Chapter 46
Forty-Six
My bags are packed.
Remember how I had no intention to go anywhere this break? We travel enough while in season.
And now I am staring at a packed suitcase.
All because I have a wife. And that wife decided I need to meet my one and only brother. And it turns out, I quite like my wife. I am unable to stay mad at her. And she makes some good points—no wasted time.
She’s probably right. But I haven’t confessed to that just yet—no matter that I’m overly fond of Stella.
We’ll be in Atlanta for two nights and three days.
Just in time to make it home for the Red Tails Team Christmas party.
Man, Stella has good timing. Or possibly the worst timing ever.
Is she doing this to me on purpose? Because she knows I adore her? And she can get away with it all?
Because she can. All of it.
I still can’t believe my dad agreed to the visit so readily. He’s got a whole new life in Atlanta, one I’ve never been a part of. And we gave him zero notice. But when I told him I was married and that my wife wanted to visit, he told me they already had a room waiting for us.
Waiting.
Does that mean he’s been waiting for me to visit? Waiting, but never calling? Never texting? Never visiting? Never bothering to come to a game? Because that doesn’t add up.
Stella exits one of our two rooms—we use both these days. Her blonde hair is braided down her back, and she’s makeup-less, as we have to be at the Tesoro airport by seven.
My heart jumps at the sight of her. My wife. Not only do I adore her, but she seems to like me back.
While I understand that our situation has moved lightning fast, it feels right. It feels like this is exactly how it’s supposed to be. Me and Stella. With all the … adoring.
“Hey,” she says, rolling her bag over to me and lifting on her toes to press a light kiss to my mouth. She’s good at this. Like we’ve been doing it for years.
Wrapping one arm around her, pressing my hand into the small of her back, I hug her against me. “Good morning,” I say in reply, leaning down to try that kiss again. My body and brain need more than a peck.
The balm on her lips tastes of strawberry and leaves me wanting more. More Stella. Always more.
I don’t even want to know how much this non-stop flight to Atlanta is costing me. Then, Stella leans her head on my shoulder, watching as I scroll through movies on this mini television attached to the seat in front of me.
Floral and lilacs waft upward and into my nostrils.
Her hand glides over my stomach, resting there.
I would pay just as much to be seated like this on our couch in our cabin—but this works too.
If I have to be on a plane, if I have to be flying out to my dad’s, seeing him for the first time in years, I’m glad it’s with Stella.
“Wait! Go back!” Her head perks up, and as I scroll back a page, she returns her head to my shoulder. “A New Hope. The original really is the best.”
“Star Wars?” I say, peeking down at her. “You watch Star Wars?”
She scoffs and lifts her head to challenge me. “I can watch Star Wars.”
“You can. But you don’t.”
“Only I do,” she sings.
“Since when?”
Her eyes narrow and she glares at me. I think she’s avoiding the question. I’m certain she is when she answers with, “Why can’t I be a fan? Are you sexist, Roman Graves?”
I spurt out a laugh. “It has nothing to do with gender.”
“Then what?”
I find her hand on my torso, entwining our fingers. “You really don’t remember?”
“Roman, spit it out.”
My head bows a little with the memory, but I can’t help my smile. “Brice and I had a marathon the summer before our junior year. You were what, thirteen? Brice said you were a know-it-all that year—”
“I wasn’t a know-it-all.” She nudges my shoulder with her own. “I was thirteen!”
“Anyway, Brice and I were two movies into a Star Wars marathon when you walked in—”
“Wait, I remember that. That’s the year Mom took away the TV from Brice’s room and said our family needed more family time, not TV time.
You and Brice had to watch in the living room.
” She sighs. “The last season of Confessions of a Seventh Grade Crush had just come out, and I was dying to watch it. Mom was threatening to cancel Netflix, and you and Brice never gave me a turn with the TV.” Stella glares, looking very much like that thirteen-year-old girl.
“Confessions of what?” I smirk, lifting her fingers and kissing the back of her hand.
Her eyes drop to our knotted fingers. “Never mind that. I remember the marathon.”
“Do you remember me inviting you to watch with us? You stomped and yelled that you would never, for the rest of your life, watch a Star Wars movie.”
She bites her inner cheek. “And I didn’t watch a Star Wars movie ever—until a couple months ago.”
“You threw such a fit.” I laugh, shaking my head, remembering the way she yelled at us. “I can’t believe you went back on your word.”
She tugs at her hand, but I don’t release her. Nope, she’s staying right here, with me. “I did not throw a fit. And if I did, it’s because my brother was standing behind you, giving me the kill sign and shaking his head no at me.”
“Hold up.” My brow furrows. This is new information. “Really? Brice told you no?”
She sighs, leaning her head back on my shoulder. “Brice always told me no when it came to you. He never wanted to share.”
“He was seventeen. All seventeen-year-olds are kind of selfish.”
She hums. “I know. He was actually pretty decent to me—as long as his dorky sister wasn’t embarrassing him in front of his athletic boss of a best friend.”
“What would he think of us now?” I ask, pressing a gentle kiss to her head.
“He’d be pissed at both of us. Major kill signs all around.”
I turn, dipping my head to meet her eyes. “You think?”
Stella lifts one shoulder. “I’m not sure. Brice died before we had a chance to become friends. I was just his annoying little sister most of the time.” She swallows. “At least, that’s what I thought,” she says. “Until you told me different.”
“He loved you. He just didn’t want to watch Star Wars with you.” I wink, teasing her, and tap one finger to the screen. “But I do.”