7. Seven
SEVEN
STELLA
I was halfway through my soup when I got a text.
Winnie
I decided to be proactive and go ahead and threaten Alden. You should be good now.
Winnie. No. I thought you said we didn’t have to talk about it.
YOU don’t have to talk about it, but someone needs to tell him what a dick he is.
I didn’t have time to process what she had before the door swung open and Alden walked in. My eyes flew to him, only to find him already looking at me.
My frazzled brain struggled to come up with anything to say. Did I apologize on behalf of Winnie or did I tell him he deserved it?
He opened his mouth and I settled on an answer before he could speak.
“Don’t worry about what Winnie said. You don’t have to be nice to me. I’m good.”
“I wasn’t ... How did you know she called?”
“She told me. And I get it. She’s worried, but she has no reason to be. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Even I can see that.”
Okay, then. I guess I wasn’t lying my way out of this. “Maybe I’m not fine, but you don’t have to force yourself to be nice to me. I don’t care what she threatened you with?—”
He let out a long sigh. “It wasn’t much of a threat. She only told me how I made you feel. That was enough.”
“What—you didn’t know you hurt me?”
“I know I did,” he said. “But I didn’t know that it made you question ... you . That was never my goal.”
“It’s what happened.”
He looked away, eyes falling to the ground. “You don’t have to forgive me. Or want to talk to me. We don’t have to be best friends, but this will be a little easier if we at least talk ... I think.”
“You think ?”
“No, I know.” He shook his head, lips pursed. Was he ... frustrated with himself?
Our conversations, even as kids, never carried this weird energy. Alden seemed to be at war with himself over something as simple as this.
“It’s fine. Surviving doesn’t require talking.”
“Do you have experience with that?”
My eyes flew to him. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You look worn out, like you’ve been in survival mode for too long.” At my answering glare, he put up his hands. “Hey, you don’t have to answer. I was just pointing out a fact.”
“How about we talk about something else,” I muttered. I wondered if he could even come up with anything.
“What kind of soup is that?”
My eyes sank to my bowl. I’d forgotten I was even eating.
“Chicken and gnocchi.”
“Amma’s recipe?”
“Kind of. I added a few things to it.”
“How is it?”
“Why do you care?”
“You’ve always been good at cooking.” He shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve had anything you made.”
When we were kids, I would shove my experiments at both Nick and Alden, eager to have other people taste my cooking. It had been a long time since I’d forced a taste test of my most recent creation into his mouth. It had stopped like all other communication after that fateful night .
And despite everything, I wanted him to try it. I wanted his opinion.
I held out the spoon. “Here. Try some.”
Alden didn’t waste time grabbing the spoon. I unhelpfully remembered the times when I used to spoon-feed him, which made my body flush.
His lips curved around the utensil, and yet another terrible thought hit me.
That’s an indirect kiss.
Goddammit. I’d spent only minutes with him and my childlike thoughts were rushing back to me.
“This is incredible.”
I hated that I perked up. “Really? Even the cream of chicken base? I made it myself.”
“You can make that?”
“You can make anything if you have the time for it. Or the willpower. I’m a bit rusty, though. It could have used more cream and?—”
“Is there more?”
All of the words fizzled out of my brain. I nodded and watched as he got his own bowl. My cheeks heated. There were no questions about what was in it or how many calories it was.
God, I missed that.
I missed this— the easy banter we used to have.
“Why haven’t you cooked in a while?” he asked as he sat with his own bowl.
“I answered the soup question. I don’t have to answer anymore. ”
“Fine. I get it. But all I know is what I’ve heard, and if anyone told you to stop cooking, then they’re a fucking idiot.”
“I’m actually the idiot here. I let someone walk all over me for far too long.”
“Who?”
I glanced at him again. His posture was stiff and his grip on the spoon tightened.
“You don’t need to pretend to be protective over me. Those years have passed.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Why would you?—”
“I don’t have a right to feel the way I do, not after what I did. I know that, but I don’t like the idea of anyone walking all over you, Stella. You deserve better.”
It was such a shocking statement that it knocked my defenses loose. I answered before I could stop myself. “His name is Reed. I dated him for two years.”
“Reed sounds like the name of a jackass.”
“That’s ... I’m sure there are nice Reeds out there.”
“Maybe there are. But am I right about this one being a jackass?”
“Not in the obvious ways. But as far as cooking, he hated anything that I made. He had to know only healthy things were going into it. No salt, sugar, or ... fun.”
“I’m pretty sure all of those are good in moderation.”
“Reed was very worried about his health.”
“Was, huh? Did he die? ”
“No. But he’s dead to me. It’s over as of almost twenty-four hours ago.”
“Do you ... want to talk more about it?”
I eyed the way his shoulders were still tense. “Next time you ask that, try not to look so pained.”
“We don’t really know each other, but we’re stuck together so ...” He looked away, face twisted as if he knew exactly how awkward this was.
We don’t really know each other, but he’d taken my virginity. Yeah, whatever.
“How about we pretend we’re fine and move on, okay? We don’t have to talk about it.”
“You’ll never be able to pretend you’re fine and me not pick up on it, Stella.”
I blinked. “How did you still catch it? Most people don’t see it.”
“I’m not most people.”
I dared to glance over at him again. With his rough exterior, he looked nothing like the last four men I’d dated. Yet we had ended with the same conclusion that all of my other relationships had.
There was something wrong with me.
“Have to cancel any photography sessions?”
The question nearly made me drop my spoon. “You’re asking about my life?”
“Is that a safe topic? Or should we spend the next few days in silence?”
I was tempted to say silence, but even I knew I couldn’t survive that .
“None other than the one my stupid boyfriend had me working,” I answered. “I lighten my workload around the holidays to spend time with my family, which obviously isn’t going to happen now.”
“A lot of plans are dashed,” he said. “Mine are too.”
“Your plans with us, you mean?”
“I do other things with other people, you know.”
“Like what? Spending time with a girlfriend or something?”
As far as I knew, Alden didn’t do long-term girlfriends. I didn’t know how I would have handled it if he did. Sure, he had on-and-off girlfriends in high school, but I was a green-eyed monster even then. Nowadays, I’d love it if I was over that feeling, but even the idea made my spine straighten.
Maybe I’d never be over my first heartbreak.
“Not exactly,” he replied. I tried not to let the relief show on my face. “I usually find a place to go hike at on Christmas.”
“Why?”
“The quiet is good for me.”
I could see him walking alone in nature. I’d never considered hiking in my adult life because it was always associated with Alden. Despite how much he had hurt me, I wondered what it was like to be on those walks with him.
The wind blew again, stopping any conversation. I turned to the window in the dining room. This was one of the few without curtains since Amma liked to look out of it while she ate her breakfast.
Slowly, the world outside had only gotten worse.
While being stuck in this house was a nightmare, the scenery outside was still beautiful. I didn’t often get to see the trees and ground covered with glistening ice. Eventually, it would be covered with white snow, but for now, I bet I could get some incredible shots—if only I had my camera.
New note to self: take it everywhere .
“What’s that look for?”
“I don’t have my camera. It feels like I’m missing a limb.”
“A camera, huh?” His lips twisted into a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
He got up and went to the living room where he grabbed an eighties Polaroid. “Amma had me pull this out of her room. There’s also more of the film. I have no idea if it works.”
“More of the film as in film packs?” I asked.
“Yeah, I think so. They looked newer.”
I nearly ran back to the living room to find them. I’d used Amma’s Polaroid when I was a kid. I knew the camera would still work so long as the film packs did. I found them on one of her side tables and loaded in a new one before going back to the dining room.
“Smile,” I said to Alden before shooting a picture.
He only had time to turn before the camera flashed. Moments later, it printed a picture of him looking like a deer in headlights.
“You got it to work?”
“And look at this great shot I got. You’re a natural.” I showed him the picture, and he rolled his eyes.
“You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?”
“Very.” I smiled at him. “But thank you. At least I’ll have something to remember this hellscape by.”
“You want to remember something bad in photos?”
“Life is full of all of it. So why wouldn’t I? Besides, it can’t get any worse than this.”
He raised his eyebrows, but then the power flickered. I frowned and looked at the ceiling light. “What was that?” I asked.
“I’m guessing you don’t know the cardinal rule of survival.”
“And what’s that?”
“Never say things can’t get worse.”
Like a curse, the lights flickered once more. And then they completely went out, leaving us in darkness.