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I threw on the first pair of jeans I could pull from my dresser before I tugged on a shirt. I took one last look at my bed and sighed at the way her side of the bed tangled up, then I shut my light off and headed for my car. Maybe she would be willing to talk. I was hoping she would fling her door open to me and invite me inside.
Part of me was even hoping she would ask me to stay and spend the day with her.
But as I walked up to her porch, I saw all the lights were off. It was well past 10 o’clock, and I supposed she still could have been sleeping. Her car was in the driveway, so I had a pretty good chance of catching her here, but the real question was yet to be answered.
And I got it when I knocked.
“Stella?”
My hand rapped against the door, beckoning for her to come to it.
“Stella, you home?”
I knocked a few more times before I shoved my hands into my pockets. I almost convinced myself that maybe she wasn’t here. That maybe Daisy had picked her up, and they were off getting breakfast. Maybe Stella was telling her what a terrible mistake she had made and Daisy was letting her know how fucked up she was, and I’d go back to work tomorrow, and the entire company would be hers, and she’d kick me to the curb.
But, last night wasn’t a mistake.
Not for me, anyway.
I heard the patter of footsteps behind the door. I saw a shadow move across the frosted glass of the skinny side windows, and it grew larger until it stopped just short of the door.
She was home.
Stella was home, and she had come to the door.
“Stella, we need to talk,” I said.
But still, she just stood behind the door.
“I know you’re scared,” I said. “And I know you’re freaked out. Please open the door so we can talk.”
I heard her shuffle before a slight thump came against the door. I imagined her pressing her forehead against it, listening to every word I was saying even though her body was still refusing to open the door to me. Maybe she thought to open the door somehow meant she was opening her body. Maybe she couldn’t control herself and felt we had to have this conversation with something in our way.
Maybe she thought I would be lost whenever she opened the door and looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes.
“I wanted you there when I woke up,” I said. “Last night was amazing. I saw a side of you I’ve never seen before, and I want to thank you for opening up to me that way. But, I also need you to understand that this won’t ruin the company. I won’t allow this to ruin what your father started. And if you open up and just look at me, you’ll know I’m telling you the truth.”
I held my breath for what seemed like hours before I saw the doorknob turn. I looked up into the eyes of a woman who was conflicted, frightened, and guarded. Her body was draped in a robe pulled tight against her body, and her hair was pulled back into a haphazard bun. She looked like she hadn’t slept well, what with the crookedness of her stance and the massive yawn that peeled from between her pillowy lips. But she still looked radiant.
And I was still enamored by her.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“I would love some,” I said.
I watched her make the coffee, and I counted how many times she stumbled. From the time she poured the water into the coffee maker until she got everything to the table, she had tripped six times. I was worried about how exhausted she was, but I was glad she seemed to have gotten home safe.
“You know you could’ve crashed on the couch,” I said. “You know, after everything.”
“No, I couldn’t,” she said flatly.
“I know you’re worried about what this does to the company,” I said.
“I slept with the boss,” she said.
“You are the boss, so I technically did, too,” I said.
“If word gets out about this, Christian…”
