Chapter 6 - Stella
Stella
I snag a table in the back corner, trying to avoid the inevitable Friday night crowd.
The server, Betty, stops at the table for small talk, asking me about art school and how the family business is doing.
She even asks if I was eating enough while away.
Twice. She’s always had that grandmotherly charm with the kids around here.
The diner is quickly filling up, teenagers piling into the booths. There is a girl sitting in the booth in front of me, gushing over the hot gym teacher and wondering about the mystery of him.
I smile and chuckle to myself. I have noticed the students' reactions to Donovan differ depending on whether they have siblings. Those with older siblings often feel sorry for the career path he lost, while those who don’t have older siblings want to know who the mysterious man is.
The sound of a motorcycle pulling in rattles the windows and pulls me out of my thoughts. Everyone stops to look out the window, every girl staring with mouths open, and I’m pretty sure Betty just wiped drool off her chin.
The man hitches his leg over the bike to get off and takes his helmet off. My heart drops when I see the mystery man. Holy shit. Donovan D’Angelo rides a motorcycle.
Now who's wiping the drool off their chin?
The giggling girls in front of me lower their voices to a murmuring whisper as Donovan walks towards me. Their heads snap back to look at him as he passes. He places his helmet on the bench next to him and removes his riding jacket. How is he not burning up in that?
Betty quickly walks up to the table, gushing over Donovan like she just saw a superstar for the first time. Which is surprising since Agave Hills gets famous people all the time.
Betty doesn’t even allow us to order; she just scurries off and submits an order to the back. Donovan and I look at each other and burst out laughing.
“I guess we are pretty predictable, huh?” he says.
We say very little and sit in an awkward silence until the plate of nacho fries and two Dr. Peppers sit in the middle of the table.
I pick at a couple of fries, forgetting the way my mouth waters every time I eat these.
Sipping the soda, I square my shoulders and sit up straight.
Seeing the heaviness weighing on Donovan, I take a deep breath and ready myself for what I need to get off my chest.
“Donovan. First, thank you for meeting me. I am truly sorry for the way I reacted in the hallway yesterday. I was ambushed by an overwhelming amount of embarrassment.” I adjust myself on the bench, so my left foot sits under me.
“Stella, don’t apologize. It was a lot to take in. Plus, I really need to tell you I’m sorry”.
“Stop, please stop. I know there is a lot you feel you must say to me, but it’s not on you to apologize for what happened. I really need to get this off my chest.” I rush out in a single breath as my fingers push the spoon handle back and forth on the table.
“Okay. You have my full attention.” Donovan stares at me with an unsure look in his eyes.
“I am not really sure where to start; it feels like a lot of baggage to unpack. So I will start just before our phone call.” He nods and listens.
“Senior year, I had so much, uh, drama, I guess you can say, going on at home. I told you bits of it but never let you know the whole truth.” I breathe in deep and continue on.
“My parents were going through a rough patch. There was so much yelling, and when my grandparents got involved, it felt like my world was going to end.” Currently, I can’t hear anything going on around us.
I can’t hear the laughter or stories being told. The sound of ice pelting the bottom of a glass cup is gone. So I sink back into those memories and open up about what transpired.
I park my car in the large roundabout driveway and make my way up the back stairs leading to the mudroom. Tossing my umbrella into the basket and kicking off my soaking-wet Vans, I notice the freshly folded towels in the wicker basket on the dryer and grab the one on top.
I inhale the warm scent of jasmine and lilies and wrap the fluffy towel around me. As I make my way towards the foyer to head up to my room, I hear the front door slam with anger.
“Where is the piece of shit I call a son-in-law?” Grandpa Carrington roars through the house with my grandmother nipping at his heels.
“This is the thanks I get when I allow you to marry my daughter, to continue my family name, and to inherit my family legacy. You better hope this is all a sick fucking joke.”
“I grew up with loving, doting parents, grandparents that spoiled you rotten when they came to visit. This wasn’t them. This was pure rage-filled hatred, and I was terrified.”
He stays quiet but picks up a fry and bites the end, contemplating what to say to me. He puts the rest of the fry down and grabs my hand. A silent acknowledgment that he is here for me, so I continue.
Still wrapped in the fluffy towel, I cling to it like it's armor meant to protect me.
I quietly open the door to the closet under the stairs and slip inside.
With the door slightly ajar, I can see into the living room where my seething grandparents stand.
I hold my breath, afraid I might give away my hiding place.
Rushing out of the kitchen, wiping her wet hands on her apron, my mother whisper-shouts, “Mother! Father! You cannot come into my house screaming like this. Please, this is not how to handle this.” My mother's tear-streaked face pleads with my grandparents, fearful for what will happen next.
I hear the irate, heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, the only indication that my father has heard what happened. The click of his shoes on the polished wood floor never comes, which can only mean he was still standing at the bottom of the carpeted stairs.
“Reginald. You walk into my house like you own the place, you scream your profanities at me as if I owe you a goddamn thing.” My father slurs in a thick Italian accent, he works so hard to hide.
Fuck…he’s been drinking, and this will not be good.
“Now, Reginald, must I remind you that whether you ‘allowed’ me to marry your daughter or not, she was going to be my wife.” His feet finally hit the wooden floor, and he takes two strides towards the sitting room.
“The only thing you allowed me to do was exile myself from the Ferretti family ties and take your last name so I could make your Luxury Caskets into a legacy.”
What the hell is even going on? Ferretti family ties. What does that mean?
“Carrington Caskets was subpar before we moved to Arizona. I made the name into a staple every wealthy person needs. I made elegance in every goodbye!” He’s now screaming at my grandfather as my mother is sobbing.
As if on reflex, my grandfather reaches out and punches my father across the face.
There is the distinct sound of the lowball glass hitting the floor as my grandfather yells.
“You ungrateful bastard. I gave you everything that I built with my two hands, and you think you are the reason for its legacy. Do not speak to me like we are equals because we are not. You are nothing but the bastard son of some mafioso who married above his station. Know your place and stay in it.”
I am standing in my hiding spot, shocked, staring at the events unfolding before me. But nothing—not the yelling, not the slap, not even the shattered glass on the floor—could prepare me for the contents of the envelope my grandfather threw onto the table.
Inside it, a birth certificate. A child was born just six months before my parents’ wedding day. My mother’s name is not listed next to my father’s.
“That was the moment everything changed.” I look up at Donovan with tears in my eyes, and I can see the shock in his face.
He sits in silence after I lay the overwhelming memory before him.
“Stell. Did you say the mafia? A secret affair, baby? Do you know how much, if any, of this is true?” He can’t get the questions out of his mouth fast enough.
“Your dad was one of the coolest dudes I knew. I can’t imagine him cheating on your mom.”
I shrug my shoulders and push a fry along the hardened cheese sauce, “I’m not too sure. Two weeks later, my grandfather died of a heart attack, and with him, my parents buried the secrets.”
I can see the wheels turning in his head as the timeline of events falls into place. “We broke up around the time the fight happened.” It wasn’t a question. He stated it very matter-of-factly.
I can feel shame spreading across my face, and tears collect in the corner of my eyes, threatening at any moment to break the dam.
“Two days,” I whisper. “Two days after my grandparents stormed out of the house, everything in my life fell apart. I walked into school that morning, and Elaine was standing in the hallway with her evil smile from ear to ear. Flyers were everywhere. That night, talking to you about it, it felt like you brushed it off, and it wasn’t a big deal.
It felt like you didn’t care. The devastation, humiliation, and anger overtook me. ”
Donovan reaches his hand across the table and wraps his fingers around mine.
His calloused hands are a stark difference from mine.
“Stella, I am so–”
“Please, Donovan. Just let me get this all out. Please. Say nothing until I am done.” I'm practically begging.
He closes his mouth and nods his head to show his agreement. I squeeze his hand and relish the familiar feel.
“I took all of my emotions and lashed out at you. I broke up with you in the midst of all the chaos, rather than stopping to take a moment to breathe and reflect on everything that had happened.”
“When I saw you at prom, it was the final blow to my crumbling world. Instead of admitting I fucked up and asking you to forgive me, I couldn’t admit that I fucked up and ask you to forgive me.
I doubled down in my anger—you moved on and didn’t need me anymore.
” I fidget with my straw, making ice cubes bob up and down.
“I went home that night and confronted my parents about the fight with my grandfather. They wouldn’t admit anything and told me I remembered it all wrong.
There is no mafia, no love, baby. I just have an overly active imagination.
I felt like I was ten again. But I told them then that I would not enter the business world as they wanted (it was then that I told them I wouldn’t be studying business).
I was going to art school. I confessed that I applied, received an acceptance letter, and had a full-ride scholarship waiting for me. Surprisingly, they nodded and agreed.”
“At graduation, I found it too difficult to look at you. I wanted to run to you, but we were both leaving for different states. So what was the point? Who can actually make long-distance relationships work, right?” I let out a light, dry laugh.
“I roomed with a girl who’s double-majoring in art and psychology.
She wants to be a therapist, so naturally, I cried to her about you.
A lot. Somewhere between the drunk tears and denial, I realized I was the problem.
I ruined us. You were never the issue, D.
I was just too stubborn to admit I needed you.
I tried to move on, and I couldn’t. There’s been no one else, not really.
So I’m asking you, begging actually, to forgive me.
In my moments of loss and foolishness, I threw away the best thing in my life.
If we can start over, even just as friends…
I’d be grateful. Because more than anything, I miss my best friend. ”
Donovan says nothing. Instead, he stands, still holding my hands, walks around the table, and pulls me to my feet. And then, without hesitation, he kisses me.
There’s no softness, no gentle question in it. Just the desperate ache of two years without a heart.
When he pulls away, I’m breathless, and he presses his forehead to mine.
“I’m so sorry, Stella. For not knowing what you were going through, for not protecting you, for not seeing it.
If I had known…” I shake my head, but he holds me tighter.
“Stella, you looked at me once and ruined me for anyone else. You stole my heart with that look, and I’ve spent two years trying to remember how to breathe without it.
I don’t care what we are right now. Just let me be near you again.
Friend, partner, whatever space you’ve got for me…
I’ll take it. Gladly. Because even after everything… I never stopped being yours.”
My heart stutters in my chest. I spent two years mourning him like he was gone, and here he is, saying he never left me at all.
I don’t know what will happen next. But I know this moment, this feeling, is real.
He has always been mine.