Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Come away with me,” I murmur.
She scrubs the sleep from her eyes as if she wants to be sure this isn’t a dream. “What do you mean?”
“It’s almost Christmas. We can spend the rest of the holiday at my cottage in Nantucket.”
“You have a cottage in Nantucket?”
I nod, leaving out the part that I also have a Georgian estate on Connecticut’s Gold Coast and millions of dollars in my bank account. Divulging those facts to Stella seems arrogant, considering she has nothing. But right now, if she’d let me, I’d sign everything over to her if I knew it would make her happy.
“When would we leave?” she asks.
“Today. Right now. After you get ready.”
I don’t want to waste any time. I’ve already wasted too much, and at least in Nantucket, we won’t have to sneak around. I can fuck her and taste her and feed my obsession for her as much as I want, for as long as I want.
Stella seems to consider it for a minute, and I hate that she’s even thinking about it. Rightfully so, I wouldn’t be surprised if she turned me down. It’s what I deserve.
Instead, she crawls out of bed and stares at the mess that is her closet. “What should I bring?”
“Bring whatever’s easiest to take off you.”
STELLA FALLS asleep in the passenger seat on the drive up to Hyannis and remains that way for much of the ferry ride to Nantucket. Briefly, I wonder if she’s coming down with something, but I chalk it up to her being exhausted from the night before. When the car comes to a stop in front of the cottage, she perks right up.
“This is your place?” She studies the quaint white structure with a mixture of curiosity and nerves.
“This is it.” I grab our bags from the back seat, and she follows me to the door. Admittedly, I’m a little nervous too. I want her to like it here, and I don’t want to delve too deep into the motivation for that desire.
Despite her family’s obsession with money and material things, Stella doesn’t seem like she’s been plagued with the same sickness. In any case, this cottage might be small and unassuming, but the real estate is prime, being only steps from the beach, and it costs more than most average homes.
“Wow.” Her eyes sweep over the space as I open the door and let her inside. She surveys the open living area with floor-to-ceiling windows and makes herself at home, examining my furnishings and touching a few knickknacks as if to leave her mark.
“Do you spend a lot of time here?” She parks herself in front of the window, studying the waves in the ocean.
“Every summer.” I set down our bags and start my preparations for a fire while she reapplies her lipstick.
Now that I have her here, I’m not exactly sure what to do with her. Stella and I are good at sex. We are good at fighting. But we aren’t so good at everyday conversation. Probably because I’ve never given her the opportunity, but there’s a first time for everything.
She sits down on the sofa, looking a little unsure of herself as I light the fire. Once I have it going, I join her there, and she laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“We’ve never just hung out like this,” she remarks. “We’ve had a lot of sex. We’ve even slept together. But we haven’t ever just… talked.”
“So, talk.” I remove the tube of lipstick from her fingers and flip the cap off, examining the shade of red I’ve come to know well.
She studies me with a curious expression. “What do you want me to talk about?”
“Whatever you want.”
The room falls silent while she considers it, and then she leans back into the sofa, curling her feet up beneath her. I know we’re supposed to be talking, but I can’t stop myself from reaching out to trace my finger along the lines of her fishnet tights. Stella shivers and then scoots a little closer, and the next thing I know, she’s tucked securely against my body with my arm wrapped around her. Cuddling, I think normal people like to call it.
I need a distraction from the war inside my head, so I use the lipstick to draw inside the blank squares of her tights. Stella smirks as I add more letters, completing the game of tic tac toe on her skin.
“I changed my mind about Cornell,” she volunteers.
Tension blooms in my chest, but I adopt a neutral tone as I push for her to explain. “You did?”
“Yes.” She looks up at me. “You were right. I don’t know what I was doing with that stupid plan my mom came up with. I didn’t want any of it.”
And just like that, I’ve finally accomplished the thing I set out to. Out of all my projects, Stella has been the only one I could ever say was a success. She opened her eyes, and now she’s ready to walk her own path. It’s what I’ve been working toward for the entirety of my career at Loyola. I kept telling myself that once I reached this goal, I would be satisfied. As if I would magically feel better about Katie’s death and she would be proud of me. But when I look at Stella and remember the hell I’ve put her through, I know I’m dead wrong about that. Katie would be disgusted by the person I’ve become.