Page 87 of Still Yours
“Care to share?” Carly sidles up to me, following my line of sight. Her eyes narrow in suspicion.
“It’s nothing.” I make an about-face into the dining room. Not that Carly would stay where she is.
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”
Sighing, I focus on straightening the place settings. Multicolored pumpkins decorate the maroon tablecloth, nestled in small bushels of straw. Cream candles stand at varying heights, their flame reflecting off Mrs. Stalinski’s gold-rimmed China plates. I’ve dimmed the small chandelier above, and while the sun sets, a soft glow encases the entire room.
It’s beautiful. Perfect. I wish Mrs. Stalinski could see it.
“Turning into Martha Stewart won’t get me off your case,” Carly says behind me.
“I’m figuring out what to say and how to say it.” I straighten the forks beside each plate unnecessarily.
“Are you sleeping with him? No, don’t answer that.” Carly peers closer, her proximity tingling against the side of my face. “You’re totally fucking him.”
“Okay, fine.” I throw my hands up and face her. “I am. And I’d love your support while I do it.”
Carly cocks a manicured auburn brow.
“You don’t have to say it,” I continue. “It’s not a good idea, since we have so much history and baggage. He broke my heart and left me. But I’m older now, and I’d like to thinkwiser, too. We need each other’s bodies to forget the harder parts of our lives, and it feelsgood, dammit. This time, there’s no unbreakable connection. No hope. I’m not in love with him anymore, which means it doesn’t hurt to use him for my pleasure.”
It’s hard to catch my breath after that speech. Difficult to hear myself over my rampant heartbeat.
Carly takes my hands in her own. I expect a lecture to come, the requisite best friend insisting she must protect me from my demons.
Instead, she surprises me. “Noa, if it makes you happy, then that’s all I care about. I’m not here to judge.” Carly’s gaze darts past my shoulder, her eyes widening. “But …”
I stare at her, perplexed. “What?”
Her eyes come back to mine. “Stone’s behind you.”
My heart ratchets up my throat. I release my hands from hers. I have to face him, but I won’t lie and say my slow spin wasn’t painful. It takes extra effort to raise my head and see his expression and if he heard what I said.
“Stone, I?—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
His curt interjection eases my turn into his spotlight. But when I meet his gaze, my chest twinges with sick agony.
Worry lines frame his eyes and mouth. His blue eyes, as warm as a summer sky, have dulled into gray clouds. Those lips of his, always ready for a quip or wry comment to release humor to make any situation better, are closed and flat. Maisy stands next to him, her lips thin and white around the edges.
My attention returns to Stone. I’ve never seen him this closed off.
It makes me nauseous to think I caused it.
I step forward, wanting to grab his hand and assure myself he’s still warm. I only said what I thought he’d want in thissituation. No strings, no involved hearts, just sex. If I’d told Carly the truth, that Stone was curling under my skin again, and this time, I wasn’t confident I’d be able to cut him out, she’d surely give me the best friend demon speech.
I open my mouth to tell him all of this, hoping to reverse what new, deep cracks I’ve put in his expression when he recoils from my touch.
His scowl deepens. “Ma can’t come down. I can’t get her out of bed without her crying out in pain. I can’t do this. I can’t have a huge feast in her dining room with her in agony upstairs.”
I clasp my hands together. The backs of my eyes heat but clenching my teeth together and swallowing hard keeps the tears at bay. I nod, acknowledging his anguished revelation.
“I have an idea,” I say. It feels like I’m talking through the spaces in my teeth. “It’s something I did with my mom. Maybe Mrs. Stalinski will be up for it.”
Stone’s already shaking his head. “You’ve seen her. She can’t roll to her side without suffering.”
“Let me talk to her,” I say, too bright, too eager to escape what was once a warm, inviting, family-centered room.
