This isn’t an argument I’ll win, so I deflect. “Why do you think I want to stay married to her?”
Joshua pauses to consider his answer. “Because she makes you laugh.”
“That’senough of a reason?” I scoff. “Come on, be serious.”
“Not on its own,” he clarifies, “but it’s part of it. She…matches you. Matches your humor, your drive, your kindness. She’s thoughtful in the same way you are. Supportive without expecting anything in return. I’ve never seen that in any of the other women you brought around. And certainly not from Figgy.”
“Are you really saying Stella is my perfect match?” I press, incredulous.
But Joshua only shrugs, leaving the silence to linger and mythoughts to swirl. Honestly, some days it feels like Stella and I are polar opposites, two people from vastly different worlds and upbringings and life experiences. And yet I can see exactly what he means by us matching each other. We just…fit together.
“If the situation were different, she’s the kind of woman I’d want to seriously date,” I say before I can think better of the confession.
Joshua snickers. “Oh, so you’re finally ready for a girlfriend now that you have a wife?”
“The irony isn’t lost on me.”
“So why don’t you try?” he suggests.
“She doesn’t want a real relationship.”
“Are you sure?”
“Considering she has rules that have made it pretty clear, yeah, I am.”
Joshua’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, forcing me to glance over and witness the dismayed set to his mouth. “Since when have you been a devout rule follower? You’vealwayssearched for a loophole, Thomas. If you weren’t a driver, you’d be the most brilliant solicitor.”
“Glad you think I’m smart.”
He squeezes harder, right in the tender part of my trapezius, clearing away my sarcasm. “Right now I think you’re a ridiculous excuse for a man who can’t pull his head out of his ass and make his feelings clear.”
I wince, both from the physical torture method and his biting words. “God, you’re sounding more and more like your wife every day.”
“Love will do that to you.” Finally, he lets up, slapping me hard on the back before returning his attention to the laughingwomen outside. “Seriously, mate. You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t try.”
By New Year’s Eve, I’m in hell.
I thought living with Stella would prepare me for a whole week of being together on holiday. How different could it be?
Vastly, as I’ve discovered.
Stella at home doesn’t walk around nearly naked, sporting a new bikini every morning that makes me wonder if she’s tormenting me on purpose. Vacation Stella has relaxed shoulders and easy smiles. She’s loud and funny and quick to grab my hand to drag me off to whatever activity is slated for the day. She peacefully naps wherever she can find a space, whether that’s on the couch in our bungalow or under an umbrella on the beach, curled up like a cat with her face burrowed in the crook of her arm. Sometimes I even tuck her braids behind her ear just so I can get a better view of the peace on her face.
Yeah…I’m not faring remotely fucking well.
Thankfully, we only have two more days here before we head home. I don’t have a clue what our dynamic will be like when we’re back, but it won’t be as difficult to keep my eyes—and hands—off her once she’s bundled up against the English winter. I almost miss her cashmere tracksuits, though I can’t deny the sight of her in a white crochet bikini is dangerously appealing.
Tonight she’s wearing some sort of tight black bustier dress that pushes her tits up and slightly over the cups, tempting me to press my face into their softness. She’s done her makeup heavier than I’ve seen all week, darkening her eyes with shadow and winging out a line that makes every glance she tossessultry. And her lips, painted wine red like the first night we met, are simply lush. If someone said they could bring the woman of my dreams to life, it would be Stella in this moment. Or really, Stella in any moment.
I fear if I tell her that, it will scare her off into the ocean, never to be seen again. So I settle for taking her hand and spinning her in a circle before saying, “You look stunning.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she commends, taking in my black suit and white shirt with a few buttons undone. “We match.”
Logically, I know she’s only talking about our color coordination, but I think of Joshua’s words.She matches you.The more I’ve considered it, the more I’ve come to see what he means. Wedomatch. We’re alike in so many ways, and even in the ways we aren’t, everything still aligns.
“We do,” I agree. I press my luck and lace our fingers together. “Looking like a real couple. Who’d ever think this was fake?”
Stella gives me another one of those beguiling laughs from deep in her chest, and all it does is push me farther down the rabbit hole of desperation. I need more from this woman, whatever she’s willing to give. I’d let her use me in return, let her sink her teeth into me and tear away whatever she wanted. She could burn through me and I’d fan the flame.
