Chapter 43
Forty-Three
After Stella informed me there is chivalrousness and then there’s stupidity, I spent the night spooning my girl to keep her warm in the middle of winter. No more sleeping on top of the comforter for me. Which I am completely fine with.
However—married or not—this relationship is new, and I won’t do anything to make Stella uncomfortable. She owns every ball ever invented in every last court.
Lying here, I’ve studied the groove of Stella’s jaw, the way her hair splays over the pillow, the way her back and my chest fit like a glove.
If she were facing me, I’d notice the curve of her lips, the rosy pink they just naturally are, the way her brows arch all on their own, even when she is expressionless and sleeping.
My wife is beautiful.
A low ring sounds from the nightstand next to her. Stella’s phone. I’m deciding just how to reach across her and silence it, when she stirs. She turns around, facing me, her arm sliding over my hip and around my back. Her eyes blink open, and then she’s looking at me.
One corner of Stella’s mouth lifts in a smile when she sees me looking back. “Mornin’,” she says, but the word is cut short. “Oh. My phone.”
Yes, it’s still ringing. She rolls back—dang that cell—and picks it up. She answers the call without much thought, but then she is just waking up. It’s only seven in the morning.
She holds the phone to her ear. “Mom?” she says, her voice still gravelly.
“Stella, dearest,” Rebecca says. “I’m staring at your ear.”
“Oh.” She holds the phone to her chest and peers at me, wide eyes. “FaceTime. Crap,” she whispers. “Go! Get out!”
I lift my head from the pillow. But— “Stell,” I say, pointing back to myself. “Husband. Remember?”
She gives her head the smallest of shakes. “Right. Stay.”
“Stella?” Rebecca says.
Blowing out a quick exhale, Stella pulls the phone back, letting Rebecca into her room with a view of our bed. “Hi, Mom.”
Rebecca blinks. “Well, hello there, sleepy head. Still in bed?”
“We are honeymooners. And it’s”—Stella squints; she hasn’t put her glasses on yet—“seven in the morning.”
“I see.”
“Hi, Mrs. E,” I say, and Stella positions the phone so that more than my ear is in view.
“Roman! Hello, darling boy. Scott and I can’t wait to have you come for a visit. Any chance you two have changed your mind and you’ll come home for Christmas?”
Stella wilts a little beside me. She’s put her parents’ happiness on her shoulders, and when she’s less than perfect, she wants to hide.
No more. None of that is her responsibility.
“Next year?” I say, backing up her decision to stay in Tesoro this year. “There’s just no way I can make it work. I’m sorry.”
“You are busy being a professional athlete and all. That reminds me—Stella, have you found work in Tesoro yet?”
I know Rebecca Everly. I know she loves her children more than anything. I know that by asking this, she truly wants the best for Stella. I also know that this question is causing Stella massive anxiety.
“Not yet, Mom. I—”
“You’re teaching,” I say, glancing from Stella to her mother. She isn’t some sacrifice on the altar. She doesn’t have to do something she hates to make others happy or prove herself.
“Teaching? Teaching what?” Rebecca says.
There’s rustling beneath Stella’s comforter, and then I am pinched right on the stomach. I jerk next to her and Rebecca glances over at me.
“It’s nothing, Mom.” She’s been so excited about her lesson with Noreen; she has another tonight. “Just a little pottery wheel lesson.”
“She’s getting paid to teach people to use the pottery wheel, and she’s been commissioned to make a piece for one of my teammates. Things are taking off over here.”
“Is that so?” Rebecca’s brows lift, her interest piqued.
Stella slaps the phone to her chest. “What are you doing? Things are not taking off! You are giving her false hope.”
“They’re going to. And you’re working. Own it.” I inch forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, to which Stella pinches my side once more.
“Stella?” Rebecca says. “Hello?”
She holds the phone back out, leaning against the headboard of her bed. “Yes, I am working—a little. I’m hopeful for more.” She glances once my way, then back to her mother.
“That’s nice, honey. It’s probably smart to wait until after the holidays for a real job anyway.”
Man, Mrs. E is not making it easy. “She’s working on making this her real job,” I tell my mother-in-law. “It’s going to work out. Our girl’s got talent.”
Rebecca’s smile is curt. “Okay, then.”
Stella slams her eyes shut, only for a moment, before opening them once more. “Sweetheart,” she says, calling me by the name she made me vow never to say again. “Can you give me just a minute with Mom?”
I narrow my gaze at her. “Sure, pumpkin.” The endearment only earns me another pinch.
“Goodbye, Roman. Scott and I plan to come watch you play, too—as soon as we are able!”
I stand from my spot and look at Stella. “Own it,” I whisper before heading out to make my wife a very sugar-filled breakfast. That always seems to cheer her up.