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“Yes.”
“No thanks. Not interested.”
“Do you know how much you could save on money instead of paying someone to drive you around nonstop? Plus, I know you hate people. Wouldn’t you like to drive yourself with no people in the car?”
“My driver knows not to talk to me.”
“Yeah, but you’re you, which means you probably hate having someone sitting in the same vehicle as you.”
Touché.
“Besides”—she shrugged—“I’ve been driving my whole life. I learned when I was eight years old from Kevin.”
I know she didn’t mean for it to, but that felt like a sucker punch. The man who was supposed to teach me things like that taught some other kids instead.
I knew in my heart that wasn’t Stella’s fault, but it still bothered me.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling me away from my thoughts. “That he wasn’t there for you.”
“How did you…?” I started, startled that she almost pulled my thoughts from me. I prided myself in my poker face skills. When things bothered me, I didn’t show it on the outside. My demons remained within.
“The corner of your mouth. It twitches when you’re sad.” She smiled a little. “You’ve been able to pick up cues about me as my husband, but I’ve also been noticing things about you as your wife.”
“What else have you noticed?”
“The wrinkles around your eyes deepen when you’re mad, and your nose flares up. If you eat something you don’t like, your jaw clenches. When you’re stressed with work, you release a row of heavy grumbles. When you’re nervous, you scratch the palm of your hand. When you’re worried about me… you hold eye contact.”
“What do I do when I’m happy?”
She frowned and tilted her head. “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”
“All right, lady and gent, you are all ready to go. Here is your discharge paperwork,” the nurse said, coming in beaming. “You be careful on that ankle, will you?” she warned Stella.
“I will.”
The nurse turned to me. “And you take care of her, mister.”
I looked over at Stella, who was looking at me. “I will.”
We arrived back at the property as the sun awakened the sky, and I walked Stella to her bedroom and helped her get settled into her bed with the crutches.
“Are you okay?” I asked once she was tucked into bed.
I did that.
I tucked her into bed.
Since when was I a guy who tucked people into bed?
What are you doing to me, woman?
“I’m okay. Thank you for everything, Damian.”
“Rest,” I told her, and then I said good night.
20
Damian
