31. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
Noah
S he blew hot. She blew cold. The rest of the time, she pretended I didn't exist.
Stella Hunt was in a bad mood. She'd gotten there after talking to JR. She had even tried to pull out of our date, but I managed to convince her otherwise.
Neveah, who had gotten an update from a perturbed Stella about JR, was more or less ready to brain me with a baseball bat. My saying I'm not JR wasn't going to help the situation. I was being painted with the same brush—deservedly.
As a protest, I knew she didn't wear make-up or dress up for the date. I'd told her to dress comfortably. She'd taken that to heart and was in a University of Georgia sweatshirt, distressed jeans, and a pair of red chucks. I thought she looked fucking beautiful. The only problem I had was with the almost purple bruises under her eyes—not because they marred her face but because it was evidence of the turmoil she was feeling. I knew she hadn't slept well the previous night, and neither did I. She kicked me out of her bed, and now we both resembled tired zombies. She was crankier than me. I understood. Talking to JR had opened old wounds and even inflicted a few new ones—but I'd let JR speak to her because it was the only way for Stella to heal.
When JR had knocked on Stella's door, I'd been ready to sucker punch him and rearrange his face, but he pleaded with me.
"I know I let her down. Not just with that damn video…but everything. You can't even imagine the things I've done to hurt my sister," he confessed.
As a man who'd had become comfortable groveling, I recognized the signs of sincere regret, of learning from one's mistakes.
"She told me a lot of what you did," I warned him. "She told me how you messed up her summer internship at Cornell. She told me how you told her prom date she had a crush on that she was having sex with one of your friends ,who even backed up that story."
Stella had to go to prom alone, which she did with Luna. She told me that it had been a blessing because it had been a whole lot of fun. After that, Stella never told her family about any of her boyfriends, or, for that matter, anything about her personal life.
JR couldn't contain his surprise. Since Stella and I moved in together, we'd been talking, and slowly, she was telling me things about her life, and I was responding in kind. She hadn't told me these things to garner my sympathy, only as a way to explain who she was and how her experiences had shaped her. How she'd trusted me after her own family fucked her up the way they had was a miracle, and that I'd taken that and crushed it in the name of useless revenge was the height of stupidity.
"How are you feeling about your talk with JR?" I asked as I drove us to our date.
"I don’t know how to feel, Noah. What are apologies worth? In the grand scheme of things, they’re just words. I can’t fathom what actions could make them truly meaningful."
The new Stella, now attending therapy, was more open with me and with others. Previously, her happiness seemed forced, as if she was burying her troubles deep down to maintain a fa?ade of joy. Now, her emotions and expressions felt more genuine and heartfelt.
"It's hard to show an apology," I agreed. "Trust me, I'm struggling to figure out how to prove to you every minute of every day that I'm sorry for what I did, that I've learned so much from the mistakes I made, that I love—"
"Oh no. We're not going there again," she snapped.
"Going where?"
"You know where."
"I love you, Stella. It's the truth. I'm going to tell you time and again, so get used to it."
"It’s easy to say the words, Noah, but the proof is in the puddin', isn't it? You didn't behave like you loved me, you—"
"Since we got engaged, Stella, tell me what you see in me?" I cut in.
Hell, no, we weren't going to keep going back to that fucking video, the biggest mistake of my life I needed her to move beyond it so that we could, too. Winning her back seemed impossible if she couldn’t let go, but I was determined to fight for us to be a real couple, no matter how long it took. The past weeks of living with her had only deepened that resolve.
She ignored my question. "Where are we going?"
I let her change the subject. We'd come back to our discussion. I knew it, and so did she. Relationships were always hard, and past baggage made it even more difficult.
"It's a surprise," I said with false cheer.
"I don’t like surprises anymore, Noah. Another thing you fucked up for me."
On that happy note, I drove into the parking lot of the beautiful Coastal Georgia Botanical Gardens at the Historic Bamboo Farm, where I had secured the garden for a private dinner.
Was it extravagant? Yes.
Could I afford it? Yes .
Would Stella appreciate it? Fuck, if I knew.