Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Stella
F or the past few days, Mom and Dad have been acting subdued, and though they try not to let it show, I’m worried they’re getting tired of me. They’ve fallen into a casual routine, seeing friends, watching TV in the evening, giving me more space and letting me do my own thing. They don’t feel the need to entertain me or check in all the time.
If I really am going to live here, turn their guest room into my own, then I should start thinking about school or finding a job. The time off to get to know my family has been a dream come true, magical, but life can’t be a permanent vacation, and all the hard years I spent growing up haven’t let me forget that.
One hazy afternoon that matches my mood, I wander out to the beach, sit on a rock, and mull over what I should do. Quinn would call it sulking, and maybe she’d be right. I miss Zane and Zarah. Sometimes I feel like they’re in King’s Crossing living it up, partying without me, though I know it’s not true. Truth or Dare still keeps tabs on them, and Zane pretty much works all the time. The only gossip they have to report on Zarah is when she and Ingrid walk through the park or if she and Zane go somewhere.
It seems they’ve fallen into a quiet routine of their own, and I’m happy for Zarah, that her fog, though albeit still slowly, has kept lifting. Her eyes look a little clearer every day, but Zane hasn’t told me too many details about her progress or how much medication she’s still prescribed.
A low, relaxing melody tinkles in my ears through earbuds attached to my phone. My therapist, the same woman Banks connected us to last year, though my mom and dad don’t attend very many sessions with me anymore, recommended listening to soothing music. It helps me relax, reminds me to breathe.
Sometimes I like to sit and listen to the waves crash, the seagulls squawk, the children yell, as it’s a music of a different sort, but today, while my dad plays golf without me and my mom and one of her friends are shopping, I listen to music and go through the exercises my therapist encourages me to do. They mostly entail writing lists, like the pros and cons of going back to King’s Crossing versus staying in St. Petersburg and reminding myself that the world won’t end because of my choices. That’s not so simple to do. I don’t care about the world, just my life.
My ringtone interrupts the music, and I click the button in the earbud’s cord to answer the call. “Hello?” My phone is in the pocket of my shorts and I don’t know who’s calling me. I hope it’s Zane—it’s been a while since we’ve spoken.
It’s not, but she’s the next best thing.
“Hey, Stella,” Quinn says, her voice light and happy.
“Quinn.” Her call is very welcome. She and I haven’t talked much since she enrolled in fashion school in New York. She’s so busy interning, schmoozing, and attending classes and seminars, I don’t want to be a bother.
“How are you doing?” she asks.
“Good! Tell me about New York.”
“Nope. You go first. How’s Zane doing? How are wedding plans?”
I pause. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked for a while. I called him a few days ago, but he was on his way to a meeting and only had a couple of minutes. He sounded good. Happy. Working hard, like he always is.”
“What do you mean you haven’t talked to him in a while? Aren’t you in KC?”
“No, I’m still in St. Pete.”
“Holy shit. Stella, it’s been almost a year.”
“I know.”
“When are you going back?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What the fuck do you mean, you’re not sure?” Quinn demands, and I wince. I always feel like an indecisive slug whenever I talk to her.
“I don’t know what Mom and Dad would say. They love having me here.”
“Of course they do, but Zane’s waiting for you. I thought you guys were going to get married.”
“We were. We are.”
“That’s kind of hard to do when you’re in Florida and he’s in Minnesota.”
Her blatant disapproval annoys me. She always has all the answers. I get tired of her sometimes, constantly thinking she knows best.
“How am I supposed to choose?” I snap.
That’s the crux of it. How can I choose between my parents and Zane?
How in the hell can I tell my mom and dad I don’t want to be here, that I don’t want to live with them after it took my whole life for us to find each other?
And Zane? How can I tell him goodbye forever when it seems all we’ve done for the past six years is fight to be together?
The choice is impossible.
“Stella, you’re so stupid,” Quinn says, and it’s the nastiest thing she’s ever said to me.
“You don’t need to talk to me like that. If you’re going to be a bitch, we can say goodbye.” For good , I add to myself. I know she put up with a lot of shit after I escaped Ash’s, but she’s also working her dream job and she wouldn’t have that without Zane.
“Oh, knock it off. If you would stop with the pathetic pity party, you’d see you have the answer right in front of you. We didn’t grow up with money, so it’s hard to plan with the idea you have it. Zane loves you, and he’s proven he’d do anything for you. Don’t you think he’d fly you to Florida whenever you wanted, or fly your parents to Minnesota if they wanted to visit you? Zane owns a private jet. More than one, I bet. Think for a second. There’s no choice. You can finally have it all, sweetheart. You can finally have everything you want.”
I sit on my rock, the sun beating down on me, the salty spray sticking to my skin.
Could what she said be true? I could fly here, visit whenever I want? Zane already told me I don’t have to work if I didn’t want to. There would be no saving for years to buy a plane ticket. Zane can fly me anywhere, anytime I want.
My parents did well on their own—they could afford to fly to visit me, too. Anytime.
“Stella, your parents only moved to Florida to get away from King’s Crossing after you were kidnapped. Maybe, when you decide to go back to Minnesota, they would move back, too. Haven’t you talked to anybody? Zane? Your mom? Have you been keeping all this to yourself? Of course you have,” she says in her typical Quinn way. “Saint Stella, doesn’t want to inconvenience anyone. Doesn’t want to bother anyone with pesky problems that aren’t really problems. Zane is a gazillionaire. What the fuck is wrong with you? ”
What’s wrong with me is that growing up, I didn’t have two nickels to rub together. What’s wrong with me is that I don’t have an easy time like Quinn and Mel spending other people’s money.
“But—”
“Don’t argue with me, Stella. You know I’m right. I think as a wedding gift, Zane buying your parents a place to live so they could be nearby would be a small thing in exchange for finally being able to settle down.”
My breath hitches, and my heart thrums frantically with possibilities I didn’t know I had.
“You’ve been running, trying to find your family, your home. All you gotta do now is take it. Let Zane give you your heart’s desire. Your happiness is the only thing that matters to him. He loves you, Stella. Let him do it.”
I swallow. “Did he ask you to call me?”
She pauses. “No. Actually, I have something to tell you. I...met someone. She works in the Garment District, too. Really sweet, kind of reminds me of you. I was hoping you’d...be happy for me.”
“That’s fabulous, Quinn. That’s really great.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“I’ve adored you for so long.”
I laugh. “You can still adore me—”
She scoffs.
“—but you know I could never love you the way you loved me. I am happy for you. I mean it.”
Quinn sighs. “Good. That’s good.”
“When do I get to meet her?”
“When you and Zane finally tie the knot. I’ll bring her to your wedding.”
“That’s a deal.”
We’re silent for a moment.
“Thank you for being my friend,” I say softly.
“You’re always going to have to put up with me. I gotta get going, but, Stella, go home. Put the man out of his misery, okay?”
“I will.”
Our conversation gave me a newfound peace. I’m not the little girl who had to carry her belongings from house to house in a garbage bag. I’m not the little girl praying for a permanent family. I’m not the little girl who was abused and mistreated and only taken in for the state checks it paid.
Somehow, I managed to grow into a young woman who is kind, compassionate, and smart. Somehow, I grew into an elegant young lady who caught the eye of one of the richest men in the country who would do anything for her.
I don’t love him because he has money and I don’t want him because of the things he can do for me, but if he’s willing and able to help me so I can keep my parents close, then I’ll let him.
Because when I’m happy, he’s happy, and being with him makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.
I turn my music off and wiggle the earbuds out my ears.
Sliding off the rock, I have my first hit of apprehension. I don’t know how to tell my parents I don’t want to live here, but maybe Mom already knows. She feels something is going on and is always glancing at me when she thinks I’m not looking.
Well, I think, squaring my shoulders, I’ve never been a coward.
They’re in the kitchen talking quietly over glasses of wine when I come in from the beach.
“Mom, Dad.” My heart will always hum because now I can say those words. “I have something to tell you.”