Chapter 32 #2
A cold shiver ran through my body. Tristan was right—some other guy would swoop in. Stella was a fucking prize. The same swirl of dread that I had when I thought I was going to have to give up the Mayfair project gathered in my stomach, except this time it was sharper, more pressing and urgent.
“Yeah, well there’s nothing to be done. She doesn’t want me. So, that’s the end of it.”
The corner turned up on Dexter’s mouth. “She’s probably afraid. It won’t be that she doesn’t want you. You get that, right?”
It was Dexter who didn’t get it. She didn’t want me. There might be a reason, but it all boiled down to the same thing.
Dexter drained his whiskey. “Tristan, will you go and get me another drink?”
“It’s waitress service. And for your information, I’m not the waitress,” he replied, all the while his gaze fixed on his phone.
Dexter sighed. “Okay, will you fuck off for a few minutes so I can talk to Beck privately?”
Tristan looked up and grinned. “You just had to say.” He slid out of the booth and inevitably headed toward Christy.
I sat back, ready for whatever it was that Dexter was about to tell me.
He’d been through a lot in the last few years.
Losing his parents. The shit his brother put him through.
Building his business from scratch. But he always kept a clear head, and I admired him for it.
He never for a moment doubted his destiny.
“I don’t want to go all deep and shit on you,” he said.
“But have you considered that you don’t get close to people because of what happened with your biological father?
” It was a testament to how well Dexter knew me that he didn’t refer to the man who’d gotten my mother pregnant as my dad or ever just my father. He knew me better than that.
“You think I don’t get close to people because I never knew my biological father?”
“You experienced a fundamental rejection from the moment you were born and it’s bound to take its toll.”
“I’m not as na?ve as you think I am,” I said. “It’s definitely affected me. I’ve just spent God knows how long chasing down the Dawnay property.”
“I’d hate to see that be the reason you lose someone who could make you happy,” he said.
I wasn’t sure what Dexter was trying to say but he had my attention.
“Your biological father was an arsehole,” he continued.
“Clearly,” I replied. “But what’s that got to do with Stella?”
“Stella is running because she’s scared. Not because she’s an arsehole.”
“I don’t think she’s an arsehole.” I thought she was wonderful. Special. All those things they wrote about in poetry and love songs. I felt them all when I looked at Stella.
“Sometimes you have to chase after the things that are important.”
Stella had nothing to be afraid of with me. She knew that. Dexter had this wrong. “She’s not afraid of me.”
“No, I bet she’s afraid of being hurt. Look what she went through. This isn’t about her not wanting you, it’s about her not wanting to let anyone in.”
Dexter had a point. I could definitely see that Stella would be reticent about getting involved with someone again after Matt, but I wasn’t proposing or suggesting we move in together. “I just suggested a drink. If she’s not interested, then—”
“Mate, she’s interested. I saw it when she was in the pub with us that night.”
“In the pub? We hardly knew each other then.”
“Trust me. I know what a woman looks like when she’s into a guy. And you were taken with her as well. There was something about the two of you. You just fit together.”
Dexter described exactly how I felt—it was like we were two sides of the same coin. But the feeling clearly wasn’t mutual. I shrugged. “You know what I’m like. I’m not a good boyfriend anyway.”
“You know what I’m going to say to that,” he warned. “You’re not a good boyfriend because you don’t care about the women you spend time with.”
“So, if your theories are correct, if Stella had been the right woman, I’d have chased after her.”
“No, you’d be sitting in the pub, nursing a pint of water, brooding because you got knocked back and it’s the first time it’s ever happened.”
I picked up my pint, hoping he’d continue but not wanting to ask him to explain further.
“I’ve never seen you in a bad mood because a woman turned down an invitation to dinner or drinks or whatever.”
I couldn’t remember it ever happening.
“It’s bound to have happened before, but I bet you don’t remember because you never gave a shit before. But with Stella, it’s different. I can tell.”
I didn’t want to say he was right, but Dexter was right—she was different. Stella seemed to get me. Know me. Not just because she knew my mother’s occupation and how I liked my steak—she knew my soul. “I can’t make her date me, Dexter. She said no.”
“She doesn’t trust herself. Doesn’t trust you. You need to woo her. Keep showing her what a good man you are, and she’ll come around.”
“I shouldn’t have to convince someone to date me.” I’d seen how Stella could go along with things to make other people happy. I wanted her to really want me. To actively choose to be with me. I didn’t want to have to persuade her.
“This isn’t about how she feels about you.
It’s all about how she feels about the world.
Be the guy who makes the world safe for her.
If Stella’s the woman for you, then it’s your job to give her what she needs.
And she needs to know she’s safe with you.
She needs to understand you’re not going to fuck her over.
And take it from me, every woman needs to know that she’s worth fighting for. ”
She definitely deserved all of those things.
“If she’s as important to you as I think she is,” Dexter continued. “Don’t let anything stand in your way. The man who sired you turned his back on you, but that’s not what Stella is doing. She’s not rejecting you—she’s protecting herself.”
I let Dexter’s words settle. When something was important to me, I worked to get what I wanted, to prove that I was worthy. I tapped the edge of my pint glass. But I hadn’t fought for Stella. Hadn’t even stated my case. Dexter was right—it was because I didn’t want to risk being rejected. Again.
I knew I didn’t want to lose someone as important as Stella was, just because I was scared. I wasn’t going to let my past dictate my future. Henry selling me the Dawnay building was the end of that chapter in my life.
And Stella London was in my future. Of that I was certain.