Page 45 of Five Stolen Rings
Crap.
“In fact,” she goes on, tilting her head. “I think you said you wouldn’t even be tempted.”
“You said the same thing,” I say. It’s the only defense I have.
“It seems like we both got a little carried away,” she says, and her cheeks are pinker than ever now. “So let’s just agree that it was a fluke and forget about it. Deal?”
She holds her hand out for me to shake, and for a second I stare at it, hesitating.
But it’s just a handshake. There’s nothing dangerous about it. So I slip my hand around hers, shake once, and then let go again.
Can’t be too careful when it comes to the Stella Effect.
We get in the car without another word, and the drive back to Lucky is quiet, too. It’s only when we reach Stella’s parents’ place that she turns to look at me.
“I talked to Nat Flindowski after you left the building,” she says, and I blink in surprise.
“Did you?”
“Yes.” A little smirk tugs at her lips, and for a second, she looks almost normal—like we didn’t just make out in public. “She tried to talk to you because she wanted to apologize for how she behaved in high school. She’s married now. No kids, but they’re going to start trying in the new year.”
Aaaand I thought I couldn’t feel any dumber after kissing Stella like that, but I’ve just been proven wrong.
“Good for her,” I say heavily. I give Stella a brief wave when she gets out of the car, still grinning, and she returns it before hurrying around the house and out of sight.
Then, even though it wasn’t originally on the agenda for tonight, I make my way to Maude Ellery’s. There’s chaos inhabiting my body like a demon wearing my skin, anxiety atthe thought of the kiss—how much I liked it, how much I wanted to do it again. I need something I can focus on, something to accomplish, something I can control.
So I’m going to find those rings, even if I have to search all night.
My therapist’s name is Barb, and she has had just about enough of my nonsense.
“I’m not sure I understand,” she says the next morning when she calls me back.
I threw in the towel and left her a message about two hours ago, but I’m regretting it. I think I’ve finally got my head on straight, and talking about the kiss is something I don’t want to do now.
“Never mind,” I say, my voice tired—because yes, I did stay at Maude’s house for several hours last night, after which I lay awake in bed for several hours longer. It’s a good thing I’m not on call today.
“You called me,” Dr. Barb insists. Her voice is warm but professional, businesslike but personable. “So let’s talk. You kissed someone. Where’s the problem?”
“Theproblem,” I say, “is that it was the girl from high school.” I sandwich my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I open the fridge, looking for something to eat. There are several bell peppers that need to be used, so I pull them out.
“Ah,” Dr. Barb says, comprehension coloring her voice. “The one you’re not in love with.”
“I’m not,” I say as I push down the rising emotion in my chest. And it’s true; I’m not in love with Stella. Am Iattracted to her? Yes. Are there maybe some residual, nostalgic emotions? Yes. But I’m not in love with her.
“I see,” she says, like she can hear everything I’m not saying. She pauses and then goes on, “Well, how is this woman now? She showed reluctance to be close to you in high school, which really hurt you, correct? Is she still the same?”
“I—” I swallow. “No. She seems to have changed.”
Dr. Barb hums, sounding interested. “And was the kiss consensual?”
“Yes,” I admit, setting the peppers on the counter and pulling out my cutting board, “but that doesn’t make it any better.”
She goes on as though I haven’t spoken. “Did you both enjoy it?”
Into my mind flashes memories of Stella’s lips on mine, the way her arms wrapped around me. “I—maybe.”
“Then where’s the issue?” Her voice is gentle now. “I think this could be good for you, Jack. I know you think you don’t have feelings for this woman?—”
