Chapter 12
jonas
Annie Oakley: I’m watching Suits for the first time. One of the characters reminds me so much of you.
Jonas: I think they actually used me as inspo for Mike.
Annie Oakley: Oh… I was talking about Louis.
Jonas: Easy, Blondie. Your Christmas gift might not make it this year if you keep that up.
Annie Oakley: Don’t make threats you can’t keep. My new Hermes tea set showed up this morning. Thank you, by the way.
Jonas: Oh, that was just the stocking stuffer. Your real gift is delivering tomorrow.
My thumbs hover over the text as I smile to myself.
Taylor Nova fell into my life and brightened it with her hundred different ideas a mile a minute, and the way she dives headfirst into everything, even when she’s scared.
When she moved halfway across the world after falling in love with her rugby-playing, super-hero body-having, now-husband, I was nervous we would lose that.
So much of our relationship was built on a zero-expectation friendship.
From the night I met Taylor—even in our drunken stupor—I could tell she was looking for something more from her life.
Whereas I was resigned to the fact that even if I did want something more, this was likely it for me.
It worked for us, though. When her best friend moved out of their shared apartment, I would lie on her couch and act as her body double while she cleaned.
When I didn’t want to feed into the party boy lifestyle I had unintentionally built for myself, she was on my couch binge-watching shows with me.
We might not see each other every day now, but our friendship continues.
It just revolves around sending each other social media clips and videos on three separate platforms while texting about something completely different.
I’m about to text her back when an incoming call from my other best friend flashes across the screen.
“Boss.”
“What’s the update?” Miles’s no-nonsense voice gets right to the point.
“What, no hello? No, I miss you?”
“I’m assuming you don’t have an update, so here’s mine—Thomas Kettela will be arriving this afternoon.”
“Oof. Tough time for a firing. Contrary to what you think, I did get some information. Diego is coming in this week for a wedding.”
“At Christmas?”
“Weird, right? That’s what I thought, too.”
“Alright, well, either way. Get it done. Samantha has been on my ass about sending you there.”
Of course she has. I graduated top of my year, and my billables continue to speak for themselves, but I’d be lying to myself if I thought she hired me for any other reason than who my parents are.
I’m about to tell him maybe he should have come himself, spent a few days at this beautiful resort with his beautiful wife, but the breath is knocked out of my lungs when Stella comes out of the bathroom.
Her white tank top stops just below her breasts, and the long, emerald green skirt leaves nothing to the imagination, the way it hugs every single dip and curve of her body.
She’s fastening some new gold earrings in.
These ones are decorated with gold starfish at the end to match the gold chain draped across her waist. Her eyes meet mine, with a playful smile pulling on her lips, and I blink my eyes, clearing my throat.
“I’ll handle it.” I hang up before Miles can respond, and pocket my phone.
“See anything you like, Mr. Jonas?” Her voice is teasing, but the way her body saunters toward me is no joke.
“Oh, I’m seeing–” I take her hands, holding them out so my eyes can feast on her, “—everything I like, Mrs. Jonas.”
Dinner is what I’ve come to expect from my short time with the Clarke family. Mariana has been telling stories that date back to before Stella was born. Lilianna and Lucas engage in conversation while also tending to their girls. Marco, well, he taps away on his phone.
“Stock market or something,” Stella whispers in my ear when I’m caught trying to figure him out.
I place my hand on her leg under the table, getting lost in the feel of her as I slide my fingers over the smooth material of her skirt.
“Stella, how’s work going?”
Stella’s muscles flex beneath my hand at Isabelle’s question. She shifts forward in her seat, grabs her water, and takes a small drink. “Good,” she says, forcing a smile around the cup.
It’s so subtle, but I’ve noticed the difference in her when we’re around her family versus when we’re alone. It makes sense given what she shared with me earlier, but I can’t help wanting to smash any ounce of doubt or reason that has ever made her feel even slightly less than.
Isabelle either gets the hint or she’s satisfied with that answer; I’m not sure which, but she moves on. Not a moment later, the table erupts in laughter when Marianna makes Callum show everyone the tan line from where he fell asleep with his goggles on his stomach this afternoon.
I cut into the last bit of my chicken, but I’m distracted by the squirming beside me. Maya and Ella are bouncing up and down, with matching wide eyes on the grassy area behind us. I turn in my seat, finding the brightly painted cornhole set they’re fixated on.
“Do you play?” I ask like it’s a weekly game of poker.
Their smiles grow ear to ear.
“Can you take us?”
I look to Lilianna, seeking confirmation that it’s okay. After a moment of disbelief, her eyebrows still raised, she nods her head.
“Let’s do it,” I say, standing from my chair. “But just because you’re three doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you.”
They don’t wait for me before taking off in a wobbly sprint across the grass. I drop my napkin on the table, give a quick kiss to the top of Stella’s head, and laugh at the shock on her face as I chase after the girls.
“Alright, rules,” I say, picking up one of the bean bags. Maya doesn’t wait, but rather picks up her own, runs up the ramp, and shoves it in the hole, causing both girls to start squealing. “Yeah, who cares about rules?” I toss my bag, sinking it, and the girls cheer even louder.
Ella grabs a handful of the bean bags, and I crouch down, scoop her up, and in her shrill of surprise, she loses two bags.
Maya starts chasing us, and when her little hands brush my calf, I pretend to stumble, setting Ella down carefully beside me.
I pant like I’m out of breath, and they act like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever seen.
I sit up, and both girls tackle each of my legs.
“Ahhh! What are these little leg monsters?” I ask, pretending to struggle against one.
Their fits of giggles are so pure and genuine, I find myself laughing with them. By the time I’ve peeled one off, the other has wrapped all four limbs around my leg, leaving the other trying to catch her breath from her bursts of laughter and her balance from our wrestling match.
I make some crazy noises that only fuel the laughter, but dark strands of hair and a spot of green catch in my periphery.
Stella stands watching us from a few feet away.
Her hand is at her forehead, blocking the lazy sun, and she’s so beautiful, I swear the sun set just so she could bask in its glow.