5. Stella
Chapter 5
Stella
M y eyes snap open as if an alarm is going off, but the only alarm is my internal one. I don’t know what it is about two a.m., but every night, I wake up at this time—wide awake, ready to start my morning. It's frustrating as hell, especially now that I’ve just moved in with Miles. I can't exactly get up and move around his place in the middle of the night.
Slipping out of bed, I pull on my slippers, my toes freezing as I take them out of the warm, cozy bed. The floor creaks beneath me as I stand.
Why does everything seem so much louder in the middle of the night?
Sneaking toward my door like I’m back in high school, trying not to wake my parents, I open it and glide into the hallway, moving as if I’m floating, doing my absolute best not to make a sound. The last thing I need on my first night here is to wake him up and make him get a shitty night’s sleep, but the problem is, this is when I’m at my most creative. My finest baking happens right now—no matter how inconvenient it is.
Creeping into the kitchen, I see the light still on in the living room and immediately freeze, holding my breath while I listen for any sign of movement.
Is he still awake?
When I don’t hear anything, I continue. Grabbing a glass, I fill it with water from the fridge and finally take a good look at the kitchen.
It’s beautiful.
It’s honestly everything I’ve ever dreamed of. There’s so much space and cabinets stretch on for days, all in this beautiful navy color with gray countertops that practically beg me to get them messy. I can already imagine baking cookies, pastries, and cupcakes in here, experimenting with new recipes until I’ve created the perfect menu.
Plus, all the dinners, breakfasts, and everything else in between that could be created in here? It’s a fucking dream.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, daydreaming about this kitchen, when Miles walks in—shirtless and looking like a wet dream—scaring me half to death. His tanned skin and toned muscles are cut in all the right places, leading down to the shorts slung low on his hips.
If I’d had this image in my spank bank during all those fantasies, I would’ve finished on the spot.
“Hi,” he says gruffly, his voice heavy from sleep as he shuffles to a cabinet by the fridge. I can only assume he was napping on the couch, based on the blanket thrown over it and the way he’s rubbing his eyes. “Not able to sleep?”
“Nope.”
“Same. This is usually when I’m making my way to bed, though,” he mumbles, yawning, as he stretches one long arm above his head.
I catch myself staring at his sculpted chest and quickly look away before asking, “Why do you stay up so late?”
“Puzzles,” he says matter-of-factly, as if that explains everything, grabbing his own cup of water and sitting down at the island. “This is usually when I realize what time it is and finally make my way to either my bed or the couch. But tonight, I must've nodded off earlier because I just woke up. Why are you up? Is the bed not comfortable?”
“No, it is. There’s just something about this time every day. I’m wide awake and have to at least get something to drink. My brain is just too loud.”
“I understand. What do you have going on up there?” he asks, pointing at his head.
Nothing my vibrator couldn’t help with.
“Just thinking about the trip and what I’m going to do with the bakery,” I say, telling him part of the truth. “It’s just a lot. First, I have to figure out what we’re walking into. Then, I have to figure out how to turn this place into my dream bakery and get it opened and…I don’t know. Sometimes, I just wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”
“I get that. The unknown is overwhelming. It leaves so much room for our minds to race, thinking about all the possibilities we might face, when in reality, most things are pretty easily fixable,” Miles says, leaning back in his chair as he yawns. His brown hair is messy from sleep, yet he looks hotter than should be acceptable, especially for it being the middle of the night.
“Want to talk about what you want the bakery to look like in the future? I’m not worried about the repairs. I don’t think there’s anything we could walk into that we wouldn’t be able to figure out in time.”
Grabbing my phone, I immediately open the app where I have everything saved and pass it over to Miles to look through. I’ve been saving pictures, recipes, and overall aesthetic ideas for this bakery ever since I walked through its doors back in high school. It was my first big dream, so I poured my heart and soul into it, dreaming as big as I could—which is evident in the elaborate ideas I came up with.
“These are incredible designs,” he says as he thumbs through the images of wooden tables and metal chairs, a sort of farmhouse-meets-industrial vibe I was aiming for, including plants. All. The. Plants.
I had this vision in my mind of a Yin and Yang vibe. Old meets new. Industrial meets farmhouse. An eclectic mix that is both obviously different yet somehow cohesive.
“I like the idea of having someone make the tables, but it hasn’t been something I’ve even had time to think about. If everything works out and I get the location, I’ll probably end up just ordering some furniture until I can eventually have something like these built,” I tell him, pointing to the exact table I keep going back to.
“Will you send me some of these pictures? That way, I’ll know what you’re hoping to achieve. I did grow up in Tennessee, you know. I’m sure I know someone who could build these for you.”
“I don’t want to make you—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“You’re not making me do anything, Stella. I’m asking to help. This is a little thing I can do that hopefully takes some of the stress off you.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, grabbing my phone and screenshotting the images before sending them to him.
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he says with a smile before yawning again.
I need to stop this conversation so he can get some rest.
Standing up, I refill my water before turning back to face Miles. “Thanks for talking about it. Sometimes, little things seem like a much bigger deal until you talk about them, so thanks.”
“Anytime, Trouble. Do…do you want to stay up? I can always put on a movie or something?” Miles says, and I stand frozen in place, unsure of what to do.
I want to say yes because I know I’ll just go back to my room and lie awake until it’s time to head to the bakery by five a.m., but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“I shouldn’t. I’m going to go try to catch a little sleep before going into work,” I tell him with a smile as I grab my water, taking a step toward the door.
“Well, I hope you’re able to get some rest. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow—or later today, since it’s already morning.”
With that, my lonely cup of water and I make our way back to bed.
After meeting with my mom to go over the shifts I need her help with this week, and mentioning that I’ll need her to cover more since I’ll be in Nashville longer than I originally thought, I’m exhausted. I’d been putting off this meeting with my mom for long enough that even Miles started pestering me to just get it done.
My mom was all excited, talking to me about what I’d be doing down in Nashville with Kenzie, and I hate that I’m having to lie to her. Yeah, I might get to see Kenzie once or twice maybe, but that’s definitely not what this trip is about. I just can’t stomach the thought of them knowing I fucked up. Thankfully, my mom just smiled and agreed, happily taking on some of the extra load and going on and on about how happy she was that I was finally taking a vacation.
I think she thinks I’m going away for a trip to see Kenzie, my best friend since I was a kid, and I’m more than happy to let her believe that instead of telling her the truth. I figured she would bug me about the trip with it being so sudden, but with how much she’s been on me about taking some time off for a vacation, I guess she was just thrilled that I was finally taking her advice.
But that’s a problem for another day. For now, I'm heading to the grocery store to grab enough stuff for a quick dinner, then hopefully find some time to use Miles’ gorgeous kitchen to bake. I decide to make a simple pasta dish, grabbing noodles and sauce, along with everything I need for a salad, so I’ll have more time to really enjoy the kitchen. I'm not sure if I'll make cookies or cupcakes tonight, but either way, all I know is that I want to take full advantage of it.
After the store, I head back to Miles’ apartment, stopping by the front desk to grab the key Miles left for me, and finally make my way up to his place. Figuring out how to use the elevator is a whole other challenge—first, you push one button, then another, and I swear it feels like you have to offer up your firstborn before it actually lets you take it up.
He told me he was going to be working out, but I have no idea how long that’ll take. So for now, I have the apartment to myself, and I’m hoping to make him dinner as a thank you for letting me stay with him. The awkward part is, all I can think about is whether he’ll be able to keep the secret, or will he crack under the pressure when he sees my brother.
I spend the next hour preparing food, chopping ingredients, boiling water, and tossing together a salad, while listening to an interesting mix of Yellowcard and Taylor Swift, belting out every bridge like I’m on America’s Got Talent .
By the time Miles gets back, I've prepped dinner and measured out the ingredients for a batch of strawberry cupcakes, with only the strawberries left to slice before putting everything together.
“Hey, Trouble, what are you making?” he asks as he walks into the kitchen, a pair of navy workout shorts slung low on his hips—shirtless again. I immediately drop my gaze and focus on slicing the strawberries for my recipe, hoping he can't see the little hearts in my eyes from how hot he looks.
Does this man ever wear a shirt?
Looking up, I see him standing there, his hip propped up against the counter while he sips a protein shake he just pulled out of the fridge. Can he be the meal?
“There’s dinner on the stove. It’s just some pasta I made to say thank you for letting me stay with you. But these?” I say, gesturing down to the strawberries I’m still cutting. “These are for strawberry cupcakes, and some will go inside, some will go on top. I’ve been craving them since I woke up at two a.m., but by the time I made it to the bakery this morning, I only had enough time to prepare what I needed for the day. Too many pastries and danishes to make, so I didn’t have time to experiment and see what I could come up with.”
“You know you didn’t have to do anything special to thank me, right? It’s not an issue at all. And like I’ve said, I’m just happy to help.”
“I know. But…I needed to do something special. And we both know I’m more comfortable in the kitchen than I am anywhere else. Cooking and baking are my love language. You should know this.”
“I do,” he says, with a boyish smirk that reminds me just how handsome he really is. Kind, too. Obviously.
“Want to grab a plate and dish it up? I’m almost finished slicing these strawberries, and then we can eat. Unless you’re not hungry yet—I know you just finished working out.”
“I’m starving,” he says, rubbing his stomach, and I feel my eyes follow the motion, lingering on his toned muscles without meaning to. “Anytime I work out, I’m always so hungry afterward. Today’s no different.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I say with a nod as he starts serving himself, surprising me when he pulls down a second dish. Clearly, I was going to eat too, I just didn’t expect him to plate it for me.
After he gathers our food, he sets it down at the island before moving to grab us both a drink, all while I finish cutting the last few strawberries, doing my best not to leave a huge red mess everywhere. After throwing the scraps away and putting the rest in the fridge for later, I finally take my seat next to Miles.
It’s silent at first—minus the occasional moan coming from Miles—but it’s a comfortable kind of quiet, the kind where you’re both just focused on eating something you obviously enjoy.
I take it as a compliment.
Even if I did cheat with a jar of sauce, which I doctored up with extra, extra garlic, of course.
Mission accomplished.
It could also be quiet because we’re both used to eating alone, but I’m choosing to not point out the lonely aspects of our lives.
“Have you talked to anyone about the place in Nashville recently?” he asks between bites.
I shake my head. “Not much can be done until we see it and figure out the next steps.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says, taking another bite. “Did they tell you when they need you down there? I know this all happened a couple of days ago, but I just can’t stop thinking about it. I have a meeting with the team this week. Besides that, we’re not starting until later this month, so I’ve got some time to come help.”
“No, they haven’t. As far as I know, the inspectors are going to be checking it out sometime later next week, so I was thinking of heading there this weekend and leaving at some point the following week.”
“That sounds great.”
“But I still feel horrible that you’re going to be spending all this time helping me, especially knowing it’s so close to the start of the season. It feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“You’re not, Stell. I promise. You’re Rex’s sister. Of course, I’ve got your back,” Miles says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze that almost feels robotic.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. With that one comment, I’m reminded of the real reason Miles is doing this—and it doesn’t make him a bad guy. In fact, it makes him an incredible friend, willing to do whatever it takes to support his friends and their families.
Still, it doesn’t make it sting any less that I wish he was doing this because he cared about me.
Finishing our food, we both stand at the same time, nearly bumping into each other. “Sorry,” I mumble, while stepping around his chair and finally popping the cupcakes into the oven. While they cook, I rinse my dishes in the sink before loading them into the dishwasher. Miles does the same, and then we work together to finish cleaning the rest of the kitchen.
It’s quick, almost too quick, and once the cupcakes are out and cooling, ready to be frosted tomorrow, I’m not quite sure what to do. Do I stay up? Do I go to bed? It’s evening, but it’s definitely not bedtime. Still, I don’t want to intrude on Miles’ space. He should feel like he can relax in his own home without me hovering.
Deciding to go back to my room, I glance at Miles as he grabs his cup and heads into the living room. I give a quick smile and gesture toward the hall.
“I’m not sure what you’re doing…but I was going to watch a movie if you want to join.”