Everything Between Us (21 page)

“Sure thing.”

“But I need another favor first,” I say. “Be my designated driver?”

His eyebrows rise.

“Unfortunately, I’m very drunk.” I start to stumble down the hallway, leaning against the wall.

Caleb chuckles. “I’m here for you, man.”

I smile as I near the gallery space and snag two full glasses of wine from a tray near the doorway. “I know. And I’m grateful.”

Still grinning, I chug one and spill a few ounces of the other down the front of my shirt, then stagger into the gallery space, ready to put on the show of my life.

Chapter Eighteen: Stella

My head is pounding. I tried to sleep late, but this hangover is vicious. I’ve already had one panic attack today, and I’m scared I’m going to have another. I blame the alcohol. I thought it would relax me and help me get through the gallery opening, but somehow, it did the opposite. But really, nothing could have saved me last night. I probably would have humiliated myself no matter what.

When I came out of the bathroom with Romy, Daniel was hanging on my mom. He was laughing loud and tugging her earrings playfully, and I remember from childhood that that happens to drive her nuts. She kept slapping at his hands. He seemed completely drunk, but when I walked into the gallery, clinging to Romy’s arm, his eyes lasered to me, his gaze keen and assessing. I gave him as much of a smile as I could muster, and he turned his attention back to my mom.

About thirty minutes later, we were on our way home, and my mom’s stony silence was absolutely deafening. He was right—she was so mad at him that she didn’t even notice I was wearing a different shade of lipstick than I walked in with, and that I was no longer wearing mascara. She didn’t notice that my dress was a little torn at the hem and that some of the beads were dangling by their tiny silver threads. Daniel saved me.

That should feel good. But it only makes me feel more pathetic. I don’t want to need saving. I want to be okay. I wanted to go there and be in his world and keep up with him. He was so kind, so protective, so understanding last night. But how would it be if he had to deal with that all the time? I would be the sandpaper that wore his patience away second by second. I would rub him raw, and then he would be like my mom. Like everyone I knew at Wellesley. Sick of it. Annoyed by it.

“Knock, knock,” says my mom as she comes into the kitchen, but today it’s not singsong. She looks tired and sad. “What are you making?” she asks me, looking at the mixing bowl I’m cradling.

I look down at it. “Cookies.”

She gives me a weak smile. “Will you share?” She sits down at the kitchen island and waves for Willa to bring her tea.

“Of course, Mom. Are you okay?”

She sniffs. “I’m fine. Daniel called this morning to apologize. He said he missed some lessons with you last week, too, and wanted to come over today and do a make-up session with you, since I’ve already paid him.”

My heart beats a little faster. “Oh … how do you feel about that? You looked pretty mad at him last night.”

“Daniel is easy to forgive,” she purrs, suddenly perking up—and making my stomach drop. “He said he’d be over at eleven. Will that work for you?”

I hold up a spoonful of batter. “I should have this batch done by then.”

She accepts the hot tea from Willa and murmurs her thanks. “Caleb McCallum is coming over to look at the library space at the same time, so I’ll be meeting with him.”

I wonder if Daniel planned that, for my mom to be busy so he could talk to me alone. From what little I saw last night, Caleb and Romy were really looking out for him. He has good friends, and that makes sense. He deserves them. With a pang, I think of the crushed friendships I left behind at Wellesley. It would be nice to have a friend again. I used to be a good friend, I think, before I couldn’t even deal with myself. I wish I had one now, because I’d talk to her about Daniel, and how he was perfect last night. Even though he said he had no idea how to help, he helped tremendously. Even though he probably thought I was sad and pathetic, he didn’t make me feel that way. And I’m so grateful, and so sorry that I acted that way, and he’s coming here to talk to me and I won’t know what to say. If I had a friend, I’d ask her what she would do, because I could use some advice. I look across the kitchen at my mother and wish I could talk to her about it, but this isn’t something I can share with her, since she’s probably having her own thoughts about how to get close to Daniel.

I make my cookies—oatmeal with chocolate chunks—and chat with my mother about shallow things while they bake. She asks me if I want to go shopping early next week, and my heart lurches. “Mom, I don’t think I need any more clothes.”

She rolls her eyes. “Estella, a girl always needs more clothes. Especially girls who dress like they live in a yoga classroom. Come on. You used to come with me all the time, and I thought you were finally done with all this staying at home drama.”

I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth. “I’m … working on it, okay?” After last night, I
know
I can’t go out. I made a huge mess and broke two glasses and stumbled around like a drunken stork. I can’t feel that way again.

Her lipstick leaves a little magenta half-circle on her porcelain teacup, and she stares at it as she sets it on her saucer. “The sooner you start being normal again, the better. I want you back at Wellesley in the fall, Estella. You’re too smart to waste your life like this.”

“What if I don’t
want
to go back?” I was studying history, but only because I wasn’t excited about anything else.

“I don’t really care, Estella. If you don’t want to go back for the academics, think of the men. You were right there! Harvard! MIT! Snag one of those boys, and you won’t have to worry about what you’re studying.” She smirks. “That’s what I did.”

And how did that work out for you?
I almost ask. “I’m not going back to Wellesley so I can ‘snag’ a husband. That’s just …” I have to trail off because I’m about to say something really insulting. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” Because I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.

“It should. Your life should matter to you, and your future should matter to you,” she snaps.

I sigh. “It does, Mom. I just need some time to figure it out.” My breathing is unsteady, and I lean against the counter, trying to slow it down.

She finishes her tea and stands up. “Fine, then. You have until the first of April, because that’s when you need to notify Wellesley of your return so we can put down the deposit for your tuition and room and board.”

“And if I decide I don’t want to go?” “You’ll be going somewhere else,” she hisses. “Your father and I may not agree on much, but he’ll back me up on this. I told you we wouldn’t tolerate you living like a recluse under our roof, rotting away and spending your days making cookies like some idiot child!”

I step back like she’s slapped me. The oven timer goes off, but it sounds so distant, like it’s happening in another country, another world, one where I can do what I enjoy and not feel ashamed of it. “I have rights, and you can’t just commit me. That’s straight out of the last century, Mom,” I say, my voice trembling. It’s not that I’m scared—it hurts, to know she dislikes me this much.

Her eyes narrow. “You’d be surprised what I can do. Get yourself back on track. End of story.”

She stalks out of the room, leaving me with the beeping of the timer. By the time I pull myself together and remove the cookies from the oven, they’re way too crisp, dark brown at the edges. I set them on the stovetop and sink to the floor.

And of course, because the parade of pathetic just has to go on, that’s where Daniel finds me when he walks in a few minutes later. He curses and strides over to me, kneeling behind me. “Your housekeeper said you were in here. Are—are you having a—”

“No,” I whisper, then pull myself to my feet, keeping my back to him. I walk down the hall toward the enclosed porch, hearing his footsteps behind me. There are voices coming from the library, and I look over to see the door open.

“Caleb is here. Romy came with him,” Daniel says, then chuckles. “I think he wanted to make extra-sure your mom didn’t make a pass at him.”

I grit my teeth. “A wise move.” My feet carry me to the glass wall of windows, where I look out at the snow covered hills of the back lawn, veiled a moment later by Daniel’s reflection.

“Did you guys have a fight?”

“Sort of,” I whisper, wrapping my arms over my middle and bowing my head. “I’m all wrong, I want the wrong things, I do the wrong things, and I’m basically a huge disappointment to her. My sister is a lawyer. Did Mom tell you that? She’s engaged to some politician’s son.”

“And that’s what your mom wants for you.”

“Who can blame her? Shouldn’t I want those things? I was raised to want those things.”

“Is it that you don’t want them, or that you feel like you can’t have them?” he asks.

I blink, and the view becomes swimmy and unfocused. “I don’t know.”

He sighs. “I came here to talk to you.”

“You sound like you’ve changed your mind.” And I can’t blame him.

He’s quiet for a moment, and it’s too much. Suddenly, I want to leave and go far away, but I have nowhere to run, not really. I’m totally trapped, though right now I don’t feel panicked. Instead I just feel defeated. I draw a shuddery breath and raise my head. We stare at each other in the window, and his reflection is too beautiful to be real and fills me with so much want. I lay my palm flat on the glass, over the heart of his reflected self.

He lays his hand over mine, and his arm circles my waist. Our fingers overlap, and he pushes, like we could move straight through the glass together. He steps up close behind me. “I can’t stay away from you, Stella,” he says, his voice rough in my ear, making me shiver. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you. I want to be, though.”

My free hand rises to his face, needing to feel his skin beneath my fingertips. “That’s exactly how I feel.” And it’s killing me, because I want to be the best thing that ever happened to him, but instead, I’m like a dead weight, pulling him down.

He shifts his fingers and pulls my hand off the glass, folding it over my body so that I’m cocooned in his embrace. “I would regret it if I walked away from this without trying.”

“But that’s what you should do,” I say, my voice breaking.

He stiffens. “That’s not the impression I got last night. You said—”

“I know what I said. But last night was the reason why you should walk away, Daniel.” I turn, and his hands move to my waist. “You saw what it’s like for me.” My throat is so tight, thinking of how he found me on that bathroom floor. He practically ripped the door off its hinges to get to me. That’s how badly I scared him. “You’d resent me. It wouldn’t even take that long.”

“Sometimes,” he says, his voice hard, “you seem to know me so well. Better than anyone. And sometimes, it’s like you’re completely blind.”

I can’t look at him, so I stare at the hollow of his throat, at his pulse ticking beneath his skin. “What do you want, Daniel?”

“I want you to join me out in the world, because I’d like it better if you were with me.”

“I can’t—”

“You can try. I’ll help you.”

“Are you insane?” I push on his chest, and he lets me go. “I completely humiliated myself last night. I wanted to die, just so it would stop. And you, what? You think I should simply get over it and go out on a date with you?”

He shakes his head. “I know it’s not that easy. But you don’t have to stay like this. I’ve been talking to—”

I put up my hands. “Stop. You talked to my
mom
about this? Because you sound just like her.” His mouth snaps shut. “Did she pay you for this, too?” I squeak. “Is that what this is?”

He stares at me for a moment, his blue eyes like chips of ice. “You really believe that’s how I’d do this? After everything we’ve gone through, you think I’m here because your mom paid me.”

I scoot away from him, all my bitterness leaking out. “Isn’t that the reason you do things, Daniel? I saw you last night, in your element. You looked pretty comfortable.”

He takes a step toward me. “You’re lashing out because you’re scared, Stella. You can’t fool me.”

I backtrack, nearly toppling over a chair near the table. “I don’t need to fool you. We can be honest with each other, right? I went last night to tell you all about how I
feel
. But you know what I’ve realized? It doesn’t matter. Because I am how I am, and that alone should be enough to send you running in the other direction.”

His eyes flash. “And do you see me running? Did you see me running last night, right
toward
you? Did you see me tanking my prospects by acting like a drunken shithead, just to make things easier for you?”

I cover my face with my hands. “Yes, I saw it all, Daniel, and I’m so grateful, and it felt wonderful that you cared enough to do that. But it won’t last, because you’ll get sick of it. And I would get sick of it, too. I don’t want you to rescue me! It makes me feel pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” he growls. “And stop telling me how I would feel.”

“It took my roommate at Wellesley three months to decide she’d had enough,” I say quietly. “She was sympathetic at first, too, but I wore her down. Now she wants nothing to do with me. I left school two months ago, and
no one
has written or called. Because I wore them down, too.” I turn away and lean on the table, my fingers spread pale over the dark wood. “I wear everyone down. And I don’t think I could bear it if I did that to you.”

“So you’re not even willing to try?” He sounds like I’ve kicked him in the stomach, and I look over my shoulder to see his expression twisted with anger and pain. “I’m not worth a chance, Stella?”

“What? That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“Then what are you saying?” he asks quietly. “Because it sounds like you’re not going to give me a chance, because you’ve already decided how this ends. It sounds like you’re saying I’m not worth the risk.”

“I’m saying
I’m
not worth it!” I shout.

He reaches me in two strides and takes my face in his hands. “You have no idea what you’re worth to me.” His lips collide with mine as he wraps a steely arm around my waist, crushing me against him. His taste, the rough feel of him, the way his tongue plunges into my mouth, it melts me in an instant, shatters my misery for one brief moment, makes me forget where I am and why I would ever push him away. It’s so fierce that there’s no way around it, no way to defeat it, no way to hold it back. He fists his hand in the hair at the back of my neck, and I couldn’t escape this kiss if I wanted to. It goes on and on, until my fingers are clawed against his back, until my tongue thrusts into his mouth, until he’s hard against me and all I want is to pull our clothes off so there’s nothing between us.