August 6
Stella,
Remember when you ran into me in the lobby the night we signed our agreement? You mentioned a date should include dinner, drinks, and hand holding. Or, as an alternative, cuddling on a bench overlooking the river, followed by whispered sweet nothings and a goodnight kiss.
At the time, it was the most atrocious thing I’d ever heard, but if you ever come back to me…I have it all planned out.
We’ll have dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant in Columbia Heights. It’s a tiny place, barely large enough to seat a dozen people at one time, but they make the second-best gnocchi in the world (after my grandmother’s).
She’s not here anymore, but when I was a kid, I went to her house after school and she spent hours teaching me how to cook. Besides my time with you, those days were my happiest. Laughing with her in the kitchen, rolling the dough and getting flour all over ourselves while the old sixties music she loved played in the background.
Her gnocchi was my favorite dish. Unfortunately, her recipe was lost after she died, but when I tried it at this restaurant…it was the closest I’d found to how she used to make it.
I know I went off on a tangent, but I wanted to share that story with you. I’ve never told anyone about how I learned to cook before.
Anyway, I think you would love the restaurant. After that, we’ll have drinks at a bar nearby, then go to the Georgetown waterfront and sit on a bench by the river. We can kiss and hold hands and whisper however many sweet nothings you want.
Because if this date does happen, it means you’ve forgiven me. And if I have you back, I’ll never give you a reason to leave again.
* * *
August 12
Stella,
It’s two-thirty in the morning as I write this.
I haven’t slept in almost twenty-four hours.
But I couldn’t go to sleep without telling you this…
I’m trying, Butterfly. I’m trying so fucking hard.
To stay away from you. To not think about you. To not love you.
My life would be so much easier if I could move on, but I know I can’t.
Even if you never forgive me.
Even if you never talk to me again.
Even if you move on.
I’ll still love you.
You will always be my first, last, and only love.
STELLA
That weekend,my family and I met at a cafe in Virginia.
We sat in a booth near the exit. It was the quietest corner of the restaurant, which bustled with the Sunday brunch rush.
My father wore his favorite blue polo shirt, my mother wore her signature pearls, and my sister wore lethal heels and a mildly annoyed expression, the way they always did during our monthly meals.
It was like our family dinner had transplanted itself into a green leather booth instead of my parents’ prized mahogany dining table.
The only differences were the sunny windows and the awkward silence blanketing the table after we ran out of small talk.
“So.” My mother cleared her throat. “How’s Maura doing?”
I blinked at her choice of topic, but I answered readily. “She’s doing well. She has her garden and puzzles at Greenfield, so she’s happy.”
My mother nodded. “Good.”
Another silence fell.
We’d been dodging the elephant in the room all afternoon. At this rate, we’d be here until closing time.
I closed my hands around my mug and took courage from the warmth seeping into my palms.
“About what happened at the dinner…” Everyone visibly stiffened. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Mom,” I said softly. “That wasn’t my intention. But you have to understand why I’ve been paying for Maura’s care. She’s always been there when I needed her. Now she’s the one who needs me, and I can’t leave her to fend for herself. She has no one else.”
“I do understand.” My mother gave a small smile when I startled in surprise. “I’ve had time to think about it over the past few months. The truth is, I’ve always been a little jealous of your relationship with Maura. It’s my own fault, of course. I was too busy with my career to spend much time with you girls. By the time I realized how much I’d missed, you were all grown up. You didn’t want to spend time with us anymore. We practically have to force you to come to our family dinners.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you. It’s…” My cheeks warmed. “It’s the accomplishments game.”
It sounded stupid when I said it out loud, but every time I thought about that “fun game,” anxiety crawled beneath my skin and ate away at my nerves.
“It makes everything into a competition,” I said. “You, Dad, and Natalia all have these high-powered jobs, and I’m…well, you know. I love fashion, and I’m not ashamed of it. But every time we play that game, I feel like I’m the biggest disappointment at the table.”
“Stella.” My mother sounded pained. “You’re not a disappointment. I admit, we don’t always understand your choices, and yes, we wished you’d chosen a more financially stable career than fashion. But you could never disappoint us. You’re our daughter.”
“We want what’s best for you,” my father added gruffly. “We weren’t trying to keep you from doing what you loved, Stella. We just didn’t want you waking up one day realizing you’ve made a mistake when it’s too late.”
“I know.” I didn’t doubt that my parents wanted what was best for me. It was the way they went about it that was the problem. “But I’m not a child anymore. You have to let me make my own decisions and mistakes. If my fashion line takes off, great. If it doesn’t, I’ve learned some important lessons and I’ll do better next time. I just know that’s what I want to do. I can’t go back to working for someone else.”
My parents exchanged glances while Natalia shifted next to me.
“I have a decent amount of money from some big brand deals I signed, and I…” I hesitated before I finished. “I completed my first collection. A local boutique agreed to stock it, so I’m hoping that’ll bring in more money as well.”
I also planned to do an official launch online, but I wanted to test the waters first.
My mother’s eyes widened. “Really? Oh, Stella, that’s amazing!”
“Thank you,” I said shyly. I traced the handle of my mug with my thumb. “So, you’re not mad that I’m not looking for an office job?”
Another exchange of glances.
“Obviously, you’re doing well with your partnerships, and the fashion line is off to a good start.” My father coughed. “There’s no reason why you should get an office job if that’s not what you want. But,” he said when a smile blossomed on my face. “If you ever run into trouble, you need to tell us. No hiding it like you did the D.C. Style debacle.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
“Good. Now, where’s that smart-mouthed boyfriend of yours?” he grumbled. “It was disrespectful, the way he spoke to me in my own home, but I suppose he wasn’t entirely wrong.”
My smile dimmed. “We, um…” I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. “We broke up.”
Three pairs of surprised eyes turned to me.
Considering the way Christian and I had defended each other at the dinner, they’d probably thought we would last longer than a few months.
So had I.
“I’m sorry,” my mother said sympathetically. “How are you doing?”
I forced a smile. “I’ll be okay.”
“You’ll find someone better.” My father’s tone turned brisk. “Never liked him. If you knew some of the rumors”—he broke off when my mother elbowed him sharply in the ribs—“But I guess they don’t matter now,” he finished with another grumble.
I switched topics, and the conversation lightened until my father went outside to take a call and my mom went to use the restroom.