“Nicole…” I twist my bangs back behind my ear, looking her in the eye. Dr. Skinner’s words drift back to me through the distance and for once, I don’t need them memorized. They come out naturally. “You’re my best friend. If you’re going to be in my life, though, I need you to understand it’s going to be separate from yours. I need you to understand that we’re two different people with separate choices.” Heat rushes in against the backs of my eyes. “I got my first paycheck today. And I’m proud of it. I’m proud of myself for starting over even though it was scary and I felt like a fake. Yes, I had help. I had a lot of help and you deserve the same. You always have.” She looks away sharply, her lower lip trembling and I take an unsteady breath, forcing out the rest. “You can stay here while we find you a place. While we get you a job. I’m not abandoning you. But I’m not abandoning myself for you, either. Stop feeling bad for yourself and putting it on me, Nicole. I’m not having that shit anymore, do you understand?”
Seconds pass that feel like hours.
There is a Christmas Eve party happening down the hall and the distant laughter and scent of burned poultry drifts between us, punctuating the silence. I’m holding my breath, adrenaline firing in my veins like tiny bullets, making me lightheaded. I can’t believe I said that. I can’t believe it, but I won’t take it back, because I meant every word. I’m finally being truthful with her. With myself.
“Yeah,” she says, blowing out a breath, her entire demeanor softened. Even relaxed. “I understand.”
“Thank you,” I respond, voice firm. I don’t know where the bravery inside me is coming from. Maybe it’s everything I’ve accomplished recently. Maybe it’s newfound confidence. Or perhaps I’m in love with an optimist and he’s rubbed off on me. I don’t know, but I close the distance between me and Nicole, taking her by the shoulders. “You are strong. You can do this. You can be someone you’re proud of. Tomorrow can be a great day.”
She bursts into a tearful laugh. “God. When did you get so fucking corny?”
My answering laugh is real, genuine and it comes easy. So easy. “Corny is underrated.”
We back away, swiping at our eyes. With this lightness in my chest, I could float away. I’ve been walking around with a pile of bricks trapped to my body. They’re gone now and there is only one person I want to share this weightlessness with. He’d already taken away some of those bricks, but I had to shed the rest of them myself. I wasn’t able to give myself completely to my relationship with Aiden before, but I am now. And there’s nothing I want more. I belong with him and he belongs with me. There’s not a single doubt in my head any longer.
Please, please, don’t let my fears have ruined everything.
“I have somewhere I need to be,” I murmur.
Her immediate impulse is to complain about that, but she pulls back. Nods. “Sure.”
I turn and find my jacket, zipping it back on. “There is food in the fridge.” I wait for eye contact. “You can put your jacket down wherever you want.”
A lump travels upward in her throat. “Thanks, Stella.”
“You’ll hear from me tomorrow.”
I smile at her on my way out the door—and then I’m running. There is something I need to do before I go to the Vivant Christmas party. But it’s no longer purchasing the green dress and the appropriate accessories. No, it’s something else entirely.
*
Aiden
I’m standing in the middle of three hundred people, the din of conversation carrying above the straining strings of the band who are in the middle of a Sinatra classic. The ballroom of the High Line Hotel has been decorated to the nines with white and blue lighting, frosted hurricane lamps flickering with candles on dozens of intricately decorated tables right down to the sprig of holly in every napkin holder. There is laughter and champagne and even the stodgiest member of the managerial staff is cutting loose on the dance floor, alongside my Aunt Edna.
I’m watching it all through a periscope, my head and my heart a million miles from here.
Or wherever Stella happens to be at the moment. The fact that I don’t even know where the hell that might be is a constant raking of knives through my gut.
Being in this tuxedo is wrong. Leland’s peach habanero salsa which I choked down earlier out of tradition, rather than hunger, is running laps around my belly. How is everyone carrying on with life as usual when the girl I love has left to find the friend who helped land her in prison?
The only thing—and I mean the only thing—that is keeping me right here, rooted to this spot where the bourbon is easy to reach, is my absolute faith in her. Whatever she’s facing right now and with whom, she’s going to do the right thing. She’s going to do the safe thing. And even if she doesn’t come to the party, which is more than halfway over at this point, I have to believe she’ll continue to work at Vivant. She won’t take herself away from me completely, will she? No matter how badly I’ve fucked this up, I’ll have a chance to win her back.
I have to believe that.
I do believe that, because I believe in Stella. This thing between us can’t just melt away and cease to exist like one of the ice sculptures sitting on the buffet table.
God, my chest hurts. I need to go sit down. Or bribe someone to knock me out. Maybe that would be better. I could stop replaying the way Stella’s eyes filled with tears when I asked if she wanted some space.
You are a complete and total moron.
My Aunt Edna materializes in front of me in a Santa hat that she didn’t arrive wearing. “A watched kettle never boils, Aiden. Quit staring at the door.”
My smile drops as soon as I attempt it. “Do you need another drink?”
She slaps me on the shoulder. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”
Taking her empty glass and setting it on the bar, I signal the man filling drink orders. When he sees Edna, he doesn’t even need me to tell him what she’s drinking. He’s been making extra-dirty martinis for her since six o’clock. “Are you having a good time?”
“Oh no. Don’t you dare make small talk with me.” She pokes me in the side. “You’re standing over here looking like you’re in the middle of a colonic.”
“Compared to this? I’d prefer it.”
Aunt Edna snorts. “You’ve obviously never had one.”
“No,” I sigh, staring into the depths of my bourbon, the ice cubes forming the shape of Stella’s profile. “Maybe I’ll schedule one. Sounds like sufficient punishment.”
“For what?” She harrumphs. “You’re not the type to mess anything up so badly that you need a tube up the—”
“Hello,” Jordyn says smoothly, coming up beside Edna, her hand tucked inside Seamus’s. He’s holding a pint of beer in the opposite hand and he salutes me with it. I nod back, the movement making my head hammer all the more. “You’ve got the party buzzing, Aunt Edna,” Jordyn continues, smiling. “I love a woman who knows how to lead a conga line.”
Edna sips from her fresh martini. “What can I say? It’s a calling.”