She picked up on the third ring.
“Hi, Stella.”
“Hi, Mom.”
It was the first time we’d spoken since our family dinner in April.
Four months.
It was the longest we’d gone without contact, and hearing her voice again caused a lump to form in my throat.
I’d had my reasons for lashing out the way I had during the dinner, but she was still my mom.
“How are you?” A rare thread of hesitation ran beneath her voice.
“I’m okay.” I twisted my necklace around my finger. “Sorry I missed your call. I’m out with a friend and I didn’t see it earlier.”
“That’s okay. It’s nothing important.” She cleared her throat. “I read your Washington Weekly profile. It’s a great piece, and your Delamonte photos are beautiful.”
All the air left my lungs. Of all the things I’d expected her to say, that hadn’t even been in the realm of possibility.
“Really?” I asked in a small voice.
My confidence had grown over the past few months, but there would always be a little girl inside me that wanted nothing more than her parents’ approval.
“Natalia said you and Dad were upset about the photos.”
My last conversation with my sister still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Well, we would’ve preferred it if you’d worn more clothes,” my mother said dryly. “But we were more shocked than upset. The profile, however…I had no idea you’d accomplished so much with your blog, or that you felt so strongly about fashion starting at such a young age.”
I didn’t point out that was something I’d been trying to tell her since I was in middle school. I didn’t want to start another argument.
“Is the profile the only reason you called?” I wouldn’t be surprised. My parents loved anything that made the family look good. “We haven’t talked in months.”
My mother was quiet for a minute. “Everyone’s emotions were running high after the dinner,” she finally said. “After things calmed, I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from us. You always call, and when you didn’t…you were so upset…”
You always call.
Translation: I always apologized first.
My hand curled tighter around my phone. “Dad told me to get out, and I didn’t know if you even cared that I wasn’t around.”
My mother let out a sharp exhale. “Of course we care. You’re our daughter.”
I twisted the necklace harder. “Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it,” I said, my words barely audible.
“Oh, Stella.” She sounded more distressed than I’d ever heard her. “We didn’t…”
Raucous cheers from the bar drowned out the rest of her sentence. The Nationals must’ve scored a run; their game against the Rangers was playing on all the TVs.
When the noise died down, my mother spoke again. “You’re out with a friend, so this isn’t the best time to talk. Perhaps we can all meet as a family soon? Not a dinner. Something more casual where we can just talk.”
“I’d like that,” I said softly.
I didn’t want to hold onto grudges, especially not against my family.
I hadn’t seen them in so long, and I wasn’t angry anymore. I was just sad.
After I hung up, I stayed in the hall and tried to wrap my head around the events of the day.
My call with the boutique, seeing Christian, talking to my mom…
It was too much at once, but the only thing I could focus on was how much I wanted to share what’d happened with Christian.
Not just the boutique and my mom, but everything.
How I accidentally used the wrong milk for my smoothie that morning and nearly gagged at the taste.
How Ava and Jules offered to be fit models for my collection.
How proud I was of all the local outreach I’d done.
How much I missed him.
I was so used to sharing the details of my life with Christian that even journaling didn’t fill the void.
In fact, I hadn’t touched my journal since we broke up; it was filled with too many memories of us.
I was upset with him, and I wished he were here. Both things could be true at once.
Light and dark. Flame and ice. Dreams and logic.
Our relationship had always been a dichotomy. It made sense that its death would be as well.
CHRISTIAN
Harper Security’sannual poker tournament took place in the company’s multipurpose room, which had been transformed into a mini-casino with an open bar and half a dozen poker tables.
It was usually restricted to staff only. This year, I broke my own rule and invited Rhys, who was in town without Bridget for once for some diplomatic event, and Alex, as a thank you for keeping an eye on things for me while I was in Italy. Josh was invited by default since he’d insisted on tagging along when he found out Alex would be attending.
I let him. I had too much other shit to worry about than his delusion that I was trying to steal his best friend.
The four of us sat at a table by the bar. The air was alive with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and shuffling decks, but the merriment did nothing to lighten my black mood.
“How many poker tournaments have you attended in the past?” Josh asked Alex suspiciously.
Exasperation filled Alex’s face. “I told you, this is my first one.”
“Just making sure.” Josh plucked a card from his deck and tossed it on the table. King of hearts. “Since you’d played dozens of chess matches with him”—he jerked a thumb at me—“and I didn’t know about it for literally years.”
Alex sighed.
“If you keep asking the same question over and over again, you can leave,” I said icily. I didn’t have time for Josh’s bullshit.
“Someone’s moody.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is it because Stella broke up with you?”
My jaw flexed while Alex and Rhys hid their smirks behind their cards.
I’d done a decent job of not thinking about Stella tonight until Josh fucking Chen brought her up.
You can’t kill a guest, a voice in my head reminded me.
Actually, I could do whatever the fuck I wanted, but then I’d have to deal with Alex. I also assumed Stella wouldn’t be too happy about me murdering her best friend’s brother.
“I am not moody. You are simply annoying.”
I didn’t know what Stella told her friends about us, but since she’d moved into Alex and Ava’s house, it was obvious we weren’t together anymore.
Josh shrugged. “Perhaps, but at least I’m not single.”
My hand twitched toward my gun.
“Keep provoking him, and he’ll kill you.” Rhys knew me too well. He’d been quiet most of the night, but humor lit his eyes when he looked at me.
“Is something funny?” I tossed out a card without looking at it.
“As a matter of fact, yes. Christian Harper moping over a girl,” he drawled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
A migraine gathered behind my temple.
“I’m not moping.” It took all my willpower not to punch the shit-eating grin off his face. “I don’t mope.”
What I’d been doing the past few weeks wasn’t moping. It was…processing.
“That’s not what Alex said.” As usual, Josh piped up even though the conversation had nothing to do with him. “He said you showed up to his house in tears the day Stella moved in.”
“I wasn’t in fucking tears!”
The room quieted as every head swiveled in my direction.
I saw Brock’s mouth drop and Kage’s eyebrows fly up out of the corner of my eye.
I never yelled.
Not when I’d found out about Magda’s theft, and not when shit went sideways at work. But it’d been a hellish two weeks, and I’d bled the database of people to fuck with when I had a bad day dry.
There were only so many computers I could hack into before it lost its luster.
I would’ve put more effort into creating a new list of names if I thought it would help, but it wouldn’t.
I didn’t need more people to fuck with.
I needed Stella.
“Oh. I must’ve remembered wrong,” Alex said mildly.
If I didn’t know better, I could’ve sworn that was laughter in his eyes.
“Remember when you gave me shit after the Bridget situation?” Rhys was practically in schadenfreude, that bastard. “You said love is, and I quote, tedious, boring, and utterly unnecessary. People in love are the most insufferable on the planet.” His grin widened. “Want to take that back?”
My teeth ground in irritation.
“It’s deeply concerning that you can quote me word for word. Find a new hobby, Larsen. Obsessing over me isn’t healthy.” I pushed back my chair, too aggravated to sit any longer.
“Where are you going? It’s your turn!” Josh protested. “We’re in the middle of a game!”
I ignored him and walked off with Rhys’s laughter at my back and irritation flickering through my veins.