Page 66 of Sexting My Ex's Dad
I let out a breath of relief. “Sounds like fun.” And a part of me really means it. “Who knows, maybe it will help clear my head.”
“Exactly,” Isobel agrees, giving me an encouraging smile. “Trust me, Stella, this is just what you need.”
I hope she’s right.
38
STELLA
“Come on in,” Anastasia gestures us into the cozy living room. Plush cushions and soft blankets are strewn across the couches, creating an inviting atmosphere. A large bowl of popcorn sits on the coffee table, begging to be devoured.
The place has changed a lot since I’ve lived here, but that doesn’t surprise me. Anastasia isn’t good at sitting still. She has to switch things up constantly.
“Looks like you’ve got everything set up,” I remark, taking in the scene before me.
“Almost,” she replies, grinning. “We still need to prepare the cookie dough and pick a movie.”
“Ooh, what are our options?” Isobel asks.
“Three romantic comedies,” Anastasia announces proudly, holding up a stack of DVDs. “Take your pick.”
“Let’s go with this one,” She says, selecting a movie from the pile.
“I like that one. The male lead is drool-worthy!” Anastasia agrees, popping the DVD into the player. “Now, let’s get that cookie dough ready.”
I take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of chocolate chips and vanilla extract, as Anastasia hands me a whisk, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You sure you’re up for this, Stella? Baking isn’t exactly your strong suit.”
“Hey,” I protest, feigning offense. “I’ve made cookies before.”
Her face turns grim. “Trust me; I remember.”
“Were they that bad?” Isobel asks.
Anastasia nods while I say ‘no’ which makes the three of us laugh.
As I start to mix the dry ingredients, I can’t help but get distracted by our conversation. We talk about everything from work to family drama, and before I know it, I’ve dumped far too much flour into the bowl.
“Stella!” Anastasia exclaims, laughing as a cloud of flour poofs into the air. I groan, realizing my mistake.
“Oops,” I mutter sheepishly, trying to suppress my own laughter.
“See? I knew it,” she teases, wiping a smudge of flour off my cheek. “You’re a disaster in the kitchen.”
“Excuse me, Miss Perfect,” I retort playfully, flicking some flour back at her.
“By the way,” Anastasia says casually as she stirs in the chocolate chips, “I heard from my mom that Paul’s seeing someone new.” She glances at me, concern etched on her face. “I’m sorry, Stella. He’s such a jerk.”
Little does she know that I’m the one that’s a jerk. Paul and I would be seeing each other for real if I’d told him ‘yes’. It’s good that Paul has found someone better for him than me.
“Thanks,” I murmur, my heart sinking a little at the news. Still despite knowing better, I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. I never should have gone after Elio; now I’m the one left out in the dark. I shake my head, trying to focus on the task at hand.
“You deserve so much better than him.”
I glance over at Isobel, who’s been observing our conversation with furrowed brows. Her curiosity piqued, she can’t help but ask, “Wait, who’s Paul?”
“Ah,” Anastasia shifts her gaze between Isobel and me. “He’s my brother.”
“Your brother?” Isobel repeats, eyes flicking between us. She opens her mouth as if to ask about Elio, but I shoot her a pleading look, silently begging her not to bring him up. I’m not ready to dive into that complicated mess, especially not tonight.
