Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Stone
L etting Noa go was the worst and best decision I’ve ever made.
It’s difficult to put her image at the backs of my eyes and focus on the present.
Those wide eyes of hers, her stern look when I piss her off, the way she admonishes me, then strokes me with her tongue.
How she looks at me like I’m still worthwhile, despite all I’ve done.
And the moment she opened her arms to me, and I walked away.
That’s the worst one—the hurt in her eyes, the kind I keep causing.
I couldn’t hold her back a second time. That is exactly what I read in her eyes, that she’d sacrifice her dreams—again—for me.
I’m evolving, but I’m not so cocky as to believe I’ve transformed into a man as greedy as that.
To separate Noa from her passion would be unforgivably selfish, and I meant what I said to her and go over every word every time I’m forced to be without her—she’s my home.
I can turn my back on that solace in favor of her happiness, because I’m not so sure I’m hers.
And so, after spreading my mom’s ashes on a borrowed boat and even seeing a humpback whale after I did it— hi, Ma , I’d thought through a frozen body and blurred vision—I board a private plane with Aaron and go back to the place I’ve called my home for over a decade.
There’s no human component to my return. I dodge the press at the airport and hole up in my coastal mansion before getting on another flight to Singapore.
I’m ever the professional, being such a good boy that both the domestic and international media became bored with me, and my history with Noa becomes old news.
Ravynn attempted a tell-all article and all but confirmed she leaked Noa’s past, unearthed through a private investigator.
The woman could not seem to let go of our brief mistake of an encounter, but the little I know of her gives me enough to understand that ignoring her cries for attention is the ultimate insult.
“Well, that seemed positive,” Aaron says as he steps into my Singapore office right as my mindfulness coach leaves. “Good to see you still working on yourself.”
“I refuse to meditate,” I grumble, “But Drake makes good points.”
“I’d hope so, considering you flew him here with us.”
“He’s decent.”
Aaron eyes me over the highball of bourbon he pours himself. “This is nice, seeing you try to reign in that unpredictable part of yourself. She do this to you?”
“Who?”
Aaron’s eyes slit. “Only one person would make you want to do both a New Agey mindfulness guru who only wears tank tops and a Zoom with an anonymous anger management class.”
“Mhmm,” I harrumph.
“Add a therapist to it and I’ll truly think an alien inhabited your body.”
“Fuck off.”
Aaron barks with laughter. “Because, like me, you have no one. I figured the two of us bachelors could close the best restaurant in Singapore with the most expensive bottle they have before we leave tonight.”
I slowly drop the pen I’d been holding to sign off on the Millspace proposal. “That’s … utterly sad.”
“It is what it is, my friend.” Aaron makes himself comfortable on one of the wingback chairs. “Hey, we have each other.”
I’m not sure how to respond. Aaron’s good-natured about it, but isn’t it entirely upsetting that we don’t have anyone to be cozy with after closing a major deal?
It makes me miss my mother something fierce.
I could always rely on her to call me, regardless of where I was.
She’d bring home to me just by hearing her voice.
I sit across from Aaron with a heavy sigh, my giant eyesore of a desk between us, my gaze unfocused for the first time since stepping on a plane out of Falcon Haven.
“Don’t look so depressed about my company. You might just wound me permanently,” Aaron says.
I rise to join him with a bourbon until we’re interrupted by an, “Excuse me, Mr. Williams?”
An assistant creeps through the doorway holding a paper-wrapped package.
“Yes?”
“A delivery man brought this to the gate. We checked it out. It looks harmless, but I don’t recommend you eat it.”
“I’m sorry. Did you just ask Mr. Williams to eat a package?” Aaron clarifies.
I send Aaron a warning look. He loves messing with anyone stupid enough to engage with him.
“My sincerest thanks.” I take the box from the confused security guard, though I’m equally perplexed.
“Did somebody send you food? Oh, wait.” Aaron’s expression clears. He leans forward, shadowing the desk. “What’s the return address?”
I slide it from under his busybody gaze. “Get back to soothing your emotions with alcohol.”
“I’ll be paying for this later,” he mutters. “But dammit, it’s delicious.”
Aaron resumes his seat, sipping his drink but keeping his attention on me.
“Open it,” he says.
“What if I want to do it in private?”
Aaron scoffs. “I’m your firewall. Do it.”
He’s not wrong. I unwrap the package and have to put aside some ice packs before getting to the small white carton in the middle.
“Hmm, the suspense continues,” Aaron says.
A simple white card is nestled underneath it. Eagerness crawls into my throat until I stanch it.
It can’t be from her, but it has to be. Who else would send me perishable goods?
Aaron solves that problem for me. “I had your assistants intercept a dozen cupcakes the other day. And cookies the day before that. All from hopeful clients hoping to make you fall in love with them through your stomach.”
“Right.” Despite my best efforts, my voice clogs with disappointment.
I made it clear to Noa that we were going our separate ways, and I can convince myself up and down that I did the right thing … yet that damned eternal flame won’t snuff out.
“You’d be surprised how many send you edible delights,” Aaron continues. I send him a wry, you’ve made your point look, which he ignores. “One time, a startup company sent you THC candies. I took those. For your protection, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
Aaron closes his mouth, studying me. “What’s with the long face? We’ve done this at least six times, you and me, getting through the evenings like it’s any other.”
“I don’t know.” I sit back and shove my plate aside. “I’m just thinking of …”
His expression turns sympathetic. “Your mom?”
“Yeah.”
I should finish there. Any person in my corner would be satisfied with that answer.
But my mind has other ideas. I’m wondering how Maisy’s doing without her good friend beside her on cribbage Fridays.
Or if Rome is getting by without the free labor he loved to work into the ground and I enjoyed, too.
Grunt work, yes, done by the real me, without recognition or reputation.
I’m crossing my fingers that Devon’s stayed out of trouble and away from drugs, wondering if I should’ve threatened him further—with wellness in mind now, of course.
I’m thinking about Noa. If she misses me.
How she looked in the Stalinski house and how the house looked with her in it.
Her laughter coaxing Ma out of misery, the delicious smells drawing us all into the kitchen for family meals.
Her sweet smile. Her judgment-free touch.
The way she regarded me as a regular man, her man, no spotlight, no expectations, other than to be a good one.
My stomach lurches. I’ve lost my appetite.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Aaron muses, “I’d say you’re homesick.”
I grunt at him. “I’m fine.”
I’m wondering what Noa’s doing right now.
Is Rome prepared for the coming freeze? The weather app on my phone is still tailored to Falcon Haven. I should change it but haven’t gotten around to it.
“I’m told Falcon Haven sure looks pretty in February,” Aaron says.
“Fuck,” I mumble, internally lecturing myself to snap out of it and get back to work.
I pull out the card, opening it and reading.
To the worst sous chef I’ve ever had the displeasure of teaching,
Your girl is doing wonderfully. I’m overnighting you this delicious Financier pastry she made without her knowledge. Not because I’m thinking of you, more because I feel sorry for both of you.
I’ve never met a more frustrating pair, other than myself.
Noa excels at her position in my restaurant and was accepted into Le Cordon Bleu. She’s doing fabulous, as you’d expect, but she is not the same.
If you would get over your own ego—as I have defeated mine by writing you this asinine note—you will come to her.
Today is my last day in Paris. I’ll be re-joining my father and daughter in Falcon Haven. The last place I want to be is in a small town in the middle of nowhere, but it currently houses the people I hold the dearest.
You would know.
Your lady is all alone and unhappy in Paris.
Think about that.
~ S.
“Well? Who’s it from?” Aaron asks.
“My Ghost of Christmas Past, Present, and Future,” I mutter while pushing to my feet. “The arrogant fuck.”
Aaron asks, without being prompted, “What should I tell the CEO of Millspace?”
I’ve never been more honest with myself.
My golden girl is waiting for me when she shouldn’t. I should’ve been there from the beginning.
I promised her I was back. That I wouldn’t leave her again. For a brief, insane moment, I entertained the idea of living without her.
As my mother would say, get your head to stop wobbling and make her yours. She’s already a Stalinski, you dolt.
“You’re right, Ma,” I say under my breath.
I leave my international office behind. Aaron leans back in his seat. To my shock, he doesn’t yell at me to snap out of it and go earn him his commission. He watches me depart with a strange, satisfied grin on his face.
The same type of smile pulls on my lips when I realize what I have to do.