Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
August 2024
T he book signing went on for another three hours. Stella felt her hand cramp from signing her name; she felt an ache in her jaw from smiling, smiling, smiling. She’d wanted to put her art into the world all her life. She was grateful to her fans, thankful to her agent, and appreciated this strange and exhilarating life she’d built.
But everything had cratered in on itself today. James Atkinson had stormed back into her life and then run away.
She would never forget the unreality she felt when he waved his hand and asked a question. She’d fallen deep into his eyes; memories had coursed through her.
She’d wanted to scream, Why now?
Although the answers were obvious, The Athens Affair was everywhere. It had gone viral on social media. It was discussed on podcasts, radio shows, and television news broadcasts. It was reviewed by NPR.
James had recognized her name. Maybe he’d even thought, How dare she tell my story?
Stella had, admittedly, not thought of James much throughout the writing process and marketing this book. Well, she’d thought of James, but not modern James. James was in his forties. In fact, it occurred to her now, as she helped Esme and her daughters clean up the book launch, that she’d considered James to be living on another planet entirely. As though the minute they walked out of each other’s lives, he’d ceased to exist.
But apparently, he was just in the city. New York City, to be exact.
A five-hour drive away.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Has he been here the entire time?
Will I ever find out?
Esme approached when the chairs were put away and the extra food was packed in the fridge. She hugged Stella with tears in her eyes.
“You were marvelous, honey,” she said.
Esme did not ask about the gentleman who’d caused such a stir. Maybe she sensed Stella needed time to think.
Stella hugged the rest of her family goodbye. They gathered downstairs at the Sutton Book Club, drinking coffee and discussing evening plans.
“What do you say, Stella?” her father asked. “You want to grab some dinner?”
Stella imagined herself out to dinner with her father, mother, and siblings. She imagined herself going through the motions as her brain shut down with panic about James.
“Let’s grab dinner tomorrow,” she said. “I’m beat.”
“It’s a date,” her mother said, hugging her tightly. “We’re so proud of you.”
Stella thought they really were, in their own way.
Stella drove back home with her hands at ten and two as phone calls came from her agent, her editor, and three of her friends. It was clear to Stella that only one topic was on their minds: the mystery man she’d chased outside the Sutton Book Club.
Those photographs would probably generate book sales.
But they might put Stella and James into a world of hurt, too. Again.
Once upon a time, they’d been anonymous twentysomethings with very little money, exploring Greece together.
Now, they were thrust into the public eye. All because of Stella.
Her stomach sloshed.
There was a reason I called him “J” in the book, she thought as she touched the brake. She realized she was driving too quickly. I wanted to respect his privacy. If he hadn’t come today, nobody would have ever known.
But she couldn’t blame him for coming. Curiosity was James Atkinson’s best trait. It was why she’d been drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
Stella parked in the garage next to Matt’s car. It took her nearly a full minute to realize this was strange. Why is Matt here? She’d known Matt was going to drop Chloe off, but she’d assumed he’d head home after that.
But it was such a comfort to enter through the garage door and find Matt and Chloe on the sofa in the living room. The television was on low, and they were drinking diet sodas and chatting as though it was the simplest thing in the world. Stella wanted to sink into the sofa between them and fall asleep.
“There she is! The famous novelist!” Matt got up to hug her and grab her a diet soda. “What can we get you? Food? Wine?”
Stella rubbed her temples. “Wine sounds amazing.” She’d had only half a glass at the book launch, which had been hours ago.
“I’ll have a glass, too,” Matt said.
Matt got into the wine cabinet as Stella clambered onto the sofa with her daughter. Matt spoke to himself as he decided on which bottle to open. Many of them had been purchased throughout their travels over the years to wineries and wine bars across the States. They’d wanted to develop an “intellectual” taste for wine. When Matt moved out, Stella reminded him that the wine collection was half his. She hadn’t added to it.
It meant they were divorced from each other in every way—save for the wine collection and their children.
With a jolt, Stella remembered Mandy.
“Where’s Mandy?”
Matt’s tone was easy. “She had a little more work to do back at home. But she wanted me to pass along another congratulations.”
Stella’s heart sank the slightest bit. But soon, Matt appeared with a glass of wine, and she let herself relax into the evening. She and Matt clinked glasses, then clinked with Chloe’s diet soda. Logan sent another round of text messages to congratulate Stella. She felt floaty. She refused to read the messages from her agent, editor, and friends, though. She didn’t want to engage in conversation about that mystery man.
Was James on the island right now? Had he stayed? Something told her he hadn’t.
Matt stayed till after Chloe went upstairs. This was a surprise to Stella. His eyes were shadowed.
“You okay?” Stella asked under her breath. Chloe liked to eavesdrop.
Matt took a sip of wine. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.”
Stella’s heartbeat quickened. She shifted to the other side of the couch. A cavern opened between them.
How many times have we cuddled on this sofa? Thousands of times?
Maybe I should get a new sofa.
“I wanted to ask him what his deal was,” Matt said. “I approached him and introduced myself. I asked him if he was him.”
Stella raised her eyebrows. They were already in James territory. “You told him you were my ex-husband?”
Matt nodded.
“Huh.” Stella didn’t know what to make of this. She filled her mouth with wine.
“So he is the guy?” Matt asked.
Stella blinked at him. They’d never spoken about Greece. She’d never shared a single detail about her time there.
Does this mean Matt read my memoir?
“You know, I always knew something big happened to you over there,” Matt said quietly. He looked pained. “I could never get my mind around it. I wanted to ask you questions about it, but I knew you had closed that part of your brain off.”
Stella was amazed. They’d been married for fifteen years. They’d had two children. And Matt had always been nervous about asking Stella about a brief love affair she’d had in Greece.
“I wasn’t jealous, exactly,” Matt said, hemming and hawing. “I just knew you left a piece of yourself there when you came back. And I knew I would never get to know that part.”
Matt reached forward to touch a copy of The Athens Affair on the coffee table. “Your book let me through that window and into that part of you.”
Stella swallowed. She couldn’t believe Matt was being so open to her about this.
A part of her wondered, If we’d talked about this earlier, would we have been able to save our marriage?
But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?
Matt cracked a smile and set down his empty glass of wine. “I probably sound stupid to you. But even after everything, it makes me sad to know you could never love me like that.”
Stella was speechless. Silence thickened between them. Matt got up, poured himself a glass of water, and drank it in a single gulp.
Stella wanted to protest. She wanted to say, I did love you! So much! But she couldn’t find the words. Already, Matt was reaching for his car keys. He’d only had a glass of wine, she was pretty sure. But was it really safe for him to drive? Then again, she didn’t want to ask him to stay after what he’d just said.
It was as though they’d discovered another wound in their marriage.
Maybe it wasn’t healthy that they hung out like this.
Perhaps their friendship was too precarious.
Stella got up from the sofa and zipped up her sweatshirt. She felt as though her body didn’t belong to her.
“Drive safe and text me when you get home, okay?” she said.
Matt couldn’t look at her. “Good night, Stella. And congratulations again.”
Upstairs, Stella washed her face, brushed her teeth, flossed, and got into bed alone. It was after eleven, and she could hear the soft murmur of her daughter’s computer down the hall. Sleep wouldn’t find her easily.
And she didn’t want to think about Matt.
So she did what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do.
She pulled out her phone and checked her messages.
Immediately, she was launched into the world of James Atkinson.
GWEN COTTRILL: Honey, you did amazing today. But why didn’t you tell me you were still in contact with J????
GWEN COTTRILL: We could have used that!
GWEN COTTRILL: Wait. My sources are telling me that you were not expecting him there. Those photographs read like you’re SURPRISED. Okay, this is going to do wonders for book sales.
GWEN COTTRILL: Give me a call in the morning. They want you AND James on Good Morning, America! Let’s set it up.
Stella closed her eyes. A wave of fear rolled over her. But now that she’d opened Pandora’s box, she had to see.
Stella found the tabloid photographs immediately. In them, she saw two forty-something people seeing one another for the first time in more than twenty years. Stella looked shocked and angry; her face was beet red. And James looked rugged and handsome and cool.
The headlines read:
“Memoirist Meets Ex-Lover After Twenty Years”
“Ex-Lover Crashes Book Launch of Memoir About Him!”
“A Nantucket Surprise! Stella Sutton’s Ex-Lover “J” Revealed!”
The journalists and tabloid writers had worked out who James was easily. And so, for the first time, Stella allowed herself to read about who James was in the year 2024.
James Atkinson was a quasi-famous music journalist who’d interviewed everyone from Paul McCartney to Frank Baxter to Alice Coltrane. He split his time between London and New York but had spent a few pandemic years in the Florida Keys, where he wrote and listened to music to pass his days. He was previously in bands in London but quit playing music in the early 2000s. He was the father of famous internet personality and musician Taylor Atkinson.
There was a video from Taylor Atkinson on TikTok. Stella took a breath and clicked.
There she was—beautiful Taylor Atkinson. She had her father’s eyes. She was speaking to the camera with her hands clasped, saying, “Thousands of you have reached out about an incident on Nantucket Island today involving my father. I just want to say that I am not at liberty to discuss my father’s personal life at this time. I hate being cagey with my followers, but family privacy is family privacy. I have plans to meet with him next week to discuss this further. I hope I can share more details with you then.” She smiled. She had a bass guitar strapped around her shoulders. “Until then, buy Stella Sutton’s book! It’s incredible! We have to support women artists! Ciao, babies!”
Taylor cut the video.
Stella sat up in bed and crossed her arms. Outside, it was pitch black, and the ocean crashed against the waves. It felt as though a storm was coming. Stella wasn’t sure if it was a real storm or just a metaphorical one—one meant to flip her world upside down.
She was frightened.