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Before dinner is served, we’re to make a speech welcoming the guests to the charity auction. I had already reassured Stella that I would do it, but as we take to the stage now, she puts her hand on my arm and stops me.
“Can I do the speech?” she asks.
Shocked at her about-face on the subject, I bob my head vehemently. “Yeah! Of course,” I agree, grinning.
Her return stare is watery and nervous, but when I squeeze her hands, she tightens her fingers on mine.
“You’re a beautiful, talented actress, the star of a popular reality show,” I whisper as the emcee warms up the crowd. “And you have at least three men in this world who absolutely adore you.” I relish the blush on her cheeks. “You have nothing to fear on that stage.”
She swallows visibly, squaring her shoulders and holding her head up.
“You’re right,” she concedes. “I will remember who I am.”
“I won’t let you forget it,” I vow, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
I cringe as one of the cameramen jerks in for a closeup, but I maintain my temper when I feel Stella’s fingers clasp mine.
The crowd dies down as Jasper Royce takes to the stage, providing the introductions for the charity auction, his charismatic smile shining. The host ofHeart’s Desiresnatches the microphone from its stand and paces the stage as he speaks.
“What a fantastic turnout for such a wonderful cause!” he booms as I again face Stella, determined to calm her fully before she can step on stage.
My hands smooth over her bare arms. “You are incredible,” I remind her gently. “They’re going to love you.”
She gives me a smile that is masking her nervousness. “I can do this,” she wavers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, a warm welcome for the stars of this season ofHeart’s Desire, Stella Crestwood and Gabriel Hanson!” Jasper announces from the mesa.
There’s a flood of polite applause as our cue leads us onstage, hand-in-hand. I’m so fixated on Stella, I hardly notice how full the event has become. We expected a big audience, but all I can fixate on is my beautiful co-host and how amazingly she’s handling herself, despite her earlier confessions.
As the din dies down, Stella again eyes me nervously, and I nod at her encouragingly as she takes to the podium.
“Thank you all for being here,” she rasps uneasily into the microphone.
“You’ve got this, Stella,” I whisper under my breath. “They’re all people, just like you and me.”
She inhales, collecting herself, and tries again. A slow, flustered smile touches her lovely face, but as she begins to speak, her shoulders relax.
“Ever since I was a little girl, I knew that I wasn’t like the other kids,” she begins, her tone surer this time, but that’s because she’s holding my gaze. “I was incredibly jumpy at loud noises. Crowds terrified me. My mother used to tell me that she couldn’t take me grocery shopping because World War III would deploy when I heard the crash of a shopping cart.”
She pauses and licks her lips. “Of course, I grew older and learned to deal with the scary noises better, but that knot of anxiety remained in the recesses of my gut, never quite leaving. It was not until I was in my late teens that I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder.”
I’m just as stunned by this revelation as the rest of the room, but I hide my surprise much better.
“I learned early to keep it from others. No one wants to be brought down at a party or listen to the depressing girl at a sleepover. My own mother was convinced if I just got more sleep or ate more vegetables, I’d ‘get over it.’”
She flashes her perfect teeth to the crowd. “I’m not faulting my mom. She did the best with what she knew at the time, but that’s why these foundations are so important. They create awareness where there is none. It helps scared little girls who just think they’re weird and born wrong. It opens doors that we didn’t even know existed. I could be your daughter, your sister, your mother. Almost twenty percent of all Americans suffer from some form of anxiety, and these people exist in every avenue of life, from the kindergarten teacher instructing your children to your favorite reality show stars, entertaining you on Thursday evening. And that’s just one of the many underfunded areas of mental health. Please, consider this when you’re bidding tonight. Open your minds along with your wallets and make mental health awareness commonplace for everyone. Thank you.”
The audience begins to cheer as I gaze at Stella with stars in my eyes, helping her off the stage while Jasper retakes his position.
“Wow! And I thought you were nervous on stage!” I sputter as we descend the steps to take our place at the table reserved for us.
She titters, allowing me to hold back her chair for her before gracefully sitting. “Was I okay?”
“You were amazing, Heartbreaker,” I tell her, taking my own place across from her. “I mean it.”
Her eyes shine with pleasure. “Thank you.”
A server slips by the table to fill our wine glasses, and I sit back, still reeling from the impassioned speech that Stella had given on stage.
