Page 93 of The Other Side of Paradise
“Mm.” I took a second to actually process what he’d said, and I rounded on him. “I’m sorry, what the fuck?”
“Her dad.” He checked his phone. “He should be getting up to the rooftop spot in a few minutes. I’ll take over on the desk so you can go say hi.”
“Why is he talking to me,” I said, my voice flat and strangled, more of an incredulous statement than a question. He shrugged.
“Oh, probably giving you his blessing to marry his daughter.”
“Gavin.”
“He seemed worried about her. I dunno. He said you were the one who’s been friends with her, and I tried to bullshit non-answer my way out, but he saw through it, so, whoops, sorry. I wouldn’t tell him if you were on the schedule today, so I told him you’d go see him if you were in. So if you don’t want to talk to him, you probably shouldn’t be on the desk in about… fifteen minutes? I don’t know how long he’ll wait before he comes down to look for you.”
“Oh, fuck me.” But hell, I guess what did I have to lose? For some reason, I wanted to go talk to the man—wanted to go be the one to vouch for Stella, to tell him she was a fully independent young woman who deserved her own base human respect.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t scared shitless, though.
The rooftop was cool and brisk, the temperature a bit lower today, and I was glad when I found the man in question standing under the covered part of the rooftop terrace, shielded from the wind by the tall creeping plants. I felt sick with nerves, walking across the smooth tile towards him, and when the floor transitioned to wood in the covered section, it creaked underfoot enough for him to look up from his phone and put it away, and he held out a coffee cup.
“Hey. Coffee?”
Stella had told me he’d done that to her. I guess that was just how he greeted people. “That won’t be necessary, thankyou,” I said in my best customer service voice, and he pushed the coffee closer.
“Just take it.”
Maybe he poisoned it. I took it gingerly. “Thank you. Er… is there something I can do to help you today, Mr. Bell?”
He sank down on the suede bench seating and gestured me to the other side of the glass table, elbows on his knees and hands folded between his legs. “Is Stella doing all right?” he said, and my stomach pulled into a tight knot. Slowly, I sank down across from him, and I dropped the customer service voice, matching his tone.
“She’s doing well. She’s attending an art workshop run by a friend of mine right now… she’s been having a good time on this trip.”
“Tell me Stella’s planning on leaving with the rest of us.”
I mean, I kind of hoped she wouldn’t. “I… have no reason to believe she won’t.”
He looked away. “Well, one daughter starts something, you start to wonder if they both will.”
I frowned. “Ryan’s… not leaving?”
“Not with the rest of us, apparently.” He sighed, a hand to his forehead. “I had a fight with Stella yesterday. It wasn’t enjoyable for either of us. I believe she skipped the family brunch. I did, too.”
“Oh…”
“Apparently I’d missed the part where Ryan stood up from the table, shouted everybody down, came out as bisexual, and said she was booking her own way back.”
“Shit.” I wasn’t supposed to swear in front of a guest. He seemed to be of the same mindset, though, nodding gravely.
“I wasn’t informed of the developments until this morning.”
“Seriously?” I clutched the coffee cup with both hands. I didn’t doubt Brooklyn knew, but Ryan probably hadn’t wanted it getting around. But both Stella and her dad being out of the loop? “Stella wasn’t kidding that the family doesn’t share a lot of info, huh?”
He pursed his lips. “Stella’s one to talk.”
I frowned, overstepping my bounds with zero hesitation. “Sounds like the issue people have had with Stella is that sheistalking.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, studying, before he leaned back in his seat, kicking one foot up onto his other knee. I guess he conceded that point, because he changed the subject. “Their mother was there and was, as far as I understand, embarrassed. Wanted to try to find a way to get Ryan to come back quietly without stirring up a fuss and without admitting what had happened. Elizabeth’s mother mentioned something about Ryan’sgreat big declaration at brunchand I had to confront Elizabeth about what exactly that was, and she had a breakdown and walked out the door.”
“Shit,” I said quietly. “Okay, I can see why you’re stressed.”
“What’s Stella been doing?” he said, his voice not quite there, looking not quite at me. “She’s… well. I haven’t been able to get in touch with her.”
