Chapter 58 - Stella #2
We clink. We drink. The burn loosens something tight in my chest.Ansel is quick with the refill. “Round two. But this time—confessions. No excuses, no take-backs.”
Elaine’s thumb strokes over my knuckles where our hands are tangled on the counter. Her lips curve into a smirk. “Confession? I’m totally, hopelessly obsessed with your best friend.”
Heat floods my face, tequila and want tangling.
Ansel barks a laugh. “Oh, please. That’s the least shocking thing I’ve ever heard. You two are disgustingly in love, and if I have to watch one more longing stare, I’m staging either an intervention or a porno. Haven’t decided yet.”
Elaine laughs, unbothered. I shove Ansel lightly. “We are not disgustingly in love.” “Yes, you are.” She downs her shot, grinning wickedly. “And I support it. Fully. I mean, I’m still gonna roast you for it, but I support it.”
Elaine leans in, her lips brushing my ear. “Let her tease. I like it when they notice.” The shiver it sends through me has nothing to do with tequila.
Ansel slams the bottle down. “My turn. Confession: once I dumped a guy because he ate string cheese sideways. Like a psychopath.”
I burst out laughing, nearly spilling my drink. Elaine shakes her head, grinning. “That might be the most valid reason I’ve ever heard.”
The tequila keeps flowing. The confessions get sillier, softer, and closer to truths we don’t want to name. At some point, Ansel is sprawled across the counter, declaring herself the chaos glue of our friend group, while Elaine kisses the inside of my wrist like no one else is in the room.
For a while, the weight lifts. For a while, we just breathe, and drink, and laugh.
Ansel cracks one eye open, her words slurred but sharp enough to cut. “You know, once upon a time, Stella kissed me. Full tongue. Freshman year of college. She swore it didn’t mean anything.”
Heat flares across my cheeks. “Ansel—”
Elaine’s gaze snaps to me, her brows arching, lips curving slowly and dangerously. “Oh?” she drawls, her thumb pressing into my palm like she’s claiming me all over again. “And here I thought I was the lucky one.”
Ansel cackles, wicked and unbothered. “Relax. It was one kiss. She still blushed about it for weeks.”
“I did not,” I mutter, wishing the tequila could burn the memory out of existence.
“You did,” Ansel sing-songs, pointing her lime wedge at me like she’s presenting Exhibit A.
Elaine leans closer, her breath tickling my ear. “Good to know I’m not the first woman who couldn’t resist you,” she whispers, low enough that Ansel can’t hear. The shiver that runs through me has nothing to do with alcohol.
Ansel tips her glass toward us, eyes glittering with tequila and mischief. “Well, shit. Guess I should’ve held onto her a little tighter. Could’ve been me sandwiched in that kiss right now.”
Elaine smirks, unbothered, her fingers brushing possessively over my thigh. “Too late. She’s mine now.”
Ansel throws back her shot, laughing wickedly. “God, you two are hot together. Like, offensively hot. Some of us are just sitting here horny and third-wheeling.”
Heat creeps up my neck, the tequila making it harder to tell if it’s embarrassment or thrill. Elaine leans closer, her voice a silken whisper only for me: “Remember, widow, I like when they notice”
The air between us thickens, electric and a little dangerous, and I can’t tell if it’s the tequila or something deeper making my pulse race.
The doorbell cuts through the laughter, sharp and jarring. I blink, the tequila fog slipping just enough for dread to coil in my stomach. Elaine squeezes my knee, but I push up from the counter and cross the living room.
A man in a perfectly cut suit stands at the door—polished shoes, crisp tie, the kind of presence that screams lawyer or hitman. His expression gives nothing away as he extends a single envelope toward me.
“From the offices of Salvatore Enzo Faretti’s attorney,” he says smoothly. No explanation. No pause. He turns on his heel and walks back to a waiting black sedan at the curb, the door shutting with a clean, expensive thud.
Suddenly, I’m stone sober. My hands tremble as I tear open the envelope.
Inside are the signed divorce papers. My breath stutters when I see Donovan’s handwriting scrawled across a short note, tucked on top.
Stella,I was stupid. I should never have cheated.
I don’t know why I did—anger, selfishness, and weakness.
All I know is I hurt you, and I hate myself for it.
I lashed out because I couldn’t face the truth of what I’d done.
I’m sorry for every bit of pain I caused you.
I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I want you to have peace.
I’ve signed the papers. All property remains yours.
I’m leaving the country—maybe for good. You deserve better than me. —Donovan
The words blur. My throat tightens, but I force air in and out. My fingers shake against the paper, the weight of it so much heavier than it should be.
Elaine’s hand glides down the length of my back, steadying me as I lower the papers. When our eyes meet, there’s no relief—only doubt, sharp and unspoken. Too neat. Too clean.
Ansel leans in over my shoulder, peering at the note with wide eyes. “Holy shit. He signed? He’s actually giving you everything?” She snatches the edge of the envelope like it’s proof of a miracle. “Stell, this is it. You’re free.”
Her grin spreads, bright and reckless, unbothered by the weight pressing down between me and Elaine. “I’m going to tell Mac. He’s gonna lose his mind over this.”
She grabs her phone and disappears down the hall, leaving the two of us in the heavy silence, staring at the too-perfect letter like it’s a loaded gun.
We drift to the couch without speaking, the papers still clutched in my shaking hands. When I collapse onto the cushions, my body is heavy with the weight of what's to come and tequila. I curl into myself, knees tucked tight, and let my head fall into Elaine’s lap.
She doesn’t hesitate. Her fingers slip into my hair, slow and gentle, combing through the strands like she could untangle the knots inside me, too. “There you are,” she whispers, soft enough it might be meant only for me.
“My beautiful girl,” she murmurs, stroking her fingers slowly through my hair.
“You don’t even see it, do you? The way you shine.
It’s like stepping into the eye of the storm—all that devastation swirling, and there you are, warmth and beauty wrapping around me like a masterpiece.
Every time I look at you, I forget how to breathe. ”
Her voice cracks just faintly, soft but certain. “And you don’t even realize how much I’ve fallen in love with you, Stella. It’s fucking maddening.”
The words hang between us, heavy and unshakable. Something in me snaps, not into pieces this time but into clarity. I push up, straddling her lap, my knees bracketing her hips. My hands cradle her face, forcing her to see me the way she just described.
My voice comes out rough, trembling with something too big to cage.
“You may have been my husband’s mistress, but Donovan was nothing more than a stepping stone to us.
He shattered me—cut me open until I didn’t recognize myself.
But you, Elaine…you’re the one who gathered every jagged piece and held them like they were precious.
You didn’t just put me back together. You made me whole again. ”
Her eyes glisten, and I press closer, breath shuddering against her lips, the truth clawing free.
“I thought those unraveled lies would be the end of me. But they weren’t.
They were the beginning. Because they led me to you.
And you—” my voice breaks, fierce and certain all at once, “—you are my beginning, my middle, my fucking end. I am so completely, insanely in love with you, it terrifies me.”
Tears spill, hers and mine, blurring the space between us. For a suspended breath, it feels like the world stops—like neither of us knows what to do with a love this sharp, this consuming.
And then Elaine moves.
Her hands frame my face, trembling but sure, and she pulls me into a kiss that isn’t hungry or frantic—it’s surrender.
It’s a vow pressed into my mouth, salt and silk, pain and wonder.
I sob against her lips, and she swallows the sound, kissing me deeper, as if she’s been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Her mouth is still on mine, broken sobs bleeding into the kiss, when I push her back against the couch cushions. Needing to be closer, to lose myself in the only thing that feels real.
Elaine’s hands roam everywhere, frantic, sliding beneath my shirt, gripping at my skin. My hips press down against the hard line of her thigh, the friction sending a desperate moan spilling from my lips.
“Stella,” she gasps, my name coming out as a soft plea. Her head falls back as I kiss down her throat, tasting salt—the mixture of our tears together. My teeth scrape her collarbone, and she shudders, clutching me tighter, grinding me harder against her.
The world blurs down to heat and breath and the ache of needing her everywhere. Her hand slides beneath my shorts, fingers brushing where I’m soaked for her, and I whimper into her mouth. The sound makes her groan, low and rough, before she whispers, “Always so wet for me, fuck, I love you.”
I ride her hand, gasping, breaking apart against her touch while she holds me like I’m both fragile and unbreakable. When I shatter, trembling in her lap, her lips are on mine again, swallowing every cry, every piece of me.
But I don’t let her stop there. My hands trail lower, fumbling with the button of her jeans, desperate to give back what she’s given me.
I slide down her body, kissing over her stomach, sinking to my knees on the rug.
She’s already wrecked from the buildup, from the emotions bleeding into every touch, and when I taste her, she cries out, clutching the couch cushions like she might break apart completely.
I worship her with my mouth, slow at first, then harder, deeper, until she’s gasping my name like a prayer, until her thighs tighten around me and she falls, undone and trembling. I keep her there, tasting her, holding her through every wave until she finally drags me back up into her arms.
We’re still tangled on the couch, breathless and undone, the taste of each other clinging to our mouths, when the sound of a voice cuts through. “Well… that was fucking hot.”
My head snaps toward the doorway. Ansel is leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a smirk wicked as sin. She tips her chin in our direction like she’s giving a toast, then turns on her heel and saunters away, leaving nothing but the echo of her words behind.
Heat floods my face. I bury it against Elaine’s chest, groaning. “God, I’m so sorry—”
Elaine’s laugh rumbles low, her fingers sliding through my hair with lazy affection. “Don’t be.” She tips my chin up, eyes glinting. “I told you, Widow… I like it when they notice.”
The words shouldn’t make me ache, but they do—shame and desire twisting together until I’m breathless all over again.