by Mj Fields
Regardless, they fell apart, and when she walked out, I felt like she abandoned us.
Anger is an easier emotion to deal with than emotional hurt.
The microwave beeps, startling me, a gasp of air leaving my lungs.
“You there?”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m here.”
“Bruno said you’re at the house?”
“Yep, just trying to get it sale ready.”
“Already? I would have thought you and Elijah would be having a reunion of sorts.”
“Yeah, me, too.” I sink the bag of Ceylon into the hot water.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, not really.”
“I’m here if you do, Stella.” I can hear a tinge of sadness in her voice and feel bad about it.
“It’s a long story.”
“I have really great listening ears and plenty of time.”
I pull myself up on the counter. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
I tell her all the things that pissed me off, and then I tell her all the reasons I think I’m being a little over the top.
When she doesn’t respond, I ask, “You there?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m being ridiculous, right?”
“Not at all. I just don’t want to say something that will upset you.”
Ouch, but I deserve it. And honestly, she’s not being bitter. The sincerity is evident in her voice.
“I’ve always appreciated the truth.”
“Okay.” She sighs. “I think your feelings are valid. I also think you’re right—he probably has a lot going on. He’s always been an introvert, and you’ve always been the only one who could pull him out of it. Being apart as long as you have, it’s going to take some time.”
Her pause makes me aware she has more to say.
“But?”
“But I want you to think about whether that’s going to be the type of man you want to raise children with. And if, yes, I’m behind you all the way, Stella Rose.”
“And?”
She laughs. “You always know when I’m holding back.”
“Honesty, Mom.”
“You’ll never change him, but he can change you. And I never want that to happen.”
Tears prick my eyes with the truth in her statement.
“He has a lot of potential. He could give you a great life. He was there for you when your father was ill.”
I smile. “He was.”
“But not as much as your other friends. And if I remember correctly, you are the one he clung to when his father died.”
“If by other friends, you mean Aaron.”
She laughs, and I smile.
“Elijah has much more responsibility than Aaron, so I understand.”
“Okay then.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask.
“It means just what I said. Whatever you want, I’ll support you.”
“I think our love is worth it. And I really think it will be good to have time to focus on my career and finding a place. It’ll be an adventure.”
“I am so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
10
The Past
Missing her for years has taken a toll on me. I put a strain on our relationship, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted. I’ll admit, over the past few years, that distance has been caused by me. I made mistakes. Thankfully none have caused irrevocable damage to what I have planned.
Yeah, we men can be our worst fucking nightmare.
I’ve been putting pieces together. And in doing so, finding answers to questions buried long ago and finding myself.
I’m driven to succeed, whereas before, I was content in simply existing while trying to not let anger affect me in a way that would rub off on others.
No, fuck others. None have ever mattered as much as her … On Stella.
11
Stella
I’m an artist. I design things that someday will come to life in dimensions unseen on a canvas. Yet, here I am.
As Ella Mae Bowen sings about being young, I cock my head to the left and look at my masterpiece. It’s a childlike picture of a mom, a dad, and four kids having a picnic.
“It’s missing something.”
I jump at the sound of Aaron’s voice.
“Do you ever knock?” I cover my heart then pick the paintbrush up that I dropped from the sheet I have lain over the carpet of the dining room, the room that I’m supposed to be painting white. Instead, I am using watercolors to paint memories.
He laughs as he walks past me, holding two bags, and says, “Never had to knock before.”
I set the brush on the paper plate that has become my pallet then follow him into the kitchen.
He sets the bags down and looks over his shoulder, smiling as he says, “Honey, I’m home.”
I have to look away from him, especially those eyes, especially after the text messages and the thoughts they provoked that shouldn’t be in my head.
“Good, I’m starving.” I nudge him out of my way with my hip as I open the bag of what I assume is dinner.
“Not even a hug?” he asks.
I look at him as I put my hand inside the large, brown paper bag.
He covers my eyes, and I try to pull away.
“Easy, tiger.”
I can’t help laughing. Then I hear the bag rustle.
“This isn’t fair. I can’t see. And it smells—”
“Smells like what?”
Before I can reply, I feel heat closer to my face, and then I inhale. “Mmm …”
“That good, huh?” I can hear the smirk in his voice.
“Stop teasing and lemme have it.”
“So many things I could say in response.”
I elbow him, and he chuckles.
“My bad. Tell me what it is, and it’s all yours.”
“You’re easy.”
“Was, but not anymore.”
I laugh. “Once an F-boy always an F-boy.”
“Is that so?”
Knowing I would be uncomfortable if Elijah was conversing like this …
I almost laugh at the thought of him teasing or talking dirty … Hell, he hasn’t even sent me a text today.
“It is. And this”—I inhale again—“this is Carpaccio di Manzo from Giuliana’s on Hylan.”
“My God, you have not changed at all. You could smell a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my lunchbox from two rooms away.” He removes his hand from my eyes and steps back, holding the container above my head.
“Hey!” I jump for it.
“Hey nothing. Go finish your work while I plate the food.”
“My what?” I laugh.
He nods toward the small dining room. “You forgot the sun.”
It warms my heart that he remembers this about me. It shouldn’t make me feel this way. Nonetheless, I smile as I turn around.
“That I did.”
Brush in hand, small yellow jar of paint in the other, I stand on the chair and set about painting the sun. When I’m finished, I hop down from the chair and look up at the sun that now shines down on all of us. Dad, Mom, Bruno, Aaron, me, and Elijah.
Standing back, I admire my stick figures and the smiles on all our faces. But most of all, I admire how the sun shines on us.
“You done?” I hear him call from one of the other rooms.
“Yep.”
I hear his feet as he walks toward me then stops.
I look back to see him in the doorway.
“Knock, knock.” He winks.
I play along. “Who’s there?”
“Needle.”
“Needle who?” I half laugh
“Needle little help eating all this food. You in?”
I set the small paintbrush on the plate, close the jar, and then set it down next to it before I turn and walk toward him.
He puts his hand across the doorway, blocking my exit. “Looks great, Stella McCa
rty.”
I turn back and look at it, holding back my smirk. “Not too bad.”
“What are we gonna do with it?”
“I hadn’t thought about it,” I admit.
“I have an idea.” He moves his hand. “After you.”
He settles his hand on my hip as he steers me through the kitchen and into the living room where he has a red and white checkered blanket, like the one I painted on the wall, laying across the floor.
“How did you know?” I look over at him.
“Know what?” He sits down and pats the spot next to him.
I sit. “That I was painting this scene?”
He smirks as he hands me a fork. “Lucky guess?”
“No way.” I laugh as I stab the fork into the salad.
“Just one of my favorite memories as a kid.” He stretches his leg out behind me.
“Tell me some of the ones you had with your family?” I ask before putting the fork in my mouth.
He shrugs. “My family was different.”
“By different, you mean rich?”
“By different, I mean there were no picnics. Hell, the only time we ate outside was when we vacationed in the Hamptons, and it wasn’t just the three of us. Always several families and as many nannies as kids. And usually, it ended in a game of croquet.”
“Never a picnic with just the three of you?”
He shakes his head.
“Well, tell me something you actually liked to do with them?”
“They both tucked me in at night.”
“Together?”
He nods.
“So, they …?” I don’t want to ask anymore. It’s always made both him and Elijah uncomfortable.
“My parents loved each other, just like yours, until they stopped putting each other first. The business for Dad, the shoots all over the world for Mom. At first, Dad went with her. Then, well, then the business needed his attention.” He looks up at me and shakes his head, “Not the story we’ve been told since we were kids, huh?”
I shake my head but don’t say anything more. I know what Elijah has told me, and how the media portrayed Aaron’s father. Of course, I know it’s not always one hundred percent accurate, but it was obvious that Evan Hearst was more a socialite than a businessman. It was also obvious that, after the accident, Aaron distanced himself from his father.
“I’ve been spending some time with my father over the past few years.”
I can tell by the look on his face that he sees the surprise on mine.
“He’s my dad, Stella.” He shrugs.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just—”
“Don’t be sorry. I bought into the shit, too. Him taking off after his name was cleared looked suspicious as hell. But Mom’s family … Well, grief and needing to blame someone does some sick shit to people.”
I grab his hand, and he looks up at me.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
He links his fingers through mine. “I want you to know.”
I’m momentarily caught off guard, but I don’t pull my hand away.
“When shit went bad with the business, a business that was funded with both their trust funds, there was a time they were at odds. They fought about money, about a lot of things actually. But”—he smirks and looks down—“they never went to sleep angry with each other.”
He studies my face, no doubt seeing the doubt in mine, and squeezes my hand. “My room was next to theirs. They fought like crazy when they thought I was asleep, but trust me when I say, unless there was a lot of praying going on behind those closed doors, they never went to bed angry.”
I’m confused, and it clearly shows.
He laughs. “Oh God. Please God, yes. God, yes. Oh yes—”
I let go of his hand and shove him.
Both of us laugh, and then I tell him, “I get it.”
“Two very passionate people.”
“Clearly.” I shake my head.
“I believe him. The police report your father showed me—”
“My father?” I ask.
He nods. “I stopped over one day to see you. You were at the store or something. His nurse was here. He told me I needed to fix things between my father and me.”
“He did?” My voice squeaks a little.
He takes my hand again. “And he gave me the name of the detective who ran the case. Nothing was tampered with, no foul play—”
“Then, why was your father a suspect?”
He shrugs. “Someone needed to shoulder the blame. And then there was the question: why was Joselyn Esposito-Hearst with Benton Donahue at one in the morning?”
I look down from his blue eyes, not wanting him to see the doubt.
“She wasn’t having an affair with him.”
I look up.
“As much as they disagreed, they loved each other, Stella. Truly and often madly.”
My father was a by-the-books guy. If he believed in Evan’s innocence, so did I. But I’m not sure about there not being an affair.
I smile. It doesn’t matter that I have heard otherwise from Elijah all these years. Aaron deserves to have some peace, too.
Aaron sighs then looks down at the food. “Let’s eat. We have a lot to do.” He looks at his watch. “And I have a meeting at ten.”
“A meeting?” I laugh.
He looks back at me. “Yeah, Stella, a meeting.”
The way he is looking at me makes me a little uncomfortable. Like he sees something that I’m not supposed to feel. Or maybe he doesn’t, and it’s just my guilt.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s cute that you’re jealous.”
“Am not!” I almost choke on my lie.
He shrugs and silently chuckles as he shoves a fork in his salad.
“I’m not,” I further defend my lie. “And besides, I have a boyfriend. Even if I didn’t, there’s no way in hell I’d want to be with someone who’s a notorious F-boy—”
Now he laughs, and I feel a little … Okay, a lot stupid.
“Seriously? You were in love with my best friend for, like … years.”
“Was I now?” He laughs again.
“Um, yeah. I mean, you asked her out, like, a million times and were smitten as hell with her.”
“You’re fucking adorable, Stella McCarty.”
“You’re deflecting.”
He smirks and shrugs. “Like I said, we have a lot of work to do.”
“And you have a date.” I shove a piece of meat in my mouth.
“I have a meeting with a realtor. And, quite frankly, Charlie Alverez isn’t my type.” He tweaks my nose as he laughs … at me.
As we eat in silence, I see him looking at me in a way a man shouldn’t look at a woman who’s in a relationship. The realization that I am enjoying it far more than a woman in a relationship should makes me feel lousy. But it’s Aaron, and it’s Stella, and it’s …
“Get out of your head, Lala.”
I glance up at him.
“We have four hours to get this done.”
“Get what done?”
He stands up and offers me his hand. Of course I take it, and then he pulls me up.
“Bathroom, kitchen, dining room, and the toy room get painted today.”
“What?” I laugh as I pull my hand back then bend over to clean up the paper plates and take-out containers.
He takes my hand and pulls me behind him, hurrying us into the dining room. Then he drops my hand, moves behind me, and says, “Looks amazing.” He grips my waist and moves me in front of it, he turns me around so my back is to the painting and steps to face me. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it up. “Smile, Stella.”
“Why?”
“Stop asking so many questions and just go with it.”
“You’re such a dork.” With a contagious smile—he has an uncanny way of making me feel at ease all the damn time—I lift my hands, palm up, and smile.
He takes a picture. �
�Perfect.” He shoves his phone in his pocket then reaches down and grabs my shoebox full of watercolors and my paper plate pallet. “Grab the water and brushes. Your work here is done and needed in the kitchen.” With that, he turns and walks away.
“No one is going to want to buy this house with my preschool drawing on the damn wall.” I laugh as I grab the water cup and brushes before following him.
In the kitchen, he sets the box and palette on the counter. “I want you to paint your favorite memory on the wall in here.”
“Explain yourself, Esposito.” I point an accusatory … brush at him.
He again pulls his phone out of his pocket and sends a text while he tells me, “Can’t you just do as you’re told?” He pauses, looking up with a smile. “Don’t answer that. I know you can’t.”
He pushes his phone back into his pocket. “You’re going to paint your memories, and I’m going to blanket them in white. They will always be here and—” He looks at me and sighs. “Stella, this is a happy time, no tears.”
I lift my hand up to feel my cheek.
He chuckles when my brush hits it instead of my hand. “There you go; cover yourself in yellow.”
I set down the brush and smile. “Why are you doing this?”
“If it’s not obvious, Stella, this place holds a million cherished memories for me, too. So, we do this together.”
“Together,” I whisper.
He steps closer and wraps his arms around me, hugging me tightly. “We got this.”
I wrap my arms around him. “We do.”
A knock on the door startles me. He just laughs.
When I step away, he cocks his head to the side. “What?”
“If Elijah’s—”
“Not to be a dick, Stella, but if he wasn’t here yesterday, what makes you think he’s coming today?”
Before I can answer, he walks past me and toward the side door. Before I can stop him, he opens it.
“The fuck, Esposito?”
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my—
“Get your ass in here, Ox,” Aaron laughs and steps back.
Ox, whoever Ox is, walks in, and he and Aaron give each other a bro-hug.
“This the little lady?”
Before I can answer, Ox, still whoever he is, hugs me.
Aaron laughs. “Get off her and teach me how to use this thing.”
