by Lexi Ryan
She opens her mouth then snaps it shut again. “I don’t trust her and wish you wouldn’t, either.”
“Amy . . .” I blow out a long breath. “Are you worried I’m going to replace you with Stella?”
She studies her feet. “No.”
“Do you think Hope is going to stop loving her mom just because Stella lives out back and can play with her occasionally?”
She shakes her head but still doesn’t look at me.
“Listen . . .” I rub my neck. I don’t know how much I want to tell her about what’s going on with me and Stella. Is there any point when it won’t last? Why upset Amy more than she already is? I look out at the road. A few cars roll by, and the neighbors across the street wave from their porch. I wave in return then laugh softly. “A few months ago, I would’ve relished seeing you act this jealous, and then it would’ve fucked me up for weeks while I waited for you to come home.”
When she lifts her head, there are tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
I swallow hard. “You did anyway, but I’m done waiting, Amy. And now I’m ready to . . .” I fold my arms. Just a few days of talking to Itsy, and I’ve completely shifted my position on what exactly I’m ready for. “I’m ready to try moving on. In whatever way feels right. I need to know if you’re ready for me to move on, or if seeing me date other women is going to make you lash out like that again.”
“Are you and Stella in a relationship?” She swallows. “Are you considering something serious with her?”
An image of Stella grinning at Hope flashes in my mind, and I shove it aside. Stella might be beautiful and fun, but what she and I have isn’t about building a future. Our deal was a fling. Stella’s looking for pleasure, mutual release, fun. “I have no plans to have a serious relationship with Stella, but that doesn’t mean you can call her a slut or imply she’s some sort of evil influence on our daughter. I won’t let you treat her like that—whether she’s my friend, my girlfriend, or my tenant.”
Amy hugs herself tightly. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just panicked, and then I came here to talk about it and saw her with Hope and . . .” She tilts her face up toward the sky, and tears roll down her cheeks. “The thing about divorce is that even when you’re the one who wants it, you’re still giving up so much you’d rather keep.”
Then why did you want it? I want to ask, but the question isn’t the loud clanging in my mind that it used to be. Now it’s less of a desperate cry and more of a curious whisper. I may never fully understand what happened in my marriage, but it’s good to feel like I can finally let it go.
“So she’s moving in?”
“Next weekend.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t meet my eyes. “For how long?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “As long as she needs.”
She nods a few times, as if she’s forcing herself to accept this information. “I’m going to say bye to Hope, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
I frown, thinking of the look on Stella’s face when she left. “Actually, can you hang out for a little bit? I think I need to go talk to Stella.”
Amy holds my gaze, and the sadness in her eyes is undeniable. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Stella
I might be older and more mature than I was in high school, but I still hate chemistry. I’ve read the first page of this chapter three times, but nothing is sticking.
I saw the look on Amy’s face when Hope mentioned me living in the pool house. I know it’s just a matter of time before Kace tells me I’m no longer welcome. I’m trying to be positive, to tell myself I’ll find something, that this is better anyway, but what I’m feeling right now isn’t really about where I’ll be living. It’s about the way Kace looks at me and the fact that Amy has the power to make him pull away from me completely. She wouldn’t, would she? Not when I’ve kept her secret.
The doubt gnaws at my concentration, so I sit in my mom’s living room, staring at the chemistry equation, and wait for the guy I’ve loved half my life to break things off or to ask me to find somewhere else to live or both.
The best part of my day was making slime with Hope. She smiled, giggled, and thanked me a hundred times. Every once in a while, I’d catch Kace watching me, some unidentifiable emotion twisting his face. It made me appreciate Hope that much more. At least an almost-five-year-old will tell you what she’s thinking.
A knock sounds at the front door, and Rusty jumps off the couch and rushes to greet our visitor with a wagging tail. I follow reluctantly, but Kace lets himself in before I get far.
He stoops to his haunches to scratch the dog behind the ears. “Hey, buddy. Are you hanging out with Stella? Are you the luckiest boy?”
Rusty responds by licking Kace’s face.
Kace chuckles and gives the dog one final butt pat. Standing, he studies my face, worry creasing his. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“It’s not your fault.” I shrug. Like it’s no big deal. Like Amy’s hatred doesn’t bother me at all. In truth, I want to scream that she’s the one who did something wrong. It’s not fair that she treats me like I’m toxic when my only crimes were being a naïve college student and knowing her secret.
“Amy is . . .” He shakes his head. “Can I come in? I’d like to sit and talk this out.”
By all means, let’s get comfortable before you break my heart. I wave my arms toward the living room. “After you.”
Kace takes in my chemistry book waiting on the couch and lowers himself into the love seat. “First of all, the pool house is yours if you want it. That hasn’t changed.”
I brace myself, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I’m shocked Amy’s on board with that plan.”
He sighs. “She’s not a huge fan, but it’s not her choice.” He waves to the couch. “Will you sit before I pull you onto my lap and forget why I’m here?”
Oh. I bite my lip. Giddy relief bubbles through my veins. “What if I’d rather be on your lap?”
The corner of his mouth hitches into a smile. “We both know there won’t be much talking if I get my hands on you.”
“Huh. I recall you doing quite a bit of talking every time your hands have been on me, actually.”
“That’s it.” He wraps his arms around me and sweeps me off my feet. I squeal and wiggle as he settles me onto his lap. He studies me, then his smile falls away. “You do something to me,” he whispers. “I cannot stop thinking about you.”
There’s a balloon in my chest growing fuller and fuller. “I think about you all the time too.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “If I start kissing you now, I’m not going to want to stop.”
I thread my fingers through his hair, toying with the ends of it. “We’re on my mom’s couch.”
“I know.”
I hold on to his shoulders and shift on his lap until I’m straddling him, and we’re face to face. “What did Amy say about me taking the pool house?”
He groans. “I’d rather talk about the things I could do to you right here.”
“That could be fun, but then I’d need a demonstration, and that’s pretty risky if we don’t want Mom knowing about this.” It’s a veiled question, and I regret it the minute it slips out. Am I your dirty little secret?
He cuts his eyes toward the dark hallway that leads to her bedroom. “She’s here?”
“Not at the moment, but she has the day off work. I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
“Shame.” His gaze dips to my mouth for a beat, then drops to sweep over my breasts. I swear, a visual perusal by Kace is better than the touch of any guy I’ve ever been with. My skin tingles. “Then again, this couch isn’t nearly big enough for me to do all the things I’ve been thinking about.”
God, I want to kiss him. Instead, I lean my forehead against his. “You’re avoiding the question.”
His hands slide down my back. “Hmm?”
“Amy?”
He closes his eyes. “Right. She
’s not happy, but she’ll get over it. I just wanted to apologize for the way she acted today.” When his eyes open again, he frowns. “Did something happen between you two?”
I stiffen. “I just rub her the wrong way, I guess.”
“I get that you’ve made some mistakes, but . . . she’s irrational when it comes to you.”
Mistakes. Of course I’ve made some, maybe more than my share, but I hate feeling like those mistakes define me with Kace. Especially when he doesn’t even know the worst of it.
He pulls a face. “I’ve never understood why she dislikes you so much.”
I grunt. “Dislike is such a nice word. Amy hates me.”
“Why?”
The image of her pressed against the elevator wall with my boss’s hand up her skirt flashes in my mind. But I shrug. “Vinegar and oil?”
He shakes his head. “I know you made a bad impression on her when you had an affair with Clint, but—”
I shove myself back and hop off his lap. “What?”
He flinches. “Shit. I probably wasn’t supposed to know that.”
“She told you that?”
Slowly, he pushes up off the couch. “I’m sorry. It’s not my business, but she’d vent at the end of the day and—”
“Kace.” I take his hands and look into his eyes. “I did not have an affair with that man.”
He shrugs. “Okay, then Amy misunderstood. I don’t want to get in the middle of that.”
“I left Allegiance because Clint wouldn’t stop coming on to me. He was an entitled creep, and he thought that because he signed my paycheck, I shouldn’t object when he put his hand up my skirt in the break room. I didn’t feel safe after that, so I left.”
“Did you report it to HR? That’s not okay, Stella. There are laws—”
“There are laws that allow women to fight against this shit only when we can afford a drawn-out court battle that’ll flash the worst pieces of our past in front of the world.” I shake my head. I couldn’t risk that, and I made my peace with my decision long ago. While I’d like Kace to understand, I have no regrets. But the idea that Amy told Kace I had that affair? That she painted me as the one guilty of her transgressions? “There were employees who had affairs with him. Employees who played the quid pro quo game, reluctantly or happily—it wasn’t my place to judge their decisions.”
“Then she mistook someone else for you.”
Or maybe she wanted to discredit me. “What else did Amy tell you about me?”
“I don’t want to do this, Stella. I don’t know why she thought that, but I need you to understand I have to have a good relationship with my wife.”
Ex-wife. Say she’s your ex-wife. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back.
“It matters to me that there’s not anger and resentment between us. Don’t make me get in the middle of this.”
“She lied about me, Kace.”
“Maybe she saw or heard something and misinterpreted it.”
Like I “misinterpreted” Clint’s hand up her skirt at that conference? “Like what?”
“You spending lunch hours in his office. You two leaving together.” He turns his palms up. “Does it matter?”
“Yes!” My eyes burn. Fuck. It’s one thing to make me carry around this secret, one thing to blackmail me with my own mistakes so I wouldn’t share it with Kace, but to know she was planting lies about me at the same time? I could scream. “I never took lunch in his office, never left with him.” But she did. She really did. “The only time that man ever touched me was the day I quit. If she’d walked into the break room when he put his hand up my skirt, she would’ve seen me jerk away and tell him not to touch me again. If she overheard us talking alone in his office that afternoon, she would’ve heard him offer me a promotion and fat raise for, and I quote, ‘just a little time on my knees.’” My face is so hot and my eyes are burning, but fuck it, I’m not going to cry about that asshole.
“Stella . . .” He shakes his head, but fury lights his eyes, just like it did that night I was out with Jared. “Fuck.” He drags a hand through his hair. “Now I wish he still worked there so I could go give him a piece of my mind.”
“I took care of it in the only way I could, Kace. I got the fuck out of there.”
He studies me for a long, quiet moment. “I’m sorry I believed everything Amy said to me.”
The front door groans as it opens. “Stella?” Dean calls. “Is that Kace’s truck out front?”
Kace’s eyes go wide, and he stands. “It is,” he says as Dean enters the room.
Dean grins. “What are you doing here?”
Kace shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs, looking as nervous as if we’d just been caught doing something way more scandalous than talking. “Um . . .”
I’m definitely still his dirty secret. “Amy freaked out about me moving into the pool house,” I say, coming to his rescue, “and Kace came over to apologize for how she acted.”
Dean shakes his head and looks at the ceiling. “What’s her deal with you?”
Can we please stop talking about this? I sweep my books and notes off the couch and clutch them to my chest. “I need to go study.” Then I take slow and deliberate steps toward my bedroom, trying to hide that I’m running away.
Chapter Sixteen
Stella
Kace left not long after I escaped to my bedroom, and I didn’t message him all afternoon or evening. I’m trying not to be clingy, and I recognize my impulse to need extra attention when I’m feeling insecure. But I’ve checked my phone no fewer than five hundred times just to make sure I haven’t missed a message from him. At nine, when I know he’s had a chance to get Hope in bed and decompress for a bit, I finally message him. I open Random, since that’s the place he seems to open up to me the most.
ItsyBitsy123: You up for chatting?
His reply comes almost immediately.
GoodHands69: I can for a bit. How was your day?
ItsyBitsy123: Okay, I guess. My eyes are crossing from studying for so long.
GoodHands69: What are you going to school for?
I frown. Haven’t I told Kace I’m going back to be a nurse? Or maybe he just knows I’m going to school but doesn’t know what for. I don’t remember what I told him, and I actually wish I hadn’t told so many people I was going for nursing. It’s going to be that much more embarrassing when I can’t get into the program.
ItsyBitsy123: The plan was nursing, but I’m not sure now.
I quickly type another message, wanting to change the subject.
ItsyBitsy123: What’d you do this afternoon?
GoodHands69: Hope and I went to our favorite trail with a picnic dinner. She can’t go far yet, but she loves hiking. I think her favorite part is stomping in the creek and finding the perfect rock (she always wants to bring them home, but we follow the rules—take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints, etc, etc).
She fell asleep in the car on the way home, and then bath, snuggles, and story time filled the rest of the night. It was a good day. Damn near perfect, and one thing I’ve learned in the past year is that the most perfect days are the ones we make for ourselves. I’ve been pretty good about making memories with my daughter, but I’m realizing I haven’t made much of an effort in my personal life outside of that. Which . . . makes me want to talk to you about this other girl I’ve been seeing, but I’ve been told that’s rude.
I cringe and laugh at the same time.
ItsyBitsy123: Damn right it is. I seriously don’t want to know about her.
GoodHands69: Got it.
ItsyBitsy123: I hope that doesn’t sound bitchy. I just know I’ll make myself crazy wondering if she’s better than me.
I chew on my bottom lip while I wait for him to reply. I’m flirting with the edge of revealing too much about my feelings for him, and I don’t want to scare him off.
GoodHands69: I’d never compare. But I can say I’ve really enjoyed talking
with you. It’s been good for me.
My heart feels too full.
ItsyBitsy123: I like that we’ve connected in a deeper way on here.
GoodHands69: Me too, but . . . fuck, if you had any idea how many times I’ve typed something about the other woman I’m seeing and then deleted it, you’d think I was a complete ass. I will refrain. I promise.
I stare at the screen, trying to convince myself to ask about her, to tell him we can talk about anything. But I’m already racing my way to a broken heart, and I don’t want to make the inevitable crash any more painful.
He ends up messaging again before I can figure out what to say.
GoodHands69: You ever get lonely? Not like bored-and-want-company lonely, but that bone-deep need for connection?
GoodHands69: Fuck. I feel guilty even saying it. My life is good. My friends are awesome. But I always imagined my days would include a partner who’d see me on a deeper level. Someone who’d keep the loneliness at bay. If I’m honest, I hadn’t even felt that with my wife in a long time. If I’m honest, maybe I just WANTED to feel it with her and was willing to pretend things were better than they were. I’m not sure why I’m dumping this on you tonight—except for the obvious. I’m lonely. And I’m starting to think that maybe my ex was never going to be the one to fix that.
My heart aches as I reread Kace’s words. This strong, steadfast man is lonely, and if anyone deserves the kind of connection he’s talking about, it’s him. And maybe he isn’t looking for that connection from me, but . . . maybe I can chase away the loneliness for the little time we do spend together. Without thinking too much, I slide on a pair of flip-flops and grab my keys.
When I park at Kace’s house, the lights are on in the backyard, so I go straight to the gate. He’s out at the pool, sitting on the patio and staring at his laptop, a baby monitor humming from the side. On the other side of the water, a small fire snaps at the night air.
