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Once all the gifts are handed out, my dad puts his arm around my mom and clears his throat to get everyone’s attention.
“We’re grateful you’re all here to celebrate with us. This year we’re celebrating Christmas and also Ben and Stella’s engagement. And Stella, we’re all missing your mom this year. She was a wonderful woman who embodied the spirit of this day.
“Thank you,” Stella says softly, tears shining in her eyes.
I get my usual gifts from my parents—new ties, socks, a few books and a hoodie. Stella opens a scarf and a gift card to a local coffee shop.
When my mom is opening Stella’s gift to my parents, Stella takes my hand, squeezing it. She’s nervous, but I don’t know why.
I find out when my mom’s mouth drops open with surprise as she sees what’s inside. “Oh, Stella. It’s so beautiful.”
My dad helps her remove the gift from the box. It’s a lamp, the base made from worn bricks.
“I salvaged those bricks from the church in downtown Madison where you guys got married,” Stella says. “It was torn down a couple of months ago.”
My mom’s eyes well with tears. “It’s so lovely. We’ll treasure this forever. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
As soon as all the gifts are open, Owen leaves the room. He’s been gone for about twenty minutes when I decide to go after him. I find him outside, smoking a cigarette on the side of the garage.
“What the hell, man? You smoke now?”
He shrugs. “Not every day. Just when I’m stressed.”
I lean against the garage wall next to him. “Are you stressed now?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
I kick the snow piled in the yard with the toe of my shoe. “You do realize you did this to yourself, right?”
“Yeah. I know I don’t deserve her after what I did. I guess I just didn’t realize how much I’d regret it.”
I sigh heavily. He messed things up for himself, but he’s still my brother.
“It’s not because of you, you know. I don’t want her because of you. That was actually the reason I tried not to want her so much. But I’ve loved her for a long time.”
His brows shoot up with surprise. “Really?”
“I never would have acted on it or said anything if you guys had stayed together.”
He takes a long drag on his cigarette, not saying anything.
“Did us showing up cause problems with you and Cara?”
“Cara’s insecure. She wants us to be something more than we are.”
“Well, you brought her over for Christmas Eve. You must be serious.”
He shrugs again, looking out at the glittering snow. “She nagged her way into that. I’m over it. She got mad last night and I’m not going to try to smooth things over.”
“I know it’s hard for you to be happy for me and Stella, but I hope in time it’ll get easier. I want you to find happiness, too. Whatever that looks like for you.”
A minute of silence passes before he says, “I know you’ll be good to her. She deserves that.”
“Come on.” I nod toward the door back into the house. “Let’s go have a beer.”
He takes a tiny spray mouthwash from his pocket and squirts it in his mouth. “Did you have to bring that viper with you?”
“She’s Stella’s best friend.”
“I’ve never liked her.”
“You don’t have to like her, just don’t antagonize her.”
He scoffs. “She’s the antagonist.”
I turn and start my walk back to the house. “You coming?”
“Yeah.”
He falls into step beside me. I’m not sure things will ever be the way they were between us, but I still want a relationship with my brother.
“Don’t ask me to be your best man,” he says gruffly.
“Okay.”
“I’ll come to the wedding, just don’t ask me to be your best man.”
“Deal.”
“She’s really not pregnant?”
I glare at him. “No. Stop asking that.”
He puts his hands up. “Okay. Just give me a heads-up when it happens, man. Don’t ambush me at Christmas in front of the family.”
I want to argue with him that he brought all of this on himself, but if it’ll make peace to tell him privately if and when Stella is pregnant, it’s a small ask.
“I’ll do that.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Stella
* * *
“We’ll need to figure out phone sex,” I tell Ben as I unload silverware from my dishwasher into the drawer. “And I can drive to Minneapolis when you have games there.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds as he dries water droplets off of a wine glass with a dish towel. “If we want to have a long-distance relationship, we’ll make it work.”
I furrow my brow, his use of the word “if” throwing me. “That’s how it has to be. I’m in the middle of remodeling the house and I’m just starting my own business. I can’t just uproot my life and move to Denver.”
He meets my gaze. “You could.”
