3. Stella
Chapter 3
Stella
“ C an I get you both something to drink, or are you good with just water?” our waitress asks as she sets down coasters and glasses of water at our booth moments after Miles and I sit down. I freeze, unable to find the words, as if that one simple question is too much to process.
“I’ll take a beer, whatever you have on draft,” Miles says before turning to look at me, and I just nod in agreement.
The walk over here was a little awkward, mostly because there’s so much I could say, but not a lot I want to. I don’t want it to seem like I can’t take care of myself. It’s the predicament I’ve been in my entire life—plenty of people who want to help, but never truly a moment when I feel like I can accept it without it looking a certain way.
When I decided I wanted to open my own bakery, all it took was one professor in my business class telling me the only reason I’d be able to accomplish it was because of who my family was. I’m not an idiot. I knew my parents were well-known in New York City, and I was fortunate enough that my brother and I never wanted for anything. I also knew my brother had made a name for himself in this city as a hockey hotshot, which gave everyone another reason to scream nepotism if I succeeded.
So, ever since then, I’ve done it all myself. It’s not that I needed people to know I was successful on my own; I just never wanted anyone to say I hadn’t worked my ass off for what I’ve earned. But now I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, trying to make smart choices, and I feel like I’m failing at doing it all independently.
As the waitress sets down our beers and places a few menus in front of us, just in case , I try to rack my brain for how to broach the subject.
“I’m in a bit of a difficult situation right now, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to get out of it.”
“Okay… You’re going to need to give me more information if I’m going to be able to offer any advice.”
I drop my head into my hands, my forehead damn near hitting the table as I just deflate.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Give me anything.”
“I’m homeless,” I blurt, immediately regretting starting with that tidbit of information when I see the wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression he’s giving me.
“Would you fucking repeat that for me?”
“I’m homeless.”
“So it wasn’t my ears deceiving me. What the fuck do you mean, you’re homeless ?”
“I mean, I’m staying in a hotel right now while all my stuff is in storage. That feels pretty homeless to me.”
“Why?”
“Because I was supposed to be moving somewhere else, but I don’t want to talk about that yet,” I say, looking down and refusing to make eye contact. I’m still not sure how much of the story I’m willing to divulge just yet.
“So, what are you going to do? Why aren’t you talking to your family about this?” he asks as he leans forward, placing his elbows on the table, his eyes wide with shock, obviously spiraling from the new information.
“I don’t want to tell them. I don’t want to admit that I failed. That I put all my eggs in one basket, and the basket didn’t just fall—it fucking imploded in my hands. It’s not easy to admit that when your family is fucking perfect,” I snap, my eyes watering with frustration as I imagine what it would be like to tell them.
I can’t.
Miles eyes me for a moment as if searching for the right words. “I know this isn’t ideal, but you could always come stay with me,” he says casually, taking a sip of beer. My heart starts racing, the sudden shift in direction giving me mental whiplash.
What?
Could I do that? It would be nice to get out of the hotel and actually have a kitchen to cook and bake in.
No.
I couldn’t do it. I could never live with him. I couldn’t lie in bed knowing the man I’ve been fantasizing about was under the same roof. It would consume me, and I’m not sure I trust myself not to act on it and make a fool of myself…again.
But would it be easier to explain to my parents why I don’t have anywhere to live right now? Or tell them that the real reason I’m going to Nashville is to renovate a new location to hopefully pass inspection, otherwise risk losing out on quite a bit of money…and potentially my bakery here in New York. That’s a far cry from the girls’ trip I told them I was taking to visit Kenzie. So, yeah, that doesn’t exactly seem like the best option either.
“I—”
“The other option is we could call Rex and see if you can stay with him for a while. I’m not too thrilled about letting you live in a hotel when you have people who care about you and would be willing to let you stay with them while you figure everything out,” he says with a firm, unyielding tone, straightening his back as he speaks.
“Don’t do that,” I say, shaking my head. “See…if my living arrangement was the worst part, that might help me in this situation. Unfortunately, that’s not the worst part.”
“What is the worst part, then?” he asks, leaning forward on his elbows, hands clasped together as he listens intently. I can tell I have his full attention, and while it’s a little unnerving, it’s also really comforting because it actually feels like he’s on my side. I’m not sure what to make of that.
“The worst part is that not only am I out of an apartment, but I also have to go to Nashville to figure out what’s wrong with the bakery I’ve already signed for. There’s still a chance I could lose the new location and the hundred grand I put down on it. I had to use the property I already own as collateral, so there’s a real risk that I could lose my bakery here in New York, too.”
I shake my head, nervous to admit that I haven’t told a single soul about any of this yet—something I probably should have done, especially with these big decisions, decisions that are clearly capable of impacting my life.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t need their help,” I say adamantly, watching as his eyebrows raise. And now that I hear myself, I sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “At least…I don’t want to need their help.”
“So…what are the options now?”
“There’s really only one. I leave for Nashville next week to figure out what’s wrong with the property. They told me there was flooding inside, but I’m not sure what that means or what kind of long-term damage it could cause.”
“So, when are we leaving?”
“We?”
“If you’re not willing to let your family help you, I’m not exactly going to give you a choice on whether or not you accept mine. If I had a sister going through all of this and a friend like Rex didn’t offer her help, I’d be pissed. More pissed than at you for not telling me in the first place.”
“No,” I say, immediately annoyed when he starts laughing and grabs his phone.
“Alright, then we’ll just wait for Rex to meet us here and figure out what you two are going to do to solve this.”
“No, don’t!” I shout, diving across the table to snatch his phone, which he smoothly pulls just out of reach, making me nearly spill both of our drinks.
“Whoa,” he says, leaning back casually, his gray t-shirt molding to his biceps and making him look even more attractive than any man should—especially one who’s pissing me off so royally. “If you don’t want me to call, you know what you have to agree to.”
“So basically, if I don’t want you to call my brother to come help me, I have to accept that you are helping me instead. Which entails moving in with you and taking a trip to Nashville to check out my other bakery?”
“Precisely,” he says smugly, and I want to deck him in the mouth just to wipe that stupid look off his face.
“You’re not very nice,” I say, crossing my arms and sitting back as I weigh my options. I quickly come to the realization that I either accept his help or face the wrath of my entire family, questioning why they’re just now learning about all these big life choices all at once. “But honestly, it doesn’t exactly seem like you’re leaving me any choice but to accept your help and hope for the best.”
“In that case, want to come check out your new apartment for the next bit?” he asks. I can’t tell if he’s excited or if he’s just trying to make light of the situation, but either way, it’s weird.
“How about we do that tomorrow? Tonight, I’ll go back to the hotel, get my stuff situated, check out in the morning, and then head to your place.”
“Are you sure? You can just stay here tonight if it would make you more comfortable than being in a hotel.”
I scoff, roll my eyes, and give him a teasing grin. “Yeah, Miles. I’d definitely feel more comfortable staying at your apartment than I would in a nice hotel with room service, where they’re at my beck and call anytime I need something.”
“Whatever you say, Trouble.”
I sit there, finishing my beer, while Miles orders another round before closing out the tab. Overthinking what we just agreed to, I wonder what the fuck I’m going to tell my family. I mean…I guess nothing because I was already lying to them in the first place.
But my brother?
Can I expect Miles to lie for me?
“You know…” I say quietly. “If we agree to this, we can’t tell anyone. Like, anyone. Especially my brother.”
He looks up at me, his eyes so serious it’s painful to see him like this, his usual joyful expression gone. “I understand, Stella. But if I’m the only one you’re willing to accept help from, I’m more than happy to lie to help you out.”
“Thank you, Miles.”
“Of course, Trouble. But is there anything else that I should know?”
I look down, debating whether I should avoid the topic altogether. But when my gaze meets his, I see this caring man who genuinely seems to care about me , not about who my brother is. It makes me open up more than I’m used to.
“Do you remember that guy I dated a while back? The business guy who never said hi to anyone?”
“Yeah…?”
“Well, apparently, he overheard me talking to a customer about how I’d always loved this place down in Nashville and how it was going up for sale. This would have been fine if he wasn’t such a dick and if he hadn’t found out it was his company selling the bakery in the first place.”
“So, what’d he do?”
“ Somehow a clause was put in one of the revisions in the contract…apparently if the property didn’t pass inspection, I would forfeit my down payment, and the property would remain in the seller’s possession.”
“How is that legal?”
“It was in the contract, at least, that’s what my realtor told me.”
“Did anyone else look it over?” he asks, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s clenching his fists.
It’s hot seeing him get all worked up for me—even if I know it’s only because he’s friends with my brother. Rex always made sure his friends stayed away from me, and the ones he did allow close? Well, that was only because he made sure they saw me like a sister, which sucks, because the fantasies I have about Miles…yeah, they’re definitely not what a brother and sister would be doing.
But that’s just between me, myself, and my toy drawer. These fantasies have gotten me through plenty of lonely nights, but they’re my dirty little secrets. Ones I’ll take to the grave. There’s not a chance I’m risking being turned down by this man.
It hurt enough when I tried to say hi, and he pretended not to remember me. Even worse, it’s possible he really doesn’t. He could’ve been drunk, but there’s no way to know now since it was years ago. I’ve probably passed the point where I could casually bring it up—it would just be weird at this point.
It’s not his fault that he doesn’t remember that night. For me, though, it was everything I needed. I still think about it when I’m struggling at work. All it took was an evening of fun with Miles and a kiss hot enough to curl my toes and wet my panties, and I created the best recipe of my life. That’s how I ended up where I am now, with my bakery.
“No,” I finally say, my cheeks flushing from both the embarrassment of my stupid mistakes and the memories of that kiss.
How do you explain that to a man who doesn’t even remember kissing you?
“We are going to Nashville, Trouble, and I’m going to help you figure this out, okay?” he says, reaching across the table to grab my hand.
“Okay, but?—”
“No buts. We’ll figure it out, starting tomorrow with you coming to stay with me for as long as you need.”
“Fine. But only if you promise to let me use your kitchen.”
“Deal. I’ll even sacrifice myself to be the taste tester.”