Stella, already halfway through her second glass of champagne, couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t passed down some of their money-managing skills to their son.
They were right on time, and the fundraiser was already in full swing. Northern NJ’s wealthiest were all in attendance to support TAPS, the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, which had been founded to offer compassionate care for those grieving the loss of a loved one that had died serving the country. Dozens of ten-seater round tables had been set up all over the expansive room with white tablecloths and dramatic, white feather centerpieces that soared into the air like angels spreading their wings. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead as scattered conversation and laughter dominated a room that was filled it to the brim, to the point that Stella didn’t even notice a woman running up to them until the sight of Troy’s mother, Corrine Armstrong, slapped her right in the face.
Stella’s eyes exploded to twice their size. “Corrine!”
Corrine was a short, portly woman who always had a gift for to dressing for her size, as evidenced by the cocktail length, double-layered royal blue Stella McCartney dress with a cinched waist that hugged her in all the right places and avoided all the wrong ones, coming to a flowy stop just above her knees. The look was simple and elegant but still managed to make Stella feel underdressed in the eggplant Calvin Klein cap-sleeved dress she’d gotten at Marshalls. Rocco had raved about the form-fitting dress that stopped just below her knees when she’d modeled it for him in the store, but right then she suddenly felt like she belonged at a job interview and not a high-end gala. Even Rocco seemed better dressed than her—which she hadn’t even believed was possible—in the simple tuxedo he’d had since high school.
“Oh, give her to me! Give me my baby!” Corrine cried, taking Blue from Stella’s arms without asking anyone’s permission, and smattering her cheeks with rampant kisses as if she couldn’t decide which cheek was more delicious. Her shoulder length blonde hair bobbed as she did. “Oh my beautiful grandbaby, I could just eat you alive, yes I could! Muah, muah, muah! I missed you so much!”
Rocco and Stella smiled as Corrine loved on Blue, surprised that Blue didn’t burst into screams the moment she’d been taken from Stella’s arms, the way she did for most people.
“She missed you,” Stella said, noting the gleeful smile on Blue’s face as well as in her eyes, which were the same electric azure as Corrine's.
“Oh, she looks more and more like me every day, doesn’t she?” Corrine beamed, finally placing Blue on her hip and squishing their cheeks together.
Rocco and Stella nodded before accepting kisses hello from Corrine on their own cheeks.
“You do know this isn’t your baby anymore, right? You know she’s never leaving my side again, right?” Corrine cuddled Blue closer. “Never, ever, ever, again. Mine forever. I hope you understand I’m not yanking your chain. You understand that you can literally never have her back?”
“She’s all yours.” Stella’s eyes widened. “Really.”
“Keep her for as long as you want. Months, even years,” Rocco said.
Corrine blinked up at him. “And since when are you in the position to give me permission about how long I can keep my grandbaby, Rocco Wolfe?”
Stella and Rocco both held their breath, giving each other wide-eyed looks.
Corrine burst into laughter a moment later, breaking them out of their stunned reverie. “Oh, the two of you never could take a joke. So serious. Come on, come and sit down, Blue’s granddaddy wouldn’t shut up about her the whole trip. Kept complaining about how six months was too long to be out of the country, but after Troy’s passing, I just feel like every moment is precious, you know? If we don’t see the world now, when can we? Tomorrow might never come.”
Rocco and Stella nodded along with Corrine as she guided them toward table one, situated all the way at the other end of the bathroom, right next to the stage. Corrine had always done most of the talking, ever since they were kids, which was actually one of the things people liked most about her. Even with perfect strangers, there were never weird or uncomfortable silences with Corrine, which left the rest of the world free to relax without the worry of having to think up something cool or interesting to say. Corrine was more than happy to say it all. Stella had so many memories of Corrine making friends with even the surliest people, no matter where they were—the grocery store, the stoplight, even at a Pep Boys when their car had broken down during a road trip to the Hamptons. Corrine had talked their outrageous repair price down by nearly 50%, a feat Stella had deemed nothing short of a miracle.
Stella felt her teeth clench as they came closer to table one where Justin, DJ, Troy’s father, and a few of Troy’s closest cousins, aunts and uncles sat. Everyone at the table looked toward them as they awaited their arrival. DJ, wearing a sparkling gold cocktail dress, gave Stella and Rocco one look as they approached and rolled her eyes, going back to her plate of appetizers as if she hadn’t seen them at all. Justin didn’t even look up from his phone, bored to death of Rocco having to see him every day at work.
When Stella felt Rocco’s hand on the small of her back, she looked up at him and shook her head softly.
He removed his hand while giving her a look.
“I can’t even touch you?” he whispered.
“Rocco,” she chided, her eyes dashing all over the throngs of people that saturated the room. “We talked about this. Not today. Not here.”
He raised his eyebrows. “But soon?”
“Yes, soon. I promise.”
They shared another look, but Stella broke her eyes away when she smashed into Corrine’s back accidentally, not having realized she’d already stopped at their table.
“God, sorry, Corrine. In my own world, I guess.” More like held captive by the wounded look she’d just seen in Rocco’s eyes. How could he expect her to tell the family the truth about their relationship, that day, of all days? She didn't have time to dwell on the answer, too busy smiling softly—and genuinely—at Troy’s father, Greg Armstrong, as he stood from his seat and proceeded to give Blue the same amount of gleeful, incessant kisses as Corrine had a moment earlier. After loving on Blue for what felt like ages, Greg moved to Stella and gave her a hug as Corrine re-took her seat. Like Corrine, he was overweight with blonde hair and blue eyes. Always the family member forced to dress up like Santa to entertain the kids at Christmas. But Greg had never minded. Always quiet and easy-going, he didn’t take himself too seriously and was always down for a good time.
“Greg, I missed you.” Stella smiled into their warm hug. “How was Europe?”
“Beautiful, but glad to be back home,” Greg said before moving his eyes to Rocco. “Rock…” He squeezed past Stella to hug Rocco as well, clapping a hand on his arm when he pulled back. “Heard about the FBI, son.”
Rocco nodded with a look of regret.
Stella noticed the look, and her stomach sank.
“Just wasn’t the right time, you know?” Rocco sucked in a breath.
“It’s never the right time, son. If you spend your entire life waiting for the right time, the whole thing will pass you by like a flash. You’ll look up one day and realize you’re an old man like me, having done nothing you planned before it was too late.” Greg clapped his arm again. “I’m sure you gave it another go when they re-opened right? They haven’t had back-to-back acceptance windows this close together in years—if ever!”
“Wait…” Stella looked back and forth between them. “The FBI re-opened applications?”
Rocco scratched the back of his head, eyes shifting away from her.
“Handful of months ago,” Greg said. “Unbelievable, right? The last time took four years to re-open.” Greg looked back at Rocco. “So, did you re-apply, son? Tell me you did. It’s all you’ve talked about since you were five years old.”
Stella and Greg both watched Rocco intently, waiting patiently for his answer.
When he didn’t respond rig
ht away, Stella’s heart skipped a beat. “Rocco?”
“Stella!” She jolted at the sound of a voice, eyes shifting over Rocco’s shoulder just in time to see Ivy waving frantically from where she was struggling to squeeze through the thick crowd of people in a teal-colored shift dress.
Stella sighed in relief and raced over to Ivy with a smile, meeting her with a hug that took the air from her lungs.
“Happy to see you too, girl,” Ivy croaked. “But I can’t breathe, and this wig isn’t glued down, so chill.”
“Oops, sorry.” Stella pulled back with a laugh, locking arms with Ivy and guiding her to the table where everyone else had already taken their seats, as the gala was about to begin.
When Stella took the seat between Ivy and Rocco, Greg motioned to them. “Stella, you should switch so Rocco can sit next to his date.”
“Oh, no, Ivy isn’t Rocco’s date, she’s mine,” Stella said, causing laughter to rise around the table. “Sorry, Ivy, this is Troy’s dad Greg, his mother Corrine, his brother Justin, sister DJ…” Stella introduced Ivy to the rest of Troy’s extended family as well before motioning between them. “Everyone, this is Ivy, my best friend.”
Every eye at Table 1 flew to Stella’s, stunned, looking at her like she was crazy, especially DJ.
“Best friend isn’t a person,” Rocco explained. “It’s a tier. So don’t worry, DJ.”
Soft laughter rose around the table and Stella bit back a laugh, nudging Rocco softly. DJ, however, looked far from unworried or relieved by Rocco’s words, rolling her eyes again before going back to her drink.
“I’m actually her receptionist. Or personal slave. Either one. I’m convinced Stella only keeps me around at this point to sweep the floors and help her operate the power drill so…” Ivy teased.
“I treat you like a queen. You know that,” Stella said.
Ivy chortled but didn’t respond, probably for the sake of keeping her job.
“She refuses to hire contractors of any kind,” Rocco said. “I’ve lost count of how many near-death experiences I’ve had doing all the repairs in that place.”
Corrine listened in awe, bouncing Blue in her lap, who was in the midst of trying to shove Corrine’s entire chain necklace into her mouth. “Yes, DJ’s told us all about the spa! I was delighted to hear that you and Rocco bought it and are running it on your own?”
“All Stella,” Rocco said. “I just signed for the loan.”
“Stella.” Corrine’s breathed, voice laced with amazement. “What an incredible leap of faith. Incredible bravery. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more proud of you, my dear. And I thought Troy had spoiled you rotten.”
“Oh, he did,” Rocco said.
Stella nudged him, unable to hide her smile even as she pinched her eyebrows at him.
“Well, how’s it going?” Corrine beamed.
“It’s…” Stella drew in a breath. “Flourishing. We’ve been making a profit since the day I took over, staying on the up and up. Sometimes I want to pinch myself because I’m sure it must all be a dream. That it couldn’t possibly be happening so seamlessly, so fast.”
“That’s how it always happens when it’s your dream,” Rocco said softly. “Your true passion.”
They shared a look.
“Hey, how’d that statistics final pan out?” Ivy asked. “You never told me.”
“B+.” Stella beamed.
“Stop,” Ivy said. “For real? ‘Cause girl, the way you were carrying on about that class.”
“It was an absolute horror story. I think I’d rather be chased down a dark, foggy street with Michael Moore on my tail, wielding a butcher’s knife, than ever take another statistics class again.”
“You’re back in school too?” Greg asked.
“Rocco convinced me to go back. I told him he was crazy, and I might actually prove myself right.”
“Or you might graduate and prove yourself wrong.” Rocco met her eyes. “Why do you always need someone else to believe in you before you’ll believe in yourself? Isn’t the spa proof enough of the amazing things you’re capable of, Armstrong?”
Her eyes softened in his, voice lowering to a whisper. “Thanks.”
What felt like a moment of sweet eye contact to Stella must’ve felt like years to the others because when she looked away from Rocco and found all eyes on her, most of them wide and dumbfounded, her spine straightened to the point of snapping. How long had she and Rocco been smiling at each other? It had to have been quite a while if the looks she was receiving right then were any indication.
“I’ve never seen Rocco say a kind word to you in all his life,” Corrine laughed. “Heck, when Greg and I left for our vacation, you two could hardly stand each other. Now you’re like two different people.”
“Yeah, like two teenagers in love,” DJ grumbled.
“Justin.” Stella tried to change the subject, eyes flying to Justin’s. “You’re almost finished with grad school. Help a sister out. How are you making it without gouging your eyes out?”
“Oh, the eye-gouging happens weekly.” Justin straightened the bow tie of his tuxedo, smiling as laughter rose around the table. “Sometimes bi-weekly, depending on how many exams I have coming down the pike.”
“So the pain isn’t going to stop anytime soon, is what you’re telling me?”
“Not until you’re walking across that stage, sis, sorry.”
“Wonderful,” Stella said. “Fantastic.”
“I know you can do it, dear,” Corrine said.
“We have no doubt,” Greg added. “And neither would Troy…”
Every chest at the table rose, and all eyes seemed to lift to the ceiling of the ballroom. As if they were all wondering just where Troy was, what he was doing, and if he was watching them—listening right now—from all the way up there.
“Papa!” Blue snapped everyone out of their reverie as she pointed across the table with a smile. “Papa Wak!”
Rocco choked on the drink he’d just taken a swig off, sending a spray of champagne flying from his lips. Every shocked eye at the table followed Blue’s pointer finger and flew to him as he proceeded to choke on what little liquid was still left in his throat, falling into a heap of coughs. Both Stella and Greg patted his back as his coughs moved to heaves, everyone gaping at him.
Even as her own stomach bottomed out, Stella waved a hand at the stunned faces across the table, laughing nervously, speaking loudly enough to overwhelm Rocco’s hacks. “We’re trying to teach her the word ‘Papa’ using pictures of Troy at the house and it’s… kind of backfired. She calls everyone ‘papa’ now. She calls Rocco papa. She calls me papa. She calls Ivy papa. She even calls the checkout boy at Shoprite papa.”
Corrine tittered softly as she looked down at Blue.
“Papa Wak!” Blue held out both hands to Rocco this time, her tiny fingers clawing for him.
“It’s weird,” DJ chimed in. “I had her the whole time you were in Savannah, and she never called me Papa.”
“Me either.” Justin shook his head.
Stella’s cheeks heated up. “Well, Rocco’s still living with us, you know, still helping out. So naturally she’s become this big fat stinkin’ uncle’s girl and calls him papa more than anyone else. She doesn’t actually mean it. Right, Rocco?” When Stella looked at Rocco, who’d finally found his bearings, and saw that his green eyes actually appeared hurt at her words as he loosened his bowtie, she almost slapped him. Was it so hard to play along when Troy’s entire family was sitting there looking at them like they’d just committed the capital sin?
“A big fat stinkin’ uncle’s girl,” DJ repeated, after taking a sip of her wine. “Even though he really isn’t her “uncle” at all. Let alone her father.”
When the hurt in Rocco’s eyes seemed to double at those words, Stella threw DJ a poisonous look.
“DJ,” she warned.
“Stella, you never told us you needed help,” Corrine breathed while cuddling Blue closer, who’d
already given up on getting her ‘Papa Wok’s’ attention and was re-focused on chewing a hole through Corrine's necklace. “Are you in trouble?”
“No! I don’t need help. Not help help,” Stella breathed. “Rocco just… well… the thing is…”
The sound of the microphone on the stage backfiring saved Stella’s life as it grabbed the attention of everyone in the room—including the ones interrogating Stella at that moment—as the host of the fundraiser appeared on the stage. He spoke for several minutes, explaining that the event was in honor of Troy and every other fallen American who’d given their life in one way or another for their country. He littered in a few pretty good jokes here and there to keep the tone of the room light and did an incredible job setting the stage before he motioned to Corrine.
“And now I’d like to invite Troy’s mother Corrine, up to the stage to say a few more words?”
Applause rose around the auditorium as Corrine handed Blue to Greg—who took her with a smile and cuddled her close—and stood, making her way up to the stage. She smiled graciously at the crowd and waited for the applause to die down before she began speaking.
“Wow, thanks everybody,” Corrine played her hands together. “My husband always tells me I’ve got enough mouth for the both of us…” She paused as her accidental joke landed, filling the room with laughter. “But whenever I get up on a stage like this my gift for gab seems to go right out of the window. It’s probably as charming as he can ever find me these days…” She tried to laugh, but whatever thoughts were plaguing her head made it impossible, her blue eyes glimmering more than the chandeliers hanging above. “So, instead of boring you with my nervous rambles about why this event is so important to me, and why it means so much to me that so many of you showed up today to support TAPS, I decided to show you today, why I support TAPS, with a quick video of my late son Troy Armstrong…”
Forbidden (War Book 1) Page 28
