Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
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?