Page 18 of One Last Shot

“So then you just say ‘The feeling is mutual. So go away already!’”

“What’s mutual mean?” Stella asks, looking up at her as she licks her ice cream cone. Her dark brown curls frame her face and hang past her shoulders, and in that moment it looks like a six-year-old version of Petra standing with the adult version. I’d never noticed how much she resembles Petra at that age. Hell, I only ever focused on teenage Petra. I almost forgot she was a little girl who grew up on a country estate with three older boys, and that Victor, Niko, and I wanted nothing to do with her back then.

“Um,” Petra stalls as she tries to think of a way to explainmutual. “It means you both feel the same way. So instead you could say ‘I don’t want to be around you either, so go away!’”

“Okay,” Stella says, “I’ll try that.Dyadyakeeps telling me that Jason is just being mean because he likes me.”

The look Petra shoots over her shoulder this time is decidedly less friendly.

“He might be right,” she tells Stella, “but you need to stand up for yourself and teach him that you won’t be treated like that. Boys need to learn more appropriate ways to get girls’ attention than tormenting them.”

“I think so too.” Stella beams up at Petra. Oh good, her feminist training begins now. Petra could teach Stella a thing or two about resilience too.

Stella stops to look up at the arch of orchids we’re walking through on our way toward the exit. “I want orchids like this in my bedroom,” Stella says.

“While that would be beautiful,” I speak up from behind them, “it is also impractical. Orchids don’t grow in arches like this naturally. This is a thousand plants together, carefully tended by master gardeners.”

“What if I just got a few plants?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s time to stop at the Botanical Store on the way out, but maybe another time,” I tell her.

By the way Stella frowns, I’m afraid we’re heading for an argument. Stopping at any museum gift store as you leave is a must with kids, but we really don’t have time if we’re going to make it back into the city for her piano lesson. Instead, Petra distracts her with some questions about school and we make it out of the Botanical Gardens without an issue.

In the car, we all sit in the back seat as my driver, Daniel, navigates us through stop-and-go traffic. I glance at my watch, wondering if the rush hour traffic will result in her missing her lesson. Again. For the third week in a row.

“We aren’t having dinner with Aunt CeCe and Uncle Tony tonight, right?” Stella asks, looking up at me from her booster seat between Petra and me. I see the worry etched there and my heart constricts. The thought of her ever ending up with people she so clearly doesn’t feel comfortable around is the main driver of my determination to adopt her.

“No, that’s tomorrow night,” I tell her.

“Hey,” Petra says softly as she rests her hand on Stella’s knee and gives it a little squeeze. “Why aren’t you excited to see your aunt and uncle?”

I’ve never asked Stella that question. I’ve never wanted to be the one to pit her against the other side of her family.

“They just make me feel ... icky,” Stella says.

“Icky?” Petra asks.

“Yeah. I just don’t like being around them. I don’t like when they come over for dinner.”

Petra looks at me, her eyes opening wide and her eyebrows raising. I give her a small shrug in return, because I don’t know what Stella means any more than she does.

“They can’t be that bad,” Petra says. She’s not dismissing Stella’s comment, she’s clearly trying to get her to better explain the issue.

“Can you come to dinner tomorrow night too?” Stella asks. “Then you can see what I mean.”

Petra stills. Across the back seat of the car I watch her placid face, wondering what’s going on beneath the surface.

“It’s probably a good idea for you to meet them and see what we’re up against,” I suggest.

She glances over at me, and in her eyes I can see the push and pull—not wanting to get involved, but already involved nonetheless.

“Okay,” she says.

“Thank you!” Stella says, launching herself at Petra as much as her seatbelt will allow. Stella wraps her arms around Petra’s waist, and though she looks a little uncomfortable with the affection, Petra lifts her arm and wraps it around Stella’s back, holding my niece to her side.

“Six thirty tomorrow night, my place,” I tell her.

She closes her eyes and gives me a quick nod. I wish I could read her thoughts. How does she feel about getting involved in my niece’s life like this? And most importantly, is she willing to help me get citizenship so I can adopt Stella? She’ll give me those answers when she’s good and ready, but for the first time, it occurs to me that the wait might damn near kill me.

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