17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Stella
A urora's doorbell was loud. She'd set it like that, she told me, because she worked with her noise-canceling headphones on.
I was staring at my computer, where I had an email from my father. He'd ordered me to attend his wedding anniversary party in two weeks. I was contemplating how to respond. Just a fuck you finger emoji? Or maybe a thumbs-down emoji. Or a simple "No." Or….
I couldn't go. Wouldn't!
I was done. I was done with him and with JR, and even Gage. I had been done for years with Whitney.
I ignored the first doorbell ring and the second. At the third I moved. It could be an emergency.
I opened the door and blinked. Eden Rutledge.
I wanted to rudely ask what the fuck she was doing here, but Southern fucking hospitality was ingrained inside me.
"Hi, Eden. Come on in. This is a surprise."
I was in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt; it was what I slept in. I'd changed after I came back from Artillery, took a shower, ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich standing over the sink, and was ready to go to bed. It was nine o'clock.
Stella Hunt was livin' it up!
Eden looked around the condo, arms crossed. She wore a pale pink dress that made her look like a cross between cocaine chic and Betty Crocker.
"I wanted to ask you what the hell is goin' on between you and Noah Carter."
"Would you like something to drink?" I asked instead of answering her question.
She shook her head. "Stella, I need to know if my future husband is cheatin' on me."
Future husband?
"That may be a question for your future husband," I suggested.
How dare she come into my home and ask me such an insulting question? Southern etiquette be damned!
"I'm askin' you."
"Get the fuck out of my house." I marched to the front door, and opened it wide.
"Excuse me?" she asked, horrified.
"No, I won't excuse you. You walk into my home and blab this nonsense? You've got some balls on you."
I never spoke like this, but Luna was rubbing off on me. Or I was tired of being Sweet Stella, who got walked all over by every fucking one. For someone who used to never curse, I was certainly dropping the F word like maple leaves on a windy autumn day.
"I just want to know what the hell is goin' on between—"
" Out ," I ordered. "Go talk to your future whatever. You got no business comin' to my home and askin' me such an insulting question."
"If you don't tell me what's goin' on, Stella, consider yourself fired from the museum project," she threatened.
"Knock yourself out."
"Nina Davenport won't keep you on if you start losin' business for her," she said maliciously.
"Nina will do what she needs to do."
I was pretty sure I was going to get fired sooner rather than later. My attitude at work and in life sucked lately. I was so tired of being good, honest, and hardworking. It had gotten me nowhere.
It had taken me so many years to finally trust a man, and I'd made one hell of a mistake with Noah.
And what I was learning was that living in Savannah would mean more run-ins with Noah. With someone like Eden coming into my home? But this was not my home. I had no home. This was a temporary furnished apartment I was renting for cheap from Aurora, who was doing me a favor.
"Leave, Eden. We're done."
Eden sailed out of the condo, and I banged the door shut after her.
Angry, humiliated, and so out of fucks, I got to my phone and sent an email to Nina and Eden's brother, Silas.
Dear Silas and Nina,
Eden Rutledge came by my place late in the evening today to let me know that I've been fired from the museum project. I'm assuming this doesn't mean Savannah Lace is out of the project, as there is an airtight contract in place. I suggest working with Anka Watts, a senior landscape designer on my team. She can use my proposal or build a new one as needed.
Regards,
Stella Hunt
Since I was on a roll, I sent an email to Nina.
Dear Nina,
Please consider this my two-weeks' notice. I'm resigning from Savannah Lace. I thank you for the years of mentorship and friendship. I will make sure to transition all projects I'm working on during my notice period.
Regards,
Stella
I threw my phone down on the couch next to me and felt rage course through me. I picked up my phone again and texted Noah.
Me: Your girlfriend came by my house to ask me if I'm sleeping with you. Tell her what you will but make sure she isn't ever in my vicinity again. I have no problem telling her that we did fuck, and you recorded it. Maybe you and she can watch it when you're having sex.
I threw my phone down again.
It rang almost immediately. I ignore the call. It was from Noah. A minute later, Nina called. I ignored that, too. Silas called ten minutes later, and that's when I turned my phone off.
I'd had enough.
I went into the bedroom and packed a quick suitcase. I changed into denim shorts and a t-shirt, found my car keys, and got the hell out of the condo and Savannah. I would deal with the consequences of my emails and message to Noah after the weekend. For now, I was going to head to Tybee Island, stay in my favorite bed & breakfast, and find some much-needed clarity.