Chapter 38
Stella
Walking home in the cold is getting real old real fast. I almost miss the forceful way James would stuff me into his car and take me home.
Mmmmm and that seat heater. I may not be a car girl, but I can appreciate certain extras.
I almost blow right past the spindly blonde woman smoking on my stoop. She puts out her cigarette as I slow down, approaching cautiously. I didn’t expect to see Mrs. Finlay out in the wild, much less at my apartment.
Although, it’s not like she doesn’t own the freaking building, I think to myself as her threat from earlier floats through my head. My muscles lock up, sensing the danger I may be in.
“Can I help you?” I call from the bottom step.
Great, now she’s literally above me, I grumble to myself.
“You already have,” she says, a wicked thread of glee in her voice.
She walks down until we’re almost nose to nose.
I refuse to back up. If this is the one time I’ll be able to stand up to her, by god am I going to take that opportunity.
“I believe you’ve earned this,” she says, handing me a thick envelope.
I hesitate, unsure of what to do until she pushes it directly into my hand.
“Take it. You did well, Stella. Much better than I ever expected from you.” This freaking woman still thinks she can boss me around.
I’m about to give her a piece of my mind when a voice calls out.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” James says as he strides up to us. Some of the tension I’ve been holding seeps out of me.
“Just catching up with Sarah here,” she says smugly.
“It’s Stella, Mom, you should know. I know you’ve seen the P.I. reports.” Okay, so we’re not pulling punches today.
“In any case, I have to get going. Stella, it was lovely to see you. James, your father will see you in the office on Monday. What time can I tell him to expect you?” she says offhandedly, already making her way to a ridiculously expensive car parked right in front.
“Never.” That one word has her stopping in her tracks.
“Excuse me?” she asks, affronted.
“I won’t be coming in. Ever. I want nothing to do with the business. Give it to someone else.”
“There’s no one to give it to, we’ve talked about this,” she hisses. “Stop being difficult. We raised you better than this.”
“Come on, Mom, we both know the nannies raised me,” he jokes, a sharp edge lacing his tone. Venom curls into her eyes, her sleek facade starting to show its cracks.
“I have no patience for your attitude today. You will uphold our agreement and fall in line.”
“Or else what?”
“I swear, James, if you defy me in this I’ll dissolve your trust fund just like Vanessa’s!” she screeches.
“I’m fine with that.” James shrugs his shoulders, seemingly unbothered. My head is whipping back and forth between them like I’m at the tennis match of the century. Mrs. Finlay looks like she’s been slapped.
“James, you don’t want to do this. We have been planning this transition for years. You agreed to this. You made promises to our family and this company.”
“No, Mom. I was coerced into this. I’m sorry I’m disappointing you, but I’m not sorry that I’ll be following my own path.
I wish you could be supportive, but I know that’s too much to ask.
” He lets loose a weary sigh. “I really wanted to do everything right by you guys. I wanted to make you proud, continue our legacy, but I have to start making decisions that I can live with.”
“And what kind of life is that? With this gold digging trailer trash?”
Well, that’s a new one for me.
“NO.” His loud voice cracks through the frigid air. “You don’t get to speak about her like that. As for who I spend my time with, it’s no longer your concern. I will be pursuing what I want in life. A life that I would love for you to be a part of.”
“This is disgraceful! What will your peers think? Or our business associates? You are well aware of the consequences if you fail to take over.”
“That’s no longer my concern,” he repeats slowly.
“You’ll regret this, James. You’ll lose everything. Your trust fund, your inheritance, your father and me.”
“Then fuck the trust fund, Mom. I don’t need it that badly.” Now I’m the one who’s flabbergasted. I gape at him, mouth hanging open and everything.
“What do you mean, James?” Mrs. Finlay asks tersely, shifting from one foot to the other in the cold. I’m only judging her a little for wearing stilettos in the snow.
“It means I’m done. I’m done trying to force myself to be the son you want, done feeling worthless because I don’t jump at your every command.
I’m done trying to mend things between you and Nessa.
I’m done pretending I want to take over the family company.
I’m done trying to force you to love us.
I don’t need the money that badly. Keep it.
” A slow, melancholy grin spreads on his face.
He knows he has her in checkmate. There’s nothing she can do.
Her face twists into a sneer. “We will discuss this later,” she says through her teeth.
“No, we won’t. This is not up for debate.
I’m sorry this is the way it has to be, Mom.
I’m sorry we couldn’t change things, try to understand each other.
But I’m finished feeling like your puppet instead of your son.
” He stays silent for a moment, waiting for her to answer.
She doesn’t. “Why is nothing we do enough for you? Why can’t you just love us? ”
“James…” Mrs. Finlay trails off, her face betraying her uncertainty for the first time.
“If you’re finished, it’s cold as balls out here.” He turns on his heel without waiting for an answer, walking inside, knowing I’ll follow him.
I sprint up the stairs behind him, not wanting to spend an extra moment with this she-devil.
Shoot, I should probably move after that.
She owns the building. I go to press my hand to my face, only to remember the envelope is still stuck in my grip.
I enter the apartment as James is taking off his outerwear.
Presumptuous if you ask me, but he usually doesn’t.
He doesn’t seem to be in the mood to follow orders.
When he hears me enter, he spins around to face me, and only then can I see how much his hands are trembling, the indents on his lip where he’s been chewing on it. Before I can register what’s happening, James sweeps me up into an all encompassing hug.
It’s an effort not to sob. I’ve missed this, being in his arms, surrounded by his scent, the feeling of safety.
“I’m sorry,” he says, the vibration rattling through my ears.
“I know, stud.” I bury my face in his broad, chiseled chest. “I’m so sorry you gave that all up. That’s a lot of money.” He’s already shaking his head.
“Like you said, I wouldn’t want to touch blood money anyway.” He sighs heavily. He’s now out of a job and an inheritance, how is he keeping it together? “What did she give you?” he asks, nodding at the envelope still clutched in my hand.
“Money? I think?” I pull away so I can rip open the top of the envelope.
The first thing I pull out is a credit card statement. And then another. Three credit card statements. One for each card my dad had me put my name and pristine credit score on.
All of them say “PAID IN FULL.” I gasp. I knew she said she was going to do it, but I didn’t fully believe her.
I am now looking at indisputable proof that I’m free.
It’s like a physical weight being lifted off my chest, my lungs fully expanding for the first time in years. Tears clog my throat. It’s really done?
“Stella, there’s something else in there,” James says softly. I look in again and pull out a small piece of paper.
A certified cheque. In the same amount we would have gotten for workers comp and insurance. It’s an obscene amount, my eyes bug out, and I have a moment of doubt about the decimal being in the right place before it all sinks in.
Paying off the mountain of debt, and an official bank cheque. Two things she can’t take away from me. Even if she changes her mind and decides that I didn’t hold up my end of the deal, which truthfully, I didn’t, she can’t go back on this. It’s really over.
A wave of grief washes over me. Every burden that had been tying me to my parents, their loss, the pain, all the strength I had to muster to get through it pours over me at once. I’m sitting on the couch in James’ lap before I realize I’ve moved. Or, that he’s carried me, I guess.
“It’s over,” I whisper.
“It is,” he says into my hair, holding me tight to him, like a balloon that might fly away at any moment.
“It’s over. It’s over,” I repeat quietly until exhaustion takes me.
I wake to the smell of bacon and eggs in the kitchen. Someone is puttering around in there. I roll over in my bed and come face to, well, ass, with James who is….
Making me breakfast?
I don’t remember passing out, likely from the excitement, emotional overload, and overwhelming mental fatigue this week has brought. I struggle to sit up, rubbing my face with a yawn.
“Morning, Stella,” James says, plating up some food and walking over with it. “How are you?”
“A bit… out of sorts. But good? I think?” I reply, taking the offered food and wolfing it down.
“I’m glad. I know it didn’t turn out that way, but I came here hoping we could talk?” His voice is lighter than normal, which is surprising given the showdown I witnessed outside.
“Did you stay the night?” I ask, unsure of how else he’d still be here.
“I slept on your loveseat, which sucks, by the way.” He’s almost sheepish in his admission. “What I have to say is important, I wasn’t sure I’d work up the courage to come back if I left.”
“I’m listening.” My apprehension is heavy as I get ready to hear whatever bomb he’s about to drop on me this time.
“First, I want to say I’m sorry, for everything. I overreacted. I should have never accused you of anything.”
“You already apologized in your text.”
“But you deserved to hear it in person.” I still feel unsettled and shift in my seat.