Chapter 37
thirty-seven
. . .
Stella
“Stop fidgeting with your bow tie,” I say, watching Brandon adjust it for the fourth time in the bathroom mirror. “You look perfect.”
“Easy for you to say. You're not about to meet your girlfriend's father for the first time.” He runs his good hand through his hair, careful not to mess up the styling. His cast comes off next week, and he's been counting down the days.
I step behind him, smooth down his collar, and meet his eyes in the mirror. “My father is going to love you. Just like everyone else does.”
“I hope your mother put in a good word for me. She loves me,” he says as he gives me a wink. He knows good and well how much my mother adores him.
“I'm sure she did.” I tease him.
His phone buzzes on the counter, and he glances down at it. His entire expression changes, with tension melting into relief and excitement.
“Helena?” I ask.
He nods and turns the phone so I can see the message.
Helena
Welcome to the PACE team, Brandon. Just emailed the shoot schedule for the next six weeks.
Looking forward to working with you.
This is going to be incredible.
“Brandon, that's amazing!” I throw my arms around him, careful of his cast. “I'm so proud of you.”
“Coordinating instead of performing,” he says, still staring at the message like he can't quite believe it. “This is really happening.”
“This is just the beginning,” I tell him, meaning every word. “You're going to be brilliant at this. Better than you ever were at throwing yourself off buildings.”
“Think so?”
“I know so.” I reach up to fix his bow tie one last time. “Now, come on. Let's go show my parents what a power couple looks like.”
Crystal chandeliers cast warm light across the marble floors, where designer gowns and tailored tuxedos mingle beneath soaring ceilings draped in ivory silk.
The air hums with champagne glasses clinking and the gentle murmur of guests discussing their latest philanthropic endeavors over the scent of white orchids arranged in towering centerpieces.
It's exactly the kind of elegant venue that makes my father's company events feel important.
We make our way through the crowd, and I can feel Brandon's nervous energy beside me.
“There's my beautiful daughter,” my father's voice booms as he approaches with open arms. “You look radiant, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” I hug him tightly, then turn to Brandon. “This is Brandon Grimaldi. Brandon, my father, Robert Rhodes.”
“Mr. Rhodes, it's an honor to meet you,” Brandon says, extending his hand.
“The honor's mine,” my father replies, giving Brandon the kind of firm handshake that's meant to take the measure of a man. “I've heard wonderful things about you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Stella tells me you coordinate stunt scenes for films?”
“I do. Actually, I just got confirmation today that I'll be working on a new racing series for the next six weeks. It's a big change for me career-wise.”
“Congratulations. That sounds like exciting work.” My father's approval is evident in his voice.
“Your daughter convinced me it was time to use my brain instead of just my body,” Brandon says with a smile.
“Smart woman, my Stella. Always has been.”
The conversation flows easily from there, and I can see my father genuinely warming to Brandon. They talk about work, about Los Angeles, about Brandon's family in New York.
“There you are,” my mother says as she approaches. “You look stunning, Stella. And Brandon, you look very handsome tonight.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Rhodes. You look beautiful.”
“Such a charmer.” She beams at him, then turns to me. “Darling, I was just talking to Patricia Wrigley about her daughter's wedding. Such a lovely affair. Of course, she had the advantage of planning for two years.”
“Mama,” I warn.
“I was just wondering if you've given marriage any more thought.”
“We haven't been together that long.” I grip Brandon's hand tightly. I'm not embarrassed about her asking me about marrying Brandon. Honestly, I think he would probably marry me today if I wanted him to. It's that my mother needs to know that I don't have to marry him.
“I know, sweetheart, but when you know, you know. And Brandon seems like such a stable, reliable man. The kind who could really take care of you.”
“Actually, Mrs. Rhodes,” Brandon says gently, “I think it's more that we take care of each other. Stella's incredibly capable on her own.”
“Of course she is, but surely, there's room for other priorities as well. Family, stability, and she can step back from work when the time comes.”
Something inside me snaps. Heat floods my chest and spreads up my neck like a wildfire.
My hands are trembling slightly, but not from nerves; no, instead, it's from years of swallowed words finally demanding to be spoken.
This is it, the moment I've been avoiding my entire life, and my heart is hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“Mama, stop.” The words come out sharper than I intended, but I don't take them back.
My voice sounds stronger and more certain than I've ever heard it.
“My career isn't a temporary thing until something better comes along.
This is my life. This is what I've chosen, and I'm not going to apologize for it.”
Brandon steps closer to me and wraps his arm around my waist in a show of support. The warmth of his hand on my hip steadies me, gives me the courage to keep going even as my mother's eyes widen in shock.
“Sweetheart, I just think—”
“No.” I shake my head. Adrenaline makes my skin feel electric, and every nerve in my body is singing with the rush of finally speaking my truth.
“I love you, but I'm not going to make myself smaller to fit into someone else's idea of what my life should look like.
I'm successful, I'm happy, and Brandon supports that completely.”
The words taste like freedom on my tongue, even as my stomach churns with the fear of having disappointed her. But underneath that fear is relief so profound it makes my knees weak.
My mother's face cycles through several emotions: surprise, hurt, and finally something that might be understanding.
“You're absolutely right,” my father says quietly, stepping closer to us. “Your mother and I are proud of you, Stella. Everything you've accomplished.”
“We are proud,” my mother says after a moment, her voice softer now. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Mama. Really, truly happy.”
She looks between Brandon and me, and I can see her processing what just happened. “You really meant what you said, didn't you? About supporting her career?”
“Completely,” Brandon says without hesitation. “I fell in love with Stella exactly as she is. I love that she's ambitious, driven, and passionate about her work. I'd never want to change that.”
“Even if it means late nights and travel and putting work first sometimes?”
“Especially then. Caroline, your daughter is extraordinary at what she does. The world needs more women like her in positions of power, not fewer.”
My mother is quiet for a long moment, and I can see her adjusting her expectations in real time. Finally, she reaches over and squeezes Brandon's arm.
“I can see why she chose you,” she says softly. “You really do see her, don't you?”
“Every day,” he replies as his eyes find mine.
My mother nods, and something settles in her expression. “Well then. I suppose I need to adjust my dreams of garden parties and Junior League meetings.”
“You could always dream about film premieres and award shows instead,” I suggest tentatively.
She laughs, and for the first time tonight, it sounds completely genuine. “You know what? I think I could get used to that.”
The tension breaks, and conversation resumes around us. My father claps Brandon on the shoulder with obvious approval, and my mother wraps me in a hug, her way of apologizing and approving of me.
“Want to get some air?” Brandon murmurs in my ear a few minutes later.
I nod, and he leads me to the hotel's terrace. The night air is warm, and the city lights twinkle below us.
“I'm proud of you,” he says as soon as we're alone. “That took real courage.”
“It felt good. Scary, but good.” I lean against the railing, processing what just happened. “I can't believe I actually stood up to her.”
“I can. You're the strongest person I know.”
He moves to stand behind me and wraps his good arm around my waist. We stand like that for a moment, looking out over the city, both of us processing the evening.
“Stella,” he says finally, his voice serious. “I have something to ask you.”
I turn in his arms, studying his face. “What is it?”
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a key. “There's a two-bedroom opening up in our building. Better kitchen, bigger living space, amazing view of the city.”
My heart starts racing as I realize what he's asking.
“Move in with me,” he says, his eyes intense. “Not across the hall, not as neighbors who sometimes sleep over. Really move in. Build something together.”
“Brandon.”
“I know it's a big step.” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I don't want to waste any more time. I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. I want to merge our lives completely.”
I look at this man who sees exactly who I am and loves me for it, who supports my dreams instead of asking me to shrink them, who just watched me have the hardest conversation of my life and couldn't be prouder.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, absolutely yes.”