Chapter Fourteen
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Zane
I miss Stella like crazy. My only source of peace right now is knowing she’s in the office, on my floor. When I move from one conference room to another, or whenever I need five seconds to piss, I catch a glimpse of blonde hair and her presence eases my mind.
I’m stretched to my breaking point. Hours upon hours of meetings. I don’t approve of where Denton and Cramer have been subtly trying to steer the company. They haven’t been able to do much without my authority, and for the past forty-eight hours they’ve been pressuring me to sign papers for mergers, acquisitions, and selling off pieces of companies my father rescued a long time ago.
I refuse to sign, and they insist my immaturity and lack of wisdom and knowledge will ruin the company. They were happy to go along with whatever my dad wanted because Kagan Maddox made them rich, but they want more and they think because I’m young they can walk all over me to get it.
I am young, and the pressure hurts with bone-crushing pain. I don’t have the experience to run this company without them, and I’m going to have to compromise until I know enough to cut them out.
I hide in my office and bury my face in my arms.
The sobs start coming, and I can’t stop them. I hope Stella can’t hear me. It’s stupid to give in to tears at the office when I won’t let myself break down in private. I miss my parents. My dad always knew what to do. He built this company following his heart, and money was just a byproduct of doing the right thing. Denton and Cramer have started to look more at the bottom line than how to help people.
We already have more money than we can spend in a million lifetimes. Why do we need more? Maybe Denton and Cramer haven’t amassed the same fortune my dad did for himself, but if they weren’t fools, they aren’t broke.
I don’t know what I can say to force them to take me seriously or understand that what they want for Maddox Industries isn’t what I want.
Stella peeks her head into my office, and I dry my eyes. When I don’t say anything, she walks to my desk and hugs me to her. I’ve missed her these past couple of days, and her scent and her touch soothes me.
God, do I need her.
“Let’s get out of here,” she says, gently running her fingers over my damp jaw.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I cleared your schedule for the rest of the day.”
A burst of anger shoots through me—how dare she assume she can interfere with my schedule like that?—but I deflate and my shoulders slump in relief. She was able to do something I couldn’t, wouldn’t, do for myself.
“I told Harper we’re leaving. I heard Denton and Cramer yelling at you. The whole office did. Everyone needs a break. Come on.”
I don’t care where we go. I’m indebted to her for seeing what I couldn’t see—that I need space. She holds my hand, leads me out of my office, and I wait while she grabs her coat and purse.
Harper shoots us a strange look, but Stella handles her, waving and saying cheerfully, “Have a good weekend!”
In the hallway, she wraps her arms around one of mine and rests her cheek against my shoulder. We’ve been out of the office only a few minutes and I’m already starting to calm down. Instead of leading me to the private lift to go up to the penthouse, we take the elevator down to the lobby. I frown. I was hoping she’d bring me upstairs and we’d spend a long, leisurely afternoon in bed. I’m disappointed, but I’m thankful, too. I want Stella to see me as more than a fuck buddy. Treat me as someone more than Zane Maddox, billionaire playboy.
The sidewalks are quiet, only dried out leaves scratching along the concrete as the wind blows them away. The sun shines, and it’s a warm, fall day. We ride the train, and it’s empty but for a few stragglers who look like they have nowhere to go. People are at work and don’t have long enough lunch hours to do anything besides eat at their desks. The buildings thin out and my stress fades. I can’t remember the last time I was out of the city. Maybe the last family vacation we had, and that was last year at Christmastime.
Soon, the windows are full of fields, and the trees are showing off their fall glory.
Stella snuggles into me, and I wrap my arm around her. In such a short amount of time, she’s become my whole world. If she told me to sell the company and live with her in a hut on the beach, I would, in an instant.
We get off the train at a stop in the middle of nowhere. Well, not exactly nowhere. We’re on the outskirts of King’s Crossing, and there’s a hint of woodsmoke in the country air.
We don’t talk much but being with her is enough, and I don’t think to ask where we’re going. She could be leading me to my death, and I would still trust her. We catch a bus and the ride lasts two minutes, then she’s urging me off, a wide smile on her face.
We’re standing on a dusty road near a farm, and cars fill a haphazard parking lot made out of a roped-off piece of grassy land.
A smile quirks my mouth. “What are we going to do? Feed cows?”
“You’ll see,” she says, tugging on my tie. I don’t know how she knew I needed out of the city, but I follow her, enjoying this playful facet of her personality. Everyone in my life is so heavy, so serious. Even Ash, lately, is more bluster and anger, and I hope it’s not because of Stella.
The farm is open to the public for a fee, and Stella pays for both of us. She hands the woman two fives, and I suspect she had this planned all along. The pudgy, older woman who stores the cash in a lockbox eyes me, and she stifles a little gasp. I’m surprised she recognized me, but it’s always the people who you’d think would never follow celebrity gossip that know my every move.
Stella gives her side-eye, and I push back a laugh while looking around. She’s brought us to more than just a farm, and a large board offers us things to do: visit a petting zoo, walk through a pumpkin patch, decorate a gourd, pick apples.
There’s even an area where food trucks are parked, and we can eat a late lunch.
We could spend the rest of the day here.
I want to.
I cuddle her against my chest and whisper a kiss over her lips. She leans in, melting into my embrace, but reluctantly, I let her go. Dressed in our office clothes, we make a strange pair, and I pull off my jacket and roll up my sleeves. She shrugs out of her trench coat, too, and we roam around debating what we should do first.
I want to pet the animals, and holding her hand, I impatiently tow her in that direction across the grass. She laughs, and I haven’t heard a prettier sound.
Baby animals segregated in their pens fill the huge barn, and the pungent aroma of manure hits me in the face, but it doesn’t deter me enough to back out. The miniature cows delight me. The tiny goats charm me. To make things even better, Stella digs into her bag for quarters, and I feed them pellets of grain. She must have given me ten dollars’ worth before she finally cuts me off. “There are other babies to feed.”
Children run around shrieking, but the animals don’t seem to mind. There are lambs, too, and miniature donkeys. I pet them all, their wet tongues licking at my hand. When we’re done with the animals in the barn, Stella tells me there are more pens outside. It strikes me she’s been here before, and I fight a wave of jealousy she’s brought other men out here with her.
I rub baby horses on the nose, and when they run off, a lake glimmering in the distance catches my eye.
“What’s over there?” I prepare for something glib because we can both see it’s water.
She says, “It’s special and I wanted to save it for last, but since you asked, we can go that way.”
I want to see what’s over there even more now, and I urge her in that direction, our fingers tangled together. We walk over the bright green grass, and I’m sweating as the sun beats down on us. Stella must be dying in her sweater dress and boots.
There are more children this way, running everywhere. Little girls and boys giggling and playing tag, sucking on candy and pulling balloons behind them. Their shouts fade the farther we walk, and after a while, the wind rustling the dried leaves in the trees drowns them out completely.
The water isn’t a lake but a manmade pond, and large groups of ducks have made it their home. Out of nowhere, Stella drops more pellets into my hand and sits under a tree. To my surprise, the ducks approach us, and I follow Stella’s example, tossing the feed into the grass and along the water’s edge.
I laugh as the ducks converge on the treats.
We run out, but Stella doesn’t get us more. Maybe she’s out of quarters, or maybe she doesn’t want to leave my embrace. I hope it’s the latter. My arms are wrapped around her, and I rest my chin on top of her head. Only my growly stomach gives away my discomfort, and she kisses my cheek. “Hungry?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to move.”
“We have plenty of time. There’s no rush, Zane. Really. Enjoy yourself.”
I push to my feet, and offering her my hand, I help her stand. I drape my suit jacket over my arm, and we amble back to the center of all the activity.
We eat subs and chips (and again, she pays), and I try not to notice people snapping our pictures. I’ll never be able to escape the scrutiny or the curiosity. I guess the last thing Zane Maddox should be doing is enjoying a sunny afternoon with his girlfriend.
Stella can pack the food away, and I tease her a little to watch her blush.
After we eat, in an old, repurposed barn surrounded by kids, harried parents, paint, glue, and glitter, we decorate gourds next. White ones shaped like pumpkins, their green stems poking from the tops, are available for purchase, and Stella buys us two. I feel like I should offer to pay for something, but she materializes cash like a magician, and all I have is my credit card.
I sit next to a little girl who has dark brown skin and soulful eyes. She reminds me of Stella’s friend’s daughter on the train. Her guarded look hits home after my recent conflicts with Denton and Cramer.
“Hi, I’m Zane,” I say, hoping I don’t scare her.
On my other side, Stella and a woman are chatting, and somehow a baby is drooling in her lap.
The little girl next to me slathers glue onto her gourd using a large, saturated paintbrush. She offers it to me, smiling tentatively, and I accept. Not to be outdone, I coat mine with just as much.
“Now what?” I ask, and she sets five different glitter shakers in front of me. “Which is your favorite color?” She points to the silver canister.
When I’m done, my gourd looks more like a Christmas decoration than something for fall, but the girl’s smile, high-five, and approval makes me grin like an idiot.
Stella elbows me. “Having fun?”
“Yeah.” I kiss the tip of her nose.
I decorate Stella’s gourd, too—more glitter but pink this time—since her hands are full. We give the glue and glitter time to dry and when we walk out of the barn, the sun is starting to set. The day is still bright, but a few parents start to pack up their kids.
“What next?” I ask, waving goodbye to my new friend.
“Let’s go this way. If you want a real pumpkin, let’s do that last so we don’t have to carry it everywhere.”
We walk toward an area that’s filled with huge plastic blow-up games. Some of them are empty, and Stella and I jump in a bounce house shaped like a pink and purple cartoon castle. The attendant doesn’t care as long as we aren’t stealing time from the kids, and fifteen minutes later, I’m out of breath and light-headed.
On our asses, we scoot out on the mini slide in the back, and I sit next to Stella in the grass.
I kiss her, thankful she’s in my life. She’s opening me up to new adventures, normal people activities, and they ground me. They help me see what’s important.
Arguing with Denton and Cramer about the company isn’t important. Keeping Ash from getting his panties in a twist over Stella isn’t important. Doing what would make my parents proud of me is what’s important. Keeping Zarah on track to become a woman who would make Mom and Dad proud is what’s important.
Stella’s important.
Loving her and being a man who deserves her is important.
Kindness.
Integrity.
Planting roots.
A little boy creeps around the corner of the bounce house and sees us kissing. He covers his eyes, giggling.
I crack up and Stella laughs, and I fall back into the soft grass, the growl of the engine keeping the game inflated filling my ears with static. For once, my mind is clear, and I think to go back to the office on Monday having a renewed vision for the company.
“What’s left?” I ask, lying on the ground.
“Pumpkin patch. The petting zoo, if you want to go again before we leave.”
We slowly walk toward the petting zoo. Stella searches in her purse for quarters, and the crumpled, recycled grocery store plastic bag that holds our decorated gourds swings from her arm. I feed the animals more pellets, and when she insists she doesn’t have any more change, I hold her hand and we wander to our last stop.
A portion of field has been set aside to create a makeshift pumpkin patch, and I can choose any sized pumpkin I want.
Stella cautions me, “We have a long way back. Nothing too heavy.”
I scoff, and she shakes her head in amusement. I can’t take her seriously—she’s trying hard not to laugh. Her flimsy warning doesn’t stop me, and I start the hunt. More people snap my photo, and Stella’s, and I know we’ll be flashed all over social media later.
Stella sits on a hay bale looking like a country angel. She twists her hair into a bun to lift it off her neck, and she turns into a queen on a throne made of hay. People take her picture because we’re together, and because she’s so beautiful.
I won’t let gawkers and gossips ruin our day, and I go back to picking out the perfect pumpkin, throwing my tie over my shoulder so it’s not hanging in my way. I’m not the only one to treat it like a life-or-death situation. Soon, me and a couple of other manly men have been at it for longer than necessary, but Stella sits patiently watching me hunt, turn over pumpkins to inspect all their sides, consider, and move on.
I’m down to two, and she sighs. “I’ll help you carry.”
I grin, pleased. I wanted both but couldn’t handle them on the bus. If I would have known how much fun we were going to have, I would have driven us here, but the buses and train are part of the adventure.
We drink hot chocolate before we go. The breeze has turned cool, and it feels good after the heat of the afternoon.
Sitting on a picnic table bench, I take a couple selfies of us—I never want to forget this day. We’ll be all over the online gossip sites, but taking my own photos is more intimate...and something I never thought to do with the other women who have passed through my life.
Stella hugs a pumpkin in her lap, and I take her picture.
When she’s not looking, I save it as my lockscreen photo on my phone.
We drain our cups, the last swallow nothing but chocolate sludge.
“Are you ready to go?” she asks.
I am, but I don’t want the day to end. I don’t want to go home alone.
Zarah’s spending obscene amounts of time with Ash. I’m happy for her, but she’s out the door in the morning before I’m even awake, or she leaves while I’m in the shower, and she doesn’t come home until I’m in bed.
I would worry about her working so hard, but this is Ash we’re talking about and I suspect there’s quite a bit of pleasure mixed into the business.
“Yeah,” I say, but the magic of the afternoon is fading, and a hollow feeling fills my stomach.
She throws our paper cups away. “Are you okay?” she asks, touching my arm.
“Yeah, sure.” I force a smile. There’s nothing wrong. Technically.
“Okay.”
We trudge back to the bus stop. She carries the smaller pumpkin, her trench coat, and the plastic bag that holds our sparkly gourds. I carry the larger one, and I swear, every step it grows heavier by the pound.
Stella tamps down a grin.
“Go ahead and say it,” I grumble, shifting on my feet. No point in sitting. The bus is coming, though it’s still a few blocks away yet.
“I have no idea what you mean,” she says, tongue-in-cheek, and she turns her head to hide a laugh.
On the bus, we sit on the bench in the back setting our pumpkins next to us. I sit on the train, too, guarding our pumpkins between my feet while Stella and an old man stand and chat about pumpkin patches. I remember we could have picked apples, and it’s probably a good thing we didn’t. Maybe I’ll ask her if she wants to go back. I can drive next time, and I’ll ask Lucille if she’ll bake an apple pie.
Stella follows me off the train cradling her pumpkin to her chest, and she carries it to my building, hefting it in her arms and playfully complaining the entire way.
The stress of this morning hits me as I key in the security code to the private lift. The doors slide open, and the scent of beef meets my nose. Lucille’s cooking.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” I ask Stella hopefully as she follows me into the living room. I set my pumpkin on the coffee table and shake out my arms. “Please?”
Undecided, she bites her lower lip. This has been a perfect afternoon, and I don’t want it to end.
“Okay,” she finally agrees and unzips her boots.
We bring the pumpkins into the kitchen for Lucille to admire, and she clucks over them, shakes Stella’s hand, and clucks over her, too.
I ask about Zarah, but Lucille hasn’t seen her.
Stella frowns. She opens her mouth, but Lucille offers us something cold to drink and she answers the housekeeper’s question instead. We keep Lucille company in the kitchen, and she hasn’t been this animated since my parents passed away. I know she’s happy I’m finally coming around, and she can’t stop fussing over Stella.
We eat dinner at the small table in the kitchen, and afterward, Lucille shoos us into the living room giving me a tray that holds a carafe of coffee and raspberry tarts that have mountains of whipped cream on top for dessert. Stella sits next to me on the sofa, sinking into the cushion and closing her eyes. She’s gorgeous, and her nose is pink from spending all afternoon in the sun.
I sip my coffee. “How did you know I needed that?”
“I heard you crying. At first, I couldn’t. I thought I heard, well, I don’t know, but I put my ear to your door. I know I shouldn’t have, but I hated the sound. You’re so strong, and the sound...” She looks away.
“Well, thank you. Can you believe I’ve never been to a pumpkin patch?”
“I hadn’t either, until Maryanne brought me. It feels silly to do kid things as an adult, but I think you need to give yourself permission to let go once in a while.”
I feed her a bite of tart, and she licks whipped cream off her lip. My cock twitches, but if she spends the night, I just want to sleep, show her I can appreciate her just being here. “Is foster care hard?”
Stella blinks in thought. “It can be. There are good families and bad families. Families who treat you like a part of their family, and dads who look at you like a snack.”
I stiffen.
“But mostly it’s lonely, uncertain. You know nothing’s going to last. You don’t let yourself get close to anyone because what’s the point? I didn’t dare bond with any of my foster parents—one day you could walk out of school and your social worker is there instead of your foster mom and she has a garbage bag full of your things and you have to hold back your tears because you didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone...not properly, and now you don’t have another chance.”
Tears drip down Stella’s cheeks, and I lift her into my lap.
I know a thing or two about not being able to say goodbye, but she’s done it too many times.
She rests her head on my shoulder and as she breathes against my neck, I sip my coffee, stare into the flames in the fireplace, and vow Stella and I will never have to say goodbye.