11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Stella
S ilas Rutledge was a few years older than me. He was the heir of the Rutledge fortune and was doing side projects like the museum botanical garden to get ready to run for state senate. I was still enough in tune with the Savannah society gossip to know that.
He already looked like a politician, with his perfectly coiffed hair and tailored suit. He was a little smarmy for my liking, but I'd had worse clients.
"I'm so excited that you're working on this project," he told me when we met in a small conference room at Savannah Lace. I'd thought, for about half a minute, if I should put on some makeup, and then decided it was too much work, and it wasn't like he wanted me to work on his garden because of how I looked.
"Thank you, Silas."
I poured myself some more coffee from the tray Nova had brought into the meeting room.
"Ah, I'd like some more." Silas pointed to his cup.
Really? Was he expecting me to serve him coffee?
I pushed the tray closer to him. Knock yourself out, buddy. I'm not your typical Savannah society girl, especially right now, when I'm so totally out of fucks.
He frowned but refilled his cup himself.
"I don't know much about gardens," he told me. "But I know that I want something that is worthy of a museum."
I opened my notebook to look through the notes I'd taken when I talked to Nina. "I was told you want a garden that extends the museum and serves as a living exhibit."
He nodded and then smiled sheepishly. "A consultant told us that was what we needed. I'm not sure what the heck that means."
Well, at least he wasn't being pompous, so that was a plus in his column.
"Maybe we can go with a historical theme," I suggested, brainstorming, allowing ideas to flow into my dull as dishwater brain. "Each section of the garden could reflect different eras or aspects of Savannah's history."
He nodded excitedly. He had no idea what I was talking about.
"For example, one area might recreate a colonial kitchen garden, while another could feature a Victorian rose garden, complete with gazebos and winding paths."
"I love it," he exclaimed. "Ah, I was thinking that we would have like a big deal opening celebration for the garden. Maybe your father could do the ribbon cutting."
And the penny drops! He wanted me because I was Senator Hunt's daughter. I frowned.
"Birdie is good friends with Whitney, Silas, you don't need me to get to my father. Whitney will be happy to help you."
I closed the notebook.
"Ah well, Birdie and Whit had a falling out," he continued. "And…I mean, you know how these things are."
"No, Silas, I actually don't," I said dryly. "If I can't get my father for a ribbon-cutting ceremony, do you want another landscape designer on this project? Nina said you asked specifically for me. But I can't get you, Baron Hunt. So, if you want to change your mind, no problem."
He stiffened. "You don't have to be rude, Stella."
I sighed. "I'm not being rude. I'm being practical. You want my father, and you think you can get him through me. I'm tellin' you that ain't happenin’, ‘cause the Senator and I are not buds. I don't know why everyone in Savannah thinks we are."
That was the problem. People just assumed all kinds of nonsense. That's what Noah had thought as well. Maybe I should advertise more clearly that Senator Baron Hunt hates his oldest child—because he disliked the woman whom he knocked up and had to marry to save his fledgling political career. Maybe then people will stop trying to get to him through me. I was done paying for my father's sins or whatever the hell else people wanted from him.
"Gabe said you're the best landscape architect he's ever known, and he's known quite a few, what with the number of hotels he has," Silas offered as apology. "I'd like you to work on this."
"Even if Daddy won't be cutting any ribbons for you?" This was not my style. I didn't confront. I didn't just blurt things out. I was a careful person. Or at least I used to be. And what had all that care gotten me? Nothing. I was on a video, naked, telling a man I was his slut while he had his dick in my pussy, a hand on a breast, and another on my clitoris. My orgasm trifecta for the world to watch.
"Even if," Silas agreed.
"Okay." I got up. "I'll work on a proposal for you, and I can get you something within a couple of weeks. We can meet again and see how we move forward."
"Sounds good." Silas rose as well, confused as hell, I knew. He wasn't expecting this Stella. He was expecting doormat Sweet Stella, the one who always tried to keep the peace, said the right things in the right way. Well, that Stella was gone, fucking buried.
"Ah, I don't mean to be rude, Stella, but what's the matter with you?"
"Huh?"
"You…well, you look like hell and…I don't know, you seem angry."
No shit, Sherlock . Try being me right now and tell me if you wouldn't be pulling your hair out at the roots. But maybe Silas shouldn't do that, since I could distinctly see the careful coif of his hair was hiding a burgeoning bald spot.
"It's unfortunate you feel that way," I said as politely as I could manage, and I couldn't manage much. "I'll make sure you have a proposal soon. Nova will book a meeting as soon as I'm ready. I'll need a tour of the gardens. Who should I contact about that?"
He cleared his throat. "Eden. My sister."
Great! Noah's girlfriend. The universe was a bitch, and she had it in for me.
"Okay. I'll contact her."
I walked out of the meeting room and called out to Nova, who was sitting a few feet away at the reception desk. "Can you walk Mr. Rutledge out? I have another meeting in five."
Nova grinned and nodded.
I left Silas in the conference room and, without a backward glance, walked into my office and shut the door.
I leaned against the closed door and took deep breaths. Yeah, I wasn't okay. I felt like I was standing on a precipice, ready to jump.
I was generally a happy person.
I'd had a couple bouts of depression when I was younger, but once I left my father's house, I had maintained my equanimity. I knew I had a propensity to go dark—and when it was dark, I wanted to not wake up. I wasn't suicidal. I loved life too much for that. But when it was this dark and there didn't seem to be even a chance of any light, I wanted to stay in bed. It was an effort to get up, brush my teeth, take a shower, and find something to wear. Everything was a mountain to climb. Time would heal, I knew that. This wasn't my first or even my second rodeo, but while I healed, the pain of living was debilitating.
There was a knock on my office door. I pulled away and opened it, thinking it would be Nova, wondering why I lied about having a meeting so she could deal with getting Silas out of the building.
"Stella."
His voice grated on my skin. Nails on a chalkboard. I stepped back and back and back, until I was leaning against my desk. Distance from Noah was a good thing.
"What can I do for you?" My throat was tight. I was crumbling. I could feel it inside me.
He swallowed. "I was wondering if we could talk."
"What the hell would we talk about?"
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, less wearily than I had just a few moments ago. "I didn't think my actions would lead to," he waved a hand at me, " this ."
"This?" I cocked an eyebrow. The man had some brass balls on him, walking in here and speaking to me like we were friends or even acquaintances.
Buddy, we're enemies. You hate me, and I'm learning to hate you. I'll get there as soon as I fall out of love, which I pray happens soon, because I don't deserve this torment every time I see you, think about you, hear your name, or remember how your hands felt on my body, your breath against my skin, and...
"Everything," he replied, holding my gaze.
He looked tired and sad, and something inside me blew the hell up. How dare he show up here with a hangdog face, expecting sympathy from me? He destroyed my life, and now he thought he could show remorse and I'd what? Climb him like a tree? Arrogant asshole.
"Oh, what did you think it would lead to? Buttercups and fuckin' daisies?"
"Don't use language like that," he growled.
I wasn't like Luna. I didn't swear. I was a good Southern girl. Well, at least I used to be.
"What language should I use? Maybe I can ask you to call me your slut. Or your whore. Is that what you'd like? I'm your whore, Noah ." Was that my voice? I wondered as if I were standing outside my body and watching this horrible scene unfold.
"I…that was just…."
"Fucking? Yeah, I—"
"Don't call it that."
"What would you like me to call it? Making love ," I said sarcastically. "It was fucking. Worse it was hate fucking. You made me say those things while you had your dick inside me and—"
He moved quickly and, before I knew it, he was in front of me. He yanked my arm so I slammed into his chest.
"Cut it out, Stella."
I pushed him away with all my might.
" Fuck you, Noah. Get the fuck out of my office, and stay out of my life. You've done enough. You don't get to come in and tell me what language to use. You don't get to come and ask me to talk to you. You don't get to waltz in here and claim you didn't expect the personal fallout from the shitshow you created."
He put a hand on my cheek and almost disarmed me. "I didn't mean to—"
"Don't you dare say you didn't mean to hurt me! That's exactly what you meant to do. You wanted Baron Hunt, and I was the easy target. I just had a meeting with another asshole like you who wants Baron Hunt to cut the ribbon on the project he wants me to work on. Christ ! Can the world really not see that I am the unwanted daughter? Baron Hunt doesn't give a shit about me. Never has. Maybe I need to blast it on Insta or some shit, so morons like you will stop fucking with my life."
There was a knock on my door, and that silenced whatever response he had to my little rant.
"Come in." I walked around the desk, away from Noah.
"Hey." Nova looked at Noah, and then me. "Silas asked me to book time for you to present a proposal."
"Thanks, Nova. Make it in two weeks, three if we can stretch it. I'll need the time."
"Nina would like to attend that meeting," Nova informed me.
"That's fine."
"I'd like to be at the meeting as well," Noah spoke, and I was tempted to scream. How dare he insinuate himself into my work life?
"Nova, thank you. Can you excuse us?" I requested.
Nova waited a long beat, and then left, closing the door behind her.
"What is it you want, Noah? You got your revenge. My life is a shambles. Hope that evens out whatever trauma my father put your sister through. Can you now leave me the fuck alone?" My voice was low, almost a hiss.
"I'm a partner at Savannah Lace and I'm very interested in this museum botanical garden project." All the previous let's talk softness was gone, and instead, he was hard-as-nails again. The same man who'd showed my father a sex video of me getting nailed by him from behind.
"Whatever, Noah. Have at it." I flung a hand in an ' I give up' gesture. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work."
"This is not what I wanted," he said softly, "I didn't think about the consequence to you."
"Lucky you. I'm having to live with those consequences you didn't think about."
"Stella, let me—"
"I'm going to let you nothing ," I quipped. "Now, get going, Mr. Partner , so I can do my fucking job."
He stood still as if trying to get his thoughts in order. "I have a question that I need you to answer."
I raised my chin, silently saying, go right ahead, you son a bitch .
"After what your father did, my sister attempted to kill herself." He was looking straight at me, the remembered agony of what he'd been through flickering in his eyes.
I felt hysteria bubble inside me and spill out in harsh laughter. "And you're worried I'll do the same? Slit my wrists in the bathtub or hang myself off a rafter? Or maybe I'll just drive into oncoming traffic. Any thoughts? Suggestions? Helpful hints?"
It was horrible to joke about what happened to his sister, but I was all out of compassion. First, he upended my life and now he was pretending to be worried about me? Well, fuck his guilty conscious, if he even had one.
"Stella, I need to know that you won't do anything stupid," he retorted angrily.
I laughed again. "You mean more stupid than fucking you, Noah?" My voice dropped as pain seized my insides, because he wasn't wrong, I did often wish the universe would do me a favor and just kill me. I didn't have the courage to do it myself, but if someone wanted to drop a grand piano on my head, they shouldn’t stop themselves.
"Stella."
"Or maybe dying is better than how I'm feelin' right now," I remarked, all the fight inside me gone. "No matter what happens to me, it's not your responsibility. You're not to blame."
He raised both his eyebrows.
I smiled sadly. "It's not your fault that I was, as you put it so eloquently, stupid . I take responsibility for my naiveté and my foolishness. I got no one to blame for where I am except me."
He walked around my desk and came up to me. He put both his hands on my cheeks. "You're not foolish."
Tears filled my eyes. I was so tired. So, very tired. Life was so hard. Having Noah here made it so much harder.
"Yes, Noah, I am. See, I keep thinking that I'm worthy of being loved; for being cared for. All my life, everyone in my life, has shown me that's not the case. The fact that I chose to forget those life lessons and be with you, is on me."
I put my hands on his, and peeled them off of me.
"I absolve you," I added. "Go live your life, just do it away from me."
He left then, closing my office door behind him.
I let my tears run down my cheeks.
I was a mess, I admitted. I was a broken mess.
I picked up my phone and called Dr. Monica Ryan. When her assistant answered, I said, "Hey, Tracy, this is Stella Hunt, I need to start therapy sessions again. Can you get me a weekly spot?"
"Let me see," she paused, and I heard the clacking of a keyboard. "Stella, the next three weeks are completely booked."
"I'm in crisis, Tracy," I whispered.
"I understand. Let me see what I can do." There was a long pause. Thankfully, I didn't have to listen to canned lounge music while she put me on hold.
"Stella," Tracy came back online after five minutes. "Can you make seven-thirty in the morning next Thursday?"
"Yes, I can. Thank you."
"Great, I'll send you an appointment request via email. We'll see you soon, Stella."