Chapter 41
Forty-One
The Everlys always loved Christmas. They always made it special. I’m grateful the season has just begun. That I have time to think of more festive events to coordinate for my wife. Because so far, I’m failing at holiday happenings.
I cut her down a tree—after making her cry. And we decorated said tree. Now, with her prodding, we’ve Christmas shopped. The end.
Pathetic.
“And now, we’re ice skating?” she asks after we leave the Tesoro shopping center. She bobbles her head. “I mean, of course we’re ice skating, you bought me skates. I’m guessing you don’t plan to go dancing in ice skates.”
A chuckle rumbles in my chest, and I reach over, lacing my fingers through Stella’s. She’s nervous—her ramblings say as much. The thing is, I don’t want Stella to ever be anxious around me. I want to be a calming place. I want to be where she goes when the world is chaos.
“Yes, skating. Do you skate?”
“Not really. You?” Her fingers tighten in mine. She already sounds steadier, and I only hope it’s the pressure of my hand in hers.
“I do … but maybe don’t tell my coach that.”
She turns on me. “You aren’t supposed to skate?”
I give a small shrug. “Not without permission.” Is that how my contract states it? The Player agrees not to engage in any activity that risks injury without prior consent. “We’re a minor team, but we still have restrictions. We’re still being paid to play.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this,” she says, just as I pull into the parking lot of the Silver Pine Lodge.
Every Christmas since I’ve lived in Tesoro, the lodge gets strung with lights, top to bottom. The trees around the pond are all lit and decorated too. Every year I visit, wanting to skate here. But I don’t.
Stella chokes down her next comment as the lights come into view.
“If I was willing to commit fraud for you, what gives you the idea that I’m worried about a little skating?” I say.
She titters out a nervous laugh as I pull into a parking space. “But Roman—”
“No buts. I’m taking my girl skating,” I say. I lean across the console and press a kiss to her cheek.
Stella’s face blooms pink, and I’m so tempted to plant a kiss to her lips just to see what color her face would turn.
I lead Stella to the park benches surrounding the frozen pond. We sit and pull out our skates.
“This is a man-made pond,” I tell her.
She glances my way, slipping out of her tennis shoes and into one of the skates I bought for her. “Oh yeah?” She peers out where twinkle lights create a whimsical glow all around the lake and lodge.
The night that skunk hit her, I knew I wanted to bring her here.
“Why? With Lake Tesoro, why would they need this place?” She leans down to tie the laces of her boot. “Don’t get me wrong. This place is …” She sits up, looking around at the pines, lights, and wonderment. Her lips part in a grin. I am so tempted to shut them up with a kiss. “Magical.”
“It’s only cold enough to freeze the ponds around Tesoro in December and January. So, to ensure that people can skate outside, they created this place. The water is shallow, and they use a refrigeration system to keep it cold enough all winter long.”
Stella breathes out a laugh, her eyes studying me. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve been here before. Not normally in December. Too busy. I met the caretaker once, and he told me all about it.”
With both of her feet skated up, Stella inches over the seat of the bench until her side touches mine. “Too many people? Do you think you’ll ever be a people person again? You once were, you know.”
“I know.” And I know that I’ve been more like my old self since Stella came back into my life. “Maybe. Maybe not. This might be who I am now.”
She told me that once upon a time, she had a crush on me. Is she still looking for that kid? Because I’m not sure he exists anymore.
“It is and it’s not. You’re still you, Roman. You’re just a more refined version. Even if you don’t see it, I do.”
“You mean a battle-tested version?” I say, but my tone is light.
She lifts a hand to my cheek. “I mean refined. We all have scars. It’s part of life.”
“I suppose it is.”
Stella pushes herself up off the bench. “Ready to go?” She’s wobbly, though, and her arms fly outward, searching for balance.
I stand, catching one of them, helping steady her.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she says with another wobble. “What if you break your neck and can’t play? Your coach will kill us.”
“I’m not going to break my neck,” I say.
Stella wobbles again, and her free hand flares out once more. Using my opposite hand, I take hers and fold it into the crook of my arm. She holds on while I guide us toward the ice.
“Well, I might break mine,” she says.
“Only, I’m not going to let that happen.” I pat her hand through my arm and step onto the ice. Stella does not follow, though.
She frowns at me. “You’re good at this, aren’t you?”
“I’m all right at this.”
She huffs, her eyes darting to the sky. “You’re kind of good at everything.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I gently tug on her arm until she has both feet on the ice. “Bend your knees. We’re going to take small gliding steps.”
Stella follows my lead and keeps talking. “It’s not a bad thing. But if you haven’t noticed, I’m not great at everything. Half the time, I’m unsure if I’m great at the things I’m supposed to be great at. While you are—”
“You are great,” I tell her.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just—”
“It does matter. Stella, you are good at what you do. Everything you do. Even getting sprayed by that skunk. You did that magnificently. I’ve seen those skunks a dozen times, but you really crossed them.”
She chortles, her eyes on her feet. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment. I was going to say, I’m trying not to worry about my skill. I want to love what I do. And while I am still very uncertain about ice skating, I love pottery. I love creating.”
I lift her chin, forcing her to look up. “I’m glad you love what you do, Stell. And for reference, let me give you an outsider’s opinion. You are talented.” My eyes drop to her mouth. She makes me feel this desperate need to kiss her, to hold her. She’s like food and water; she’s sustenance.
Like there is a magnetic force pulling me in, I lean close and peck her lips.
“An outsider, huh?” she says. “You just kissed me, and earlier you called me your girl. That doesn’t feel like an outsider.”
“Did I say that?”
“You did.”
“So maybe not exactly an outsider,” I say.
Stella keeps her feet moving. She keeps her small gliding steps going, and we make it halfway around this pond, skating side by side, getting passed by old and young alike. But I don’t care. I only see Stella.
“What did you mean by that, Roman?” she says after several glides of silence. “My girl?”
I clear my throat, my pulse sending thrums to every artery in my body. “I guess it felt right.”
She glances back down at her feet, but returns her gaze to my face, never loosening her death grip on my arm. “What does that mean?”
I have been living with this woman for weeks. I have slept in her bed, my arms around her for days. Why would I make something up that’s so far from the truth?
“Do me a favor,” I say. “I’m not avoiding the question. Just do me this favor. Look around. The trees. The lights. The lodge. We are in a Christmas wonderland. You need to see it.”
She swallows and takes her gaze from mine. Her steps are short and rhythmic, her hand around my arm tightens, but she’s looking. Her cheeks have grown more pink in the cold and her green eyes, unmasked by glasses, are bright as she peers around. “It’s beautiful,” she says, still looking.
“So are you. My life felt pretty dim before you came. You are infuriatingly humble. You’re stubborn and kind.
You force me into social situations I’d never otherwise get involved with.
And whenever I touch you, I feel like I’m coming home.
” I clear my throat, and Stella’s eyes glisten with unshed tears.
“Like I said before, I like you, Stella. And more than a little. I know it hasn’t been that long, but we are married. ”
Her gliding stops and she studies my face.
“So maybe I could call you my girl.”
“Yeah, maybe you could,” she says, looking at me now.
Her hold on me loosens and I skate out of her grasp, standing right in front of her. “What if we gave this marriage a shot?”
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t look away. Her eyes search mine, and I’m almost ready to kiss her, when her feet are moving. Racing, but not going anywhere. I reach out, I lunge, but Stella’s even good at falling. Before I can completely wrap one arm around her—smack, she’s on the ground.