headache anymore?” I looked at him, puzzled.
“I think I know a better cure for it,” he said, reaching out and pulling me into his embrace. I felt my entire body stiffen.
James’ chest rose and fell against mine. “I hate it when I want something and I can’t have it.”
“No, really?” I let out a shaky laugh. All my senses were on a high alert. I just couldn’t keep calm, with James’ hands wrapped so tightly around me.
“You said you are not my property, and you were absolutely right, Stella. But the question is – why your body thinks otherwise?” He pressed himself harder against me, and my pulse accelerated at the obvious hard-on brushing against my lower body.
“I didn’t know you could read body language,” I said, keeping my eyes locked with his.
“I have many talents, you know?” His lips were dangerously close to mine.
Ugh, for God’s sake, why couldn’t I stop thinking about kissing him?
“Sorry, Mr. Collins, but I don’t have time for screwing, I need to get ready for work.”
He ran his tongue across his lips, moistening them, and then he stepped back, smiling leisurely.
“What a shame . . . I wouldn’t mind being your work for today, Miss Holt.”
I smiled in response, saying, “Maybe next time?”
“Maybe . . .”
I swallowed, and quickly turned around to leave the kitchen, before another ‘cooking’ session could begin.
