With a laugh, Jordyn looks over at me. I think. I’m back to staring at the door. “Why don’t you come out on the floor and try to dance, Aiden?” she suggests, tugging my elbow. “Good God, man. It’s Christmas Eve, not Tax Day.”
To my surprise, another one of the sales associates appears behind her. “Yeah, come on, Mr. Cook,” he says, quickly joined by two other half-drunk employees. “Loosen the bow tie. We’re about to teach your aunt how to Renegade.”
“How to what?”
Jordyn continues to pull me toward the dance floor and with so many people on her side, I have no choice but to follow. Someone takes my jacket and the music changes, going from Sinatra to hip hop and everyone cheers. With a hard object lodged in my throat, I have no choice but to stand in the middle of the dance floor and nod along as someone from accounting tries to teach me dance moves that seem so easy in theory but are actually very complex when I try to execute them. Maybe because my arms currently weigh a thousand pounds each.
With what little of my brain is functioning, I notice employees smiling at me. They like me, they’re addressing me by name. I’ve always been friendly with the employees in my immediate office, but now my network extends beyond that. To the electronics department whiz kid. To our children’s footwear buyer. I didn’t have those connections a few weeks ago. Before Stella. She’s opened up the world around me and I just need her back in it.
I’m not sure what causes me to stop attempting the Renegade and glance up.
Maybe it’s the increased thudding of my heart. That internal metal detector that beeps whenever Stella is nearby. X marks the spot. But I look up and there she is at the edge of the dance floor. She’s smiling at me with tears in her eyes, so beautiful I have to suck in a breath.
And she’s wearing a robe.
A red and black plaid robe that goes all the way down to her toes.
There’s a matching one draped over her arm.
Before I register the movement of my feet, I’m weaving through people on the dance floor, love and relief cutting through me like a buzzsaw. She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s here and she’s okay. Thank God. My brain tells me to stop when I’m close and ask how she’s doing, where she’s been, if she’s sad or happy or both. But I just keep right on walking, plowing into her with a bear hug big enough to set her off laughing—and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard in my entire life.
“I don’t want space,” I growl without preamble.
“Me either,” she whispers unevenly. “I don’t want it or need it.”
Another current of relief flows through me. “Thank God,” I rasp into her neck. Her sweet, perfect neck. “Is that robe for me?”
“Of course it is.” She lets me pick her up off the floor and squeeze her tighter, as if I have any choice when she’s just shown up with matching robes. “I wasn’t free to wear one with you. Not yet. I had to fix something first, okay? But I’m here now.” Her arms wrap more securely around my neck. “I’m one hundred percent here and I love you.”
God help me, my heart starts slamming up down and sideways with such a vengeance, I almost lose my balance. The declaration is unexpected. It’s also the best gift I’ve ever received. The only one I’ll ever need. “I love you, too, Stella.” I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, everywhere I can reach until she gives me that incredible laugh again. “You’re home now.” But that’s not quite right, so I amend it. “We’re home now.”
I’m forced to set her down so I can wipe the tears off her face. I perform the task with a sweep of my thumbs. Then, without taking my eyes off her for a single second, I bend down and pick up the robe that had fallen while I hugged her half to death. I put it on, belt it, take her by the hand. We smile at each other on my way to introduce her to Aunt Edna.
It’s our first best Christmas together. First of many over the decades.
And with her, each one is better than the last.
Epilogue
Stella
One Year Later
Fingers digging into the edge of my passenger seat, I turn to study Aiden’s profile. “I’m no longer sure this is a good idea.”
He takes one look at my face, frowns with concern and pulls our rental Jeep over to the side of the road, cutting off the engine. Without the wipers to clear the falling snow, white stuff immediately starts to block our view of the road. A familiar road. The one leading to my parents’ house.
Aiden reaches over, brushing a hand down the back of my hair. “It’s normal to be nervous, Stella. But everything is going to be fine.” He dips his head until he makes eye contact, giving me a lopsided smile. “Miracles happen on Christmas, don’t they? And really, we only need a quarter of a miracle here. We’re just opening the door with your parents. There’s no pressure on either of you to walk through it on the first try.”
Borrowing some calm from my steadfast boyfriend of one year, I take a deep breath and nod. I look out at the curving road, remembering the last time I was on it. My father had just picked me up outside of Bedford Hills and the air was tense. Temporary. He was bringing me home long enough to turn me around and send me in another direction. I understood. And not wanting to deal with their anger and disappointment, I’d remained silent. Distant. Closed off in my old room until it was time to go.
Has that lonely, directionless girl changed so much in a year?
Yeah.
I have.
Last Christmas Eve was the start of Stella Schmidt giving her whole self to life and love. I stayed with Aiden while helping Nicole find employment at a catering company. She lived in my uncle’s place for about two months before he broke up with his current girlfriend and decided to return, so we found Nicole a room to rent in a three-bedroom apartment in Astoria. She shares it with two other girls our age and they’ve become good friends. We still meet for dinner once a month and talk on the phone, but we’re individuals. She has her own life now and I have mine. Our relationship is a lot healthier and stronger because of it.
As far as my living situation…once I moved in with Aiden so Nicole could make use of my uncle’s apartment, I sort of never left.
He made it way too difficult.
For one, he redecorated little by little. Stella touches, he called them. He kept the throwback Mad Men vibe of his apartment, but it slowly became a bachelor and bachelorette pad. His coffee table was replaced by an ornate vintage trunk. He had an accent wall painted a black metallic color. He brought home the retro dress cage from my first Vivant window and positioned it in the corner of our bedroom…and that’s when I realized I’d started calling it our bedroom. Our apartment. He’d bamboozled me. Redecorated without actually mentioning he was making any changes. But one day I looked around and realized what he’d done.
“What are you thinking about?” Aiden asks me now, the pad of his thumb coasting across my bottom lip.
“I’m thinking about home.” I turn my head and kiss his wrist. “Our home in New York.”
His eyes go soft, searching, the way they do when he’s feeling romantic. So pretty much constantly. “What about it, sweetheart?”