Page 74 of Sparks Fly
Stella squeezed his hand. “That’s a really good answer.”
“Yeah, I thought so.” He closed his eyes. “You know what’s crazy? I can remember playing on the beach, the smell of the ocean, and my mother’s mofongo. But sometimes I can’t remember her face. I have a few pictures, but conjuring her face in my head is hard sometimes. I don’t know why I can remember some things so clearly, but her face seems to always be slipping farther and farther away.”
“I think our senses can be weird like that,” Stella said. “Smells and tastes linger more in our minds than what we see. Or at least I think I read that somewhere. Don’t quote me.”
Their food arrived then, and they paused their conversation. Once the waiter disappeared again, Max continued.
“She was never sick,” he said. “My mom, I mean. She didn’tseem sick. But one day she just collapsed. One second she was in the kitchen making breakfast, and the next I couldn’t see her. It was like she disappeared. I didn’t even hear her fall.”
This time Stella wrapped her arms around him. Max could feel the eyes of the other patrons and the staff on them, but he didn’t care. He accepted her embrace, pulling her into his arms as he swallowed the tears that threatened to fall. Hugs were fine, but he wasn’t about to have an emotional breakdown in the middle of some Italian restaurant in Brooklyn.
When he finally let Stella go, he pushed out the rest of the story, ready to be done with it.
“She had a heart attack,” he said. “Later, when we were in high school, my parents explained to us that she’d died from undetected congenital heart disease. There had been something wrong with her aortic valve since she was born, but no one knew so she’d never been treated or monitored. My parents had both of us tested soon after our adoption to make sure we didn’t have it, too.
“We don’t,” Max quickly added at the look of concern on Stella’s face. “I’m fine. But it is genetic, so it’s something I’ll have to look for if I ever have kids.”
“I’m so sorry, Max,” Stella said.
“Thanks,” he said. “It was a long time ago, but…thanks.”
Stella nodded. “I kind of wish I hadn’t brought all this up. I feel like I really killed the vibe.”
“Don’t be,” he said. He leaned over and tugged a stray braid behind her ear, pulling her close to him.
“I don’t know if I ever would’ve told you if you hadn’t asked,” he said. “And I want you to know everything about me. Not just the hot, nerdy-guy parts.”
Stella raised her brows. “Who called you hot?”
“So many people,” he said. “I’m pretty sure my sixth-grade teacher took one look at me and said, ‘What a hot young man that is.’ ”
“Sixth grade? I think that’s illegal.”
Max shrugged. “She was only stating the obvious.”
Stella gave him the most incredulous look, but when he kissed her, she ended up laughing against his lips.
“You’re so ridiculous,” she said when he pulled back.
“Maybe, but you love it.”
Her face grew serious, and Max worried he had somehow said the wrong thing, but then she said, “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Thirty-Seven
Stella spent the majority of her extended weekend thinking about Max and his story.
He’d been caught up with a project at work for the rest of the week and then one of his friends was having a birthday party. He’d invited her to come, but she felt like meeting his friends was a strictly girlfriend thing to do and they still hadn’t defined the relationship, as Effie put it. Although Stella was feeling more and more like it was time to have that conversation because it certainly felt like Max was her boyfriend.
They spent all their time together, spoke multiple times a day, and most importantly, he felt like hers and she didn’t want to share. So why couldn’t she just tell him that? It was like every time the words came to her, they got stuck in her throat and all she could do was swallow them down.
Now it was Monday, and she felt like she’d wasted herwhole long weekend doing nothing except watching K-dramas and talking to Max on the phone.
“Why do you look more exhausted than when I last saw you?” Effie asked as Stella slid into her chair. “Ew, don’t tell me you were doing it all weekend.”
“ ‘Doing it’?” Stella asked. “Really?”
“Would you like me to saysexual intercourseinstead?”
