Chapter 13
stella
When I woke this morning, the weight of everything I’ve been keeping to myself for so long had been lifted, and a new and unfamiliar sense of confusion sits in its place. The uncertainty starts in my head, but I can feel it making its way down to my chest.
My stomach flutters at the memory of Jonas running around, chasing the girls last night after dinner. Ellas’s fit of giggles as he swooped her up and spun her around with the glowing sun setting as their backdrop will be an image I’ll remember forever.
There’s something so effortless about the way he not only fits in with my family but also the way I’m able to open up to him.
I’ve always kept my feelings bottled up because it’s always felt safer that way.
No one can tell me I’m being dramatic or don’t understand.
But with Jonas, it’s just easy. He flashes that perfect smile against his sun-kissed skin, and suddenly I’m sharing every thought I’ve ever had.
I was with Aiden for six months, and we never went beyond surface-level shit, but I guess in the back of my mind, I always knew it wouldn’t work out with him.
It’s obvious now that I desperately just wanted one part of my life to be successful.
I didn’t care that it never quite felt right; instead, I only cared about how it looked.
Logically, I know that in three days’ time, all of this goes away.
But nothing about what we’re doing anymore feels fake.
I like to think I have a good read on Jonas, and between all the ways he finds to softly touch me, take an interest, and even show concern for me, I’m willing to gamble that these feelings aren’t just one-sided.
Palm trees sway in the soft breeze outside the window, and I reach my hand over to the empty space in the bed beside me, watching the morning sunlight glint off my rings.
I drag the pillow from his unmade side, bringing it to my face and hiding my smile in it.
His scent lingers; it’s not heavy, but it’s just enough of him that I breathe in a little deeper.
A loud buzzing sound has me sitting up and throwing the pillow back. I look around the room, finding the source of the sound on the dresser at the end of the bed. I should ignore it, but I’m assuming Jonas is out for his run, so I pad across the room and look down the phone.
A photo of a beautiful, blonde woman sticking her tongue out beside Jonas, who is holding a fluffy black cat on his head, flashes with an incoming FaceTime call. Gorgeous, rolling, green hills set the perfect backdrop for a romantic trip.
The screen goes dark, and I drop the phone, unaware of when I picked it up in the first place. I stumble back until my legs hit the bed, and I plop down on top of it.
I scrub my eyes before dragging my fingers through my hair and letting out an aggravated groan.
My thoughts begin a marathon sprint, and I can’t focus on one problem over the other.
I’ve not only roped a man into pretending to be my boyfriend, but I’m staying with him.
I’m sleeping in the same bed as him, for fuck’s sake.
“Oh my god,” I murmur to myself, fidgeting with my rings. Just minutes ago, I had convinced myself this was something. That something was really happening here. I shove aside the gutted feeling attempting to take root in my stomach, just long enough to let the anger bloom.
My neck grows hot thinking of what he’s done, especially because he knows. He knows what happened with Aiden. This entire mess started because of what happened with Aiden. And now here I am being made to be the other woman?
I stand from the bed, heading to the bathroom on a war path, but I catch movement from the corner of my eye on the patio.
Jonas is sitting at the table, wearing nothing more than his running shorts as he sips his coffee with one hand and types something on his laptop with the other.
I snatch the phone from the dresser, and in my overdrive of emotions, I don’t even remember to grab a robe before storming outside.
“Morning, sleepy head,” he greets me, completely oblivious to my annoyance.
“Here.” I throw his phone at him, but his reflexes are quick and he catches it with one hand. “Your girlfriend called.”
His eyebrows pinch together, but then he looks down at the screen and has the fucking gall to laugh. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t want to hear any of the things that have been said since arriving here.
” I turn on my heel, but then stop—I’m not quite done.
“And for the record, when I asked why you were still single, that would have been the perfect time to tell me that you are, in fact, not.” I throw my hands up, but don’t trust myself to continue, so I turn to go back inside.
My foot hovers in the air, and I don’t even make it one step before the warmth of Jonas’s hand engulfs my wrist, and freezes me to the spot.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m—”
“I mean, you’re cute all the time, but right now.
” He pulls me to stand between his legs, and I rest a hand on his bare shoulder for balance.
“Gorgeous,” he says, trailing the palm of his hand up my outer thigh.
“Sexy.” His forehead is warm against my stomach, and his hands slide around until his fingers are tracing the underside of my ass.
I melt into his touch, and his answering moan hypnotizes me.
His hair is shorter on the sides, but I run my fingers through the top, gripping it at the root as his hands knead into my backside and he pulls me in closer to him.
I’m already slick between my legs, and as soon as that realization hits, I push against his chest and out of his hold.
“We-we can’t.”
“Stella.” He says my name like it’s a plea on his tongue. “You’re too fucking smart to think I would be doing any of this if I had a girlfriend.”
“What?”
He smiles, completely disarming me, and my knees are so weak I practically fall into the chair across from him.
“That call was from Taylor,” he says, picking up his phone.
“She’s one of my best friends. And this—” he turns his phone to show me a photo of the stunning blonde getting a piggyback ride from a man four times her size, “—is her husband.” His thumb swipes right to a photo of Jonas and the extra-large man, each holding the world’s largest and darkest glasses of beer I’ve ever seen.
I tug at the spaghetti straps of my top, avoiding eye contact when he hands me his phone, and tells me to swipe through the photos of his last trip to Stoney Meadow, Ireland.
I feel ridiculous for having such an extreme reaction.
And then I’m overwhelmed with the reality of how serious my feelings have become.
“As for the reason I’m single, I just haven’t met someone who’s interested in more than just a Saturday night.”
I am.
The thought of only having a limited number of days left with Jonas physically makes my chest ache.
“Every woman I’ve met sees me as the short-term fun guy, not the long-term relationship guy.”
Now doesn’t feel like the right time to point out that, yeah, I’m sure some women do only see him for a right place, right time situation, but the fact is, the rest probably count their lucky stars from the one night and don’t believe they have a shot in hell with anything beyond that.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and his calloused hands cover the tops of my thighs.
“Are we good?”
I bite back my embarrassment and lift my chin slightly.
“Good.” He leans back, taking a slow sip of his coffee before handing me his mug, and says, “Trust me, Mrs. Jonas, you’re my only girlfriend.”