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I’ve never been happier in my whole damn life, Super Bowls included. And that there says it all. When I think back on them now, something was amiss, and it was Stella. If only she could’ve been there to celebrate them with me.
The doorbell rings again.
I look down, at the naked woman lying on top of me, and pet her hair. I could watch this channel all day every day and never grow bored. “Baby, get dressed. Someone’s at the door.”
“Who shows up unannounced, in the middle of the night?”
I chuckle. “It’s only eight thirty.” After sex, all she wants to do is eat and sleep. Knowing it will take her a while, I slip on my sweatpants and go downstairs––and open the door to find my father standing there.
“My word, are you deaf? I’ve been ringin’ for half an hour.”
“Dad––what are you doin’ here?” I step aside with a pleased smile and he walks in. Pops has only been here a handful of times in the last decade so you can imagine my surprise.
“Came for a visit. What does it look like? I don’t know how you got through school sometimes.”
Stella appears on the staircase in nothing but one of my t-shirts, and although it’s long enough to hit her knees, her hair is a recently fucked mess while her lips are bruised red from…well, you know.
“We were doin’ laundry.” Best I can do on short notice.
Pops smiles crookedly, his blue eyes going from me to Stella, who’s turning beet red.
“That what you kids are callin’ it these days?”
Stella comes flying down the steps and throws her arms around my pops and he hugs her back.
“It’s so good to see you, Bill.”
“You too, sweetheart, you too.”
Stella
“Where are we goin’?” Bill asks while we sit around the kitchen table, having coffee and waiting for my mother to arrive. When I told her Bill was here, and we were going to Brooklyn she insisted on joining us.
“To the rec center in Brooklyn. They’re deliverin’ some important stuff today and I need to check on it,” his son answers.
“How’s Missy?” I ask Bill with a heavy heart.
“Missin’ you, sweetheart. You’ll come see her soon?”
“I would love to…Bill, I can’t apologize enough––”
“Now, now. Enough of that. It’s in the past.” He winks at me and I know he means it.
The doorbell rings and Dane gets up to answer. As soon as my mother walks into the room, Bill shoots to his feet and finger-combs his hair back. My mother is strangely still as they stare at each other.
“Mamí, this is Dane’s––”
“William Wylder.” The man in question moves forward with an outstretched hand.
William?
Brow furrowed, Dane’s gaze cuts to me and I shrug.
Twenty minutes later we all step inside the rec center, the three of us oohing and aahing while Dane, full of excitement, gives us a tour. The main room is filled with comfortable couches and tables, two computers and access to the internet. After that, Dane ushers us to the indoor basketball court which I’m sure will get plenty of use in the winter. Next comes the plot where a garden will be planted in the summer and the all-weather tennis court.
Looking around, I’m swamped with emotion. Awe, for the incredible things this man keeps accomplishing. Wonder, for his humility. Love, because he and his great big heart deserve it. A bit of envy, because he has seamlessly transitioned from a career he excelled at to something even better––helping people. And pride…so much pride because in my heart I want to believe he’s mine.
“I can hear you thinkin’,” he whispers in my ear.
“You amaze me.” He blinks back at me, surprise flashing on his beloved face. “I can’t believe what you’ve accomplished here…it’s amazing.”
I awoke at dawn with a feeling of dread––even on a Sunday. I thought it was a phase. That is, I was hoping it was a phase, but it’s not going away. Time to admit that the speed my job demands is not something I can sustain anymore. I’ve lost the taste for it, and with it the edge necessary to do it well.
“You know how I’ve been saying that work isn’t fun anymore?”
“Yeah?” he says, suddenly alert.
“What if I started a nonprofit? I could help low-income families with their finances.” Thinking on my feet, it comes to me out of order. “Everything from applying for grants, finding scholarships for their kids, tax breaks and government programs they may not be aware they qualify for. Many of them don’t have internet access and professional advice is expensive…there’s so much I could do.” In my excitement, I’m talking a mile a minute while Dane calmly stares back. “Did you catch any of it?”
“I think it’s perfect,” he says, smiling. “You should do it.”
Grabbing the collar of his jacket, I yank him down to my altitude and plant a big kiss on his lips. “You’re perfect.”
Still no L word, not even in the throws of passion. I don’t let it discourage me though. I can see he loves me. It’s in the way he watches me when I’m working around the house, in the way he touches me, in the way he pays attention to every little detail. Even if he hasn’t realized it yet, I have. I’m not naive enough to think this it’s enough to carry us into forever. However, I’m not going to spoil what we have now by worrying over how it will end.
“Is she your girlfriend?” a boy asks.
I look down. He’s no older than twelve, a little overweight, with big brown eyes and dimples. Cuter than cute.
“Angel, my man, ’bout time you showed up,” Dane says and fist-bumps the kid. “Well––what do you think? I wanted to run it by you first.” Dane swings an arm in the direction of a bunch of game tables.
Angel’s already big eyes get even bigger. “Oh man!” he says, hustling over to the tables.
“New friend?” I ask the man I love.
“He gives me advice on how to handle women.” With a side-eye, his mouth curves into a cocky smile that tells me there’s more to this story.
“Advice?”
“Hmm.”
Angel comes running over. “Oh man, it’s awesome! When can I play?”
“Rec center opens in two weeks. You need to be patient,” Dane tells him with a sweet smile.
Angel’s gaze falls on my belly bump, expression turns quizzical. “Are you having a baby?”
I give the bump a pat. “I sure am.”
“Are you married?”
Wow, okay, this kid is very direct. “No, Angel. I’m not.”
“It’s okay. My mom says that not all fathers want to be married.”
A pink elephant walked into the room. Or a unicorn. Or a purple gorilla. Or anything that would make everyone freeze and proceed cautiously. I steal a glance at Dane and find his expression wiped clean, not a hint of what is running through his head.
“Right…that is correct,” I mumble awkwardly.
“Maybe Dane will marry you.” And then Angel looks at Dane, whose discomfort is now out in plain sight and so obvious it can be seen from outer space.
They say things happen for a reason. Good thing I wasn’t harboring any delusions of a fairy-tale ending f
or us. I never have to wonder how he feels about marrying me. His expression says he’d rather have his balls waxed.
“Why don’t we give the foosball table a try?” Dane tells Angel. Taking the boy by the shoulders, they do just that.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Stella
Thanksgiving came and went. We had it at the townhouse. My brother made it home, and Levi traveled to New York for the very first time. Everybody came with the exception of Dane’s sister who couldn’t fly so close to her due date.
Dane was as excited about it as a kid at Disneyland. It made sense once he told me he never had a traditional Thanksgiving, that he’d always been busy with games, team meetings, or film study.
Quietly, without too much fanfare, our lives had seamlessly woven together. Things were good…almost too good.
“When were you going to tell me?” Tina asks as soon as I answer my cell phone, skipping right over the pleasantries. “When the baby graduated from college?”
I’m a coward. I fully admit it. For months I’ve been mulling over how to tell her and kept coming up empty.
It takes me a minute to answer. “I’m so sorry. I tried to call you a thousand times, I really did, but…I didn’t know what to say.”
“Jesus, Stel, you’re my family. I love you more than Will some days.”
I chuckle. First, because I know how crazy in love those two are. And second, because it’s a relief to hear her joking again. Tears funnel down my cheeks. I don’t bother brushing them away.
“Do you honestly think I don’t want you to get everything you want? I’m the one that told you not to wait.”
That one is a twist of the knife. Of course she wants me to be happy. Envy never crossed my mind. “I know…I know you do. I just…I don’t know. You were so sad and I didn’t want to rub it in…How are you doing?”
Silence hangs for a beat. “Will keeps talking about fostering.” Her tone tentative, I endeavor not to say too much in fear it might push her in the wrong direction.
