Narrowing my eyes, I respond, “You called who?”
He shrugs, like it’s just a mundane everyday occurrence, a wide grin playing across his chiseled, severe face. “The root of all of this unnecessary drama.” Leif finds another bottle of the same, and tosses it to me. “Stella.”
My head swims and the jagged hole inside my chest feels a little wider. The sweat beads faster now, rolling down my chest and the sides of my face. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.
A bang from Aidan’s room ricochets throughout the suite. Then a loud neigh. I block it out in favor of fury. I step toward my friend. “Drink it. She’s in the lobby waiting for you,” Leif says, nodding at my hand. “Actually you should empty the mini bar as fast as you can. Don’t look at me with that rage face and your balled up fists, man. You know as well as I do, that she’s the hang-up. The reason you can’t be happy. The ice bitch. The queen of blue ball happiness blocking. Instead of fighting me. Thank me.”
Looking to the ceiling, I yell. It’s a war cry of frustration. My breaths come quicker. “I’m not going down there.” I drink the Jack.
Leif tsks. “She didn’t want to see you either and she’s still down there. Instead of fucking a redhead with the stage name of Jessica Rabbit, I’ve spent the past twelve hours tracking down Stella.Do us all a favor and at least speak your peace. We have to work tomorrow and we need you there with us.” Leif taps the side of my head, and then wipes off my sweat on the side of his pants.
I drink another Jack, then another. I pace the room and Leif talks to me. About things I haven’t brought up for half a decade. Horrible things that make me feel. Did I stop to consider the fact that Stella, and our past could be the hang-up preventing me from moving forward and taking what I want without thought for the future? Maybe for a half a second. Some memories are too painful to bring up even if they further the dissection of a current problem. What if Leif is right?
“Put on a fucking shirt,” Leif says. I’m still sweating, but I pull on the first shirt I find on top of my bag. The mirror in front of me shows an image of a stranger. Sweat immediately bleeds through the black cotton fabric.
“I hate you so much,” I tell him, shaking my head. “This is the last thing I need right now.”
“It’s one of the only things you need right now. Give me some credit. How long have I been your friend?” I shake off his fact. It doesn’t matter right now.
Pacing once more to the window overlooking NYC, the place that stole her from me in the most dubious, sneaky way. There wasn’t closure. There was a deployment the next day and a Dear John letter in the form of an email. I looked at the email every day for ten months. I woke up on the first of the eleventh month and instead of reading it, I deleted it. Buried it. Tried not to think about her or what I lost again. It worked on most days, and on others, I obsess over the failure.
At the thought of the failure, anger rises. Just enough to force my feet forward, one ahead of the other to the elevator and down to the lobby of the five-star hotel. I’m a fucking mess and the fact that this is happening right now, is hard to fucking swallow.
I see her from the back. She’s sitting at the round bar in the center of the lounge, her blonde hair hitting just below her shoulder blades. It’s shorter than it was the last time I saw her, but after spending years with her, she’ll always be someone I recognize anywhere. She senses my presence, swiveling in her chair to face me.
She looks older, the skin on her face a little less glowing than I last remembered. I swallow down the last of my hesitation and approach with leaden feet and a pounding heart.
“Stella,” I say, my voice cracking.
She looks down at the gin and tonic in front of her instead of looking at me. “What is it, Tyler? I can’t believe I’m here right now.”
Okay. Patience. I won’t kill Leif. Not today, anyways. He has my best interests at heart even if he’s a fucking moron. Her cell phone beeps on the bar and she looks at it sighing. “My husband,” she says, waving the screen at me. “Worried because I left the house to visit my ex-boyfriend.” She waves an arm at me. “Why he’s intimidated by you, I have no idea, but dear Lord, make this fast.” She sips her favorite cocktail, sighing in annoyance.
I laugh. That’s what you do during awkward pauses when you have no clue how to respond. “You wrote me a fucking email, Stella,” I growl lowly. “Why?” Might as well get what I came for, right? The ten months of holding onto broken promises requires this to survive.
Her lips, ones I’ve kissed so many times in the past, purse. Looking at her doesn’t feel like I thought it would. She’s not some mirage, she’s just a woman who I once loved, and it brings awareness to one fact, Stella doesn’t hold a fucking candle to Caroline. My stomach drops. I brush my brow with the back of my hand.
The bartender catches my eye and I point to drink in front of her and hold up the number one with my finger. He squints his eyes and I remember my own messed up eyes. He nods and begins fixing me the drink I detest the most. “Is that really what you want to know? It was easier that way. We were so entwined that a clean break was needed. A new life presented itself in New York and you were always going to do…what you do,” she explains, looking around to make sure we’re out of earshot. “You can’t possibly need closure. That email explained everything and then some. I’m not a woman to leave without cause. It was time to part ways.”
Her tired eyes meet mine and I notice her exhaustion. It reminds me of the probable reason why. Her baby. “Why am I here?” she asks again. “Leif told me about your new base. I’m glad you’re switching up your work pace. Maybe…it will be good for you.” She has no clue. Leif didn’t tell her anything. My drink arrives and I swallow down half of the nasty tasting liquid, and wince. “Still don’t like a gin and tonic either. Your eyes are awful, by the way. I remember when Smith got a mask squeeze, so I won’t ask how it happened. I’ll just assume the drunken worst.”
Sighing, I look away, trying to compile my thoughts. At least I don’t have to worry about my demon eyes right now. “You’re happy,” I ask.
“Is that a question?” she narrows her eyes at the side of my face. “I’m happy,” she says, when I don’t answer. “My life is full. I love my husband and family. I would do the same thing all over again, Tyler. The same exact thing.”
My jaw ticks, and I clasp my glass tightly in both of my hands. Looking at her, I let myself feel the pain from the past. The terror attacks changed everything. Perhaps that truly is why she wanted to move on from my life style. Not because of me. Maybe I didn’t do anything horribly wrong. “I’m in love with a woman,” I tell her.
She coughs. A nervous tick because I’ve surprised her. “Oh,” she says. “So this isn’t some attempt to get back together?”
That makes me laugh. “Fuck no, Stella. Fuck. No,” I say. “After what you did?” She looks down and away. She should be ashamed of that fucking email. Of the no contact. Of the years wasted on our commitment to one another.
When she remains silent, it’s my turn to tell her a truth bomb. “I love this woman more than I thought I was capable of.”
Her gaze meets mine and I see tears shining—the hard facts surfacing. “Caroline reminds me of you in that one way that I’ve never been able to reconcile. This isn’t me trying to get back together with a married woman, Stell. This is me trying to figure out if you’re the one who blew my chances with the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.”
She raises her brows. “Ouch,” she says, smiling. “I’m glad you finally see. I’m sad this is what it took for you to realize you didn’t love me in that forever kind of way, though.” I down the rest of my drink while Stella sips hers, a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes are narrowed, actually curious. She’s relieved now that she knows what this is about. I grab a cocktail napkin and wipe my face and forearms, breathing deeply. “You look like shit, by the way,” she adds. She’s grinning when I meet her eyes. “You made a Tahoe sized mistake, huh?”
“Go big or go home, baby,” I joke, using a phrase from our past. Her smile is wistful, but vanishes quickly.
