by Claire Adams
“Oh, no. One thing about my stepfather is he was private. He was never one to boast about his accomplishments or his gift-giving. He just wanted to do it. He was a good man in that regard,” he said.
“Sounds like it,” Angela said.
“Do you have any questions for us?” he asked.
“Just one,” Angela said. “How do we get started?”
“Well, that question is for my vice president. Stella?”
“You’ve done a fabulous job of outlining exactly what you need,” I said. “I can run through this paperwork pretty quickly, draw up some totals for my business partner to look at here, and then we can get you rolling. You can write a check, or you can use your company card on our mobile kiosk,” I said.
“Oh, a mobile kiosk! That makes things so much better. Would it be possible to get receipts with that?” she asked.
“Of course. I could take your email and email them to you straight from my phone,” I said.
“Wonderful. Then that’s what we’ll do,” she said, smiling.
It took me almost two hours to draw up the figures for Christian to look at, and the entire time he and Angela talked. She laughed at his jokes, and he smiled at her stories, and I felt a pang of jealousy grip my chest. I saw the way her hand lightly settled on his knee. I saw the way she was looking at him. I saw the way her eyes sparkled when Christian leaned back and crossed that long leg of his over his knee.
I told him to buy the suit because of how presidential and important it made him seem. But now, I wanted him back in that baggy suit that did him no fucking favors.
But of course, he tailored that, too.
And holy fuck, he had looked incredible in it Saturday night.
We double-checked the figures and ran them by Dr. Laszlo before she paid and got on her way. In this single transaction alone, we had garnered enough for our operating costs for the next three months, and I was ecstatic. She bought gloves and stethoscopes and ACE bandages. She bought BAND-AIDS and wheelchairs and crutches. She bought just about everything she would need to fill her practice to the brim, and I couldn’t have been happier. We had nailed our first client, and I couldn’t help but walk out of that coffee shop proud.
Even I had to admit that I didn’t realize exactly how much it took to really start a practice.
Well, Christian had nailed our first client.
“How are you so good at talking with people?” I asked.
“What?” he asked.
“In the meeting. I couldn’t gather my thoughts. I knew what I was trying to communicate, but it was like my lips didn’t get the message. How do you do it?” I asked.
“Stella Harte is asking me for advice?” he asked. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Sorry I asked,” I said as I ripped my car door open.
“I’m kidding; I’m kidding. Look, do you really want to know?” he asked.
“Yes, I do,” I said.
“Like, truly really?” he asked.
“Cut the shit, Gunn. Yes,” I said.
“Then, I’ll help you understand tomorrow,” he said.
“What does that mean?” I asked
“You’ll see tomorrow. Right now, I have to meet with the contractors over at the store. They’re installing some plumbing for our offices. I’m hoping to put a little bathroom up there for us to use,” he said.
“So, you’ll tell me all your secrets tomorrow?” I asked.
“You got it,” he said as he popped the trunk of his car.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Giving Angela her welcome-to-the-family box,” he said.
And as I watched him walk over to her, I grumbled when her eyes lit up. Her hands brushed against Christian’s as she took the box from him, and I could see her eyes giving him one last run-over as he turned and walked away. Christian wasn’t a piece of meat to be ogled. He deserved better than that.
But, I could’ve sworn I saw him walking a little taller back to his car.
I dipped into mine before I could catch his eye and wondered what he had planned for tomorrow. Why did it have to wait? Why couldn’t he just tell me now? Surely it wasn’t a laundry list of things I had to do to work on this, right?
Either way, I was anxious for what he had planned tomorrow.
Chapter Nineteen
Christian
I was excited about teaching Stella something. In the entirety of us growing up, there had never been a moment where she had ever come to me for anything. She always knew everything, always understood everything, and always knew how to operate everything, even if she was wrong. She could do no wrong, she couldn’t get anything wrong, and if she was wrong, she argued until it seemed as if she was right.
So, I was reveling in the fact that she had asked me for help. She had not only recognized a lack in her abilities, but she had felt comfortable enough asking me for help.
I had to admit; there was a swell of pride that welled within my chest yesterday when she asked.
I walked into the office ready to go, and Stella was standing there with a cup of coffee. She held it out to me before she leaned her back against the hallway wall, and I grinned at her before I took a sip.
“So, what is this magical advice that had to be postponed until today?” she asked.
“All I can tell you now is that we aren’t starting out today in the office. Come on,” I said.
“Wait. Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see. Oh, and you’re riding with me today,” I said.
“Don’t I get a choice in that?” she asked.
“Do you want to be better at speaking with people or not?” I asked.
“Why can’t I know where we’re going?”
“Because if I tell you, you won’t come,” I said.
“Seriously, Christian. Where are we going?” she asked as she opened my door.
“Stella, shut up and get in the car,” I said.
We rode in silence as we wound through town. I could tell by the way Stella’s leg was jiggling she was painfully nervous for what was about to happen, and for a split second, I thought about telling her. A part of me hated to see her like this, anxious and unaware of what was going on, but that was part of getting her to understand.
Public speaking was never about how you talked to people. Public speaking was all about the nerves that came with how you thought people would interpret you. It’s a self-conscious mechanism bred underneath years of self-esteem issues, and for the first time, I was getting a glimpse of that part of Stella. She was nervous. Afraid. Trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She felt threatened, but she wasn’t angry about it.
She was pushing herself into a dark corner, hoping no one would look.
But, I was looking. I was watching her body shake in the fear that was blanketing her. And, so long as she asked me for help, I would help her.
Even though I knew she wasn’t going to enjoy what I had planned.
We pulled into the parking lot of a park, and I saw her confused gaze pan towards me. I parked the car and got out, and I was shocked when she followed my lead. She didn’t ask any other questions, and she didn’t wonder out loud why we were at a park.
She was, yet again, waiting for me to make the first move.
“Do you know why we’re here?” I asked.
“Not a fucking clue,” she said.
“You know all those times my mother and I would go to the park?” I asked.
“Yeah. Every Wednesday evening and Saturday afternoon,” she said.
“We weren’t going to play,” he said.
“Then what were you doing?” I asked.
“She used to bring me to crowded parks just like this one and make me talk to people in the crowd,” I said.
“Wait. She what?”
“Yeah. She’d made me talk to both individual people and to large groups. Randomly. About anything,” I said.
“Aren’t mothers supposed to teach their c
hildren never to talk to strangers?” she asked.
“She didn’t just abandon me here,” I said, chuckling. “But, she never wanted me to be scared of talking to other people. She was scared her entire life, especially after what my biological father did to her. She didn’t want me growing up with that fear.”
I could feel Stella’s eyes on me as I talked, and for the first time since I was a child, I felt nervous about talking. I had her full attention, and I could see the empathy in her eyes, but there was still that twinge of fear.
She was putting together what I was going to ask her to do, and the tremor in her hands began to grow with every passing word I used.
“I’m not talking to a bunch of random people in a park, Christian,” she said.
“Stella, your fear of talking to others has nothing to do with your ability to talk,” I said. “It has to do with how you think people will perceive you.”
“Well, yeah,” she said. “I’m going to look and sound like an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. The only requirement is for you to introduce yourself and talk about something you enjoy,” I said.
“I’m not doing it.”
“Do you want to run this company with me to the best of your ability?”
“What?” she asked.
“Do you want to run this company with me the way I believe you can?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then go pick a random crowd of people, introduce yourself, and start in on a topic you’re passionate about,” I said.
“Christian.”
“Stella,” I said as I grabbed her face. “Stop thinking and start doing. Your brain is going to be the death of you if you don’t put it aside sometimes.”
“Fine,” she said.
I watched her walk up to a crowd of unassuming people, and I followed up behind them as she took her place. The tremble in her hands was visible even from where I was standing, and part of me wanted to reach out and save her. I wanted to pull her into my arms and take all the nervousness away. I wanted to tell her that I would do the talking from now on if she didn’t feel confident about it so I would never have to see her as self-conscious as she was right now.
But, she drew a deep breath before she began speaking, and with each passing word, a smile of pride grew on my face.
“Hey there, everyone. I’m uh, I’m Stella Harte.”
The people slowly simmered down their talking and turned their gazes toward her, and I could tell a few of them were sizing her up.
“Just stay out of your own head, Stella,” I murmured.
“When I was a little girl, there was this tree I used to read under. It was a massive weeping willow tree whose branches hung down almost to the ground.”
Her eyes looked back at me, and I urged her forward. People were beginning to murmur, and some were turning back to their own conversations, and I nodded for her to continue before she cleared her throat.
“I would crawl underneath that tree with a book, and I would pretend it was my own fantasy world. See, when I was growing up, I wanted to be a princess. But, I wanted to be a princess that saved the prince. I wanted to wield my own sword and slay my own dragon, and I wanted to do it in this pretty little dress and my long, flowing hair.”
A few smiles began to bloom on the faces of the people she was talking to, and more people began to gather just to hear her talk.
“Even though I was reading books about princes slaying monsters for their princesses, I imagined the opposite. I’d let those weeping willow branches cover me from the fantastical reality painted within the book, and it would give me the silence I needed to reimagine this world someone had written for me. I told myself that, one day, I would write a book where the princess was slaying the dragons for the prince, and I’d be able to make the king and queen proud enough for them to give me their son’s hand in marriage.”
Her eyes flickered back to me, and I could tell she was more comfortable. The tremble in her hands had stopped, and the fear had fallen from her eyes. Replacing the fear was this breathless sort of confidence I couldn’t remove my stare from.
“Then, there was a moment. A moment where my stepbrother had fallen off his bike and tumbled down the hill. I could hear his laughter turn to screaming, and it ripped me from my book as I listened to him call out for his mom.”
I felt the smile drain from my face as the memory of that tumble came rumbling back to my mind.
“He had broken his leg, and he was crying out for help. And, I was too scared to go help him. There I was, sitting in my own little fantasy world, dreaming about helping someone, and I couldn’t peel myself away from my own fear to go be the princess I was always dreaming of being.”
I felt tears crest my eyes before I pulled my gaze to my feet.
“That was the day I realized I didn’t understand how to push past my fears. I didn’t understand how to get past the paralyzing moment where adrenaline floods your system, and you need to make a choice. My stepbrother was calling out for help, crying for someone to help him, and I couldn’t move.”
I looked back up at her and saw a tear streaming down her face, and I knew she had done it. She had conquered so much more today than I ever thought she could, and all it did was make me respect her more for the woman she had grown up to become.
Holy hell, her father would be proud.
“So now, I’m trying to repay him for my inaction. I’m trying to conquer a fear that has held onto me for years. A fear that held me back in college, and a fear that’s holding me back from living up to the potential my late father thought I could rise to. And I hope my stepbrother sees that. I hope they both do.”
“We do,” I whispered. “We do.”
“Thank you for listening to me today. I hope I didn’t bore you too badly.”
The crowd that had grown from 10 individuals to 50 clapped as she walked through them. She hooked her watering gaze with mine as she ran through the crowd, and when she reached me, she jumped into my arms. She wrapped herself around my body while my arms held her close, and the entire time the crowd clapped for us.
For her.
For the story she was willing to tell them while exposing her soul.
“Your father would be so proud of you,” I said into her ear.
I felt her nuzzle against my lips, and they puckered to press the lightest kiss to the outside of her ear.
I released the hug before things got any more intimate. I could feel my body yielding to her the way it did Saturday night, and the flush trickling down her neck told me the same story. She felt what I was feeling from the moment she threw her arms around me, and as the clapping died down and everyone dispersed, all I could do was swim in her eyes.
Those eyes I had wanted to wake up to that morning.
“I’m proud of you,” I said. “And you have no reason to be sorry.”
“Hearing you scream like that, Christian…”
“It was a very long time ago. Obviously, I’m alright,” I said, smirking.
“Can we get out of here and go get breakfast now? I didn’t eat before I came into the office this morning,” she said.
“You don’t want to try for a second speech?” I asked.
“No, thanks. I’ve had enough for one day,” she said.
“Well, you did really well. And I meant what I said. Your father would be very proud of you.”
“Are you proud of me?” she asked.
And as I looked down into her eyes, I had to resist the urge to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.
“Extremely,” I said.
Chapter Twenty
Stella
After everything that transpired yesterday, I needed to go talk with Daisy. I needed to tell her everything that had happened since Greyson and I split, and I couldn’t think about how she might judge me. I could still feel Christian’s lips on my ear after that damn speech in the park moment, and I had to talk with her now.
The only issue was
, this was her Saturday to work.
“Hey, Stella!” she said as she threw her arm around my neck. “You came to visit me at work, I see.”
“Figured you could use the company,” I said.
“Oh, no. I know this trick. You’ve visited me at work three times, and all three of those times you needed some serious advice.”
“I did not,” I said.
“The first time you needed help choosing your life path since your father didn’t want you getting a business degree. The second time you needed help deciding whether or not to pursue Greyson, and the third time you were ranting about whether you should take the paramedic job or go straight into your Bachelor’s,” she said.
“Fine, alright. Whatever. But really, you look good,” I said.
“And you do, too, considering the shit Greyson just pulled,” she said. “Wait a second, is that why you’re here? You’ve got another man in your life, don’t you? Oh, you’re getting over Greyson by getting under someone else!”
“Could you say that any louder?” I asked.
“Come on. I have to make my rounds. We’ll talk while I do them,” she said. “Start with his name.”
“You sure? That’s sort of the punchline,” I said.
“Come on. His name, please,” she said.
“Christian.”
Daisy stopped in her tracks and slowly turned her head toward me. She eyed me up and down for a long moment before we went into the first room, and I sat down on the empty bed while she did a basic checkup on the elderly woman sitting in her chair in the room.
“Your stepbrother, Christian,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding.
“Okay. Beginning, please,” she said.
“When I caught Greyson with that other woman, I was fuming. I went to the office, and Greyson followed me. Christian ended up blocking my entire office doorway and told him off. You know, in the way Christian tells people off,” I said.
“Okay. So, what happened after that?” she asked.
“He offered to take me to dinner. He said we could talk a bit about work, and it would help to get my mind off Greyson and his bullshit,” I said.
