Flying (18 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I need to grab a drink.” Matthew shaded his eyes against the sun, looking out over the tents and stages set up all along the Riverwalk. “Will you be okay here?”

Stella nodded, relaxing in the sunshine. The breeze off the water was brisk and would’ve been too chilly without the fierce overhead burn. She was glad for the sweater she’d tied around her waist but didn’t need right now. “Nope. I’m good. I’ll wait here for you. Enjoy the music.”

It wasn’t her sort of music, actually. The Riverwalk was featuring some kind of indie rock festival along with charity and business booths, as well as carnival-type foods like corn dogs and fried dough. But it had been hard finding this spot on one of the benches, and she didn’t want to give it up.

Matthew gave her a quick kiss and headed off into the crowd, where she lost sight of him after a minute or so. Stella stretched her legs, nodding along with the music and watching the people come and go. Five minutes passed. Then another five, and though she searched for him, she couldn’t find Matthew. She tapped out a quick text to him, then checked her emails, her Connex page, read a few of the blogs she liked to follow. Still no Matthew, and no reply to her text either.

When almost half an hour had passed, she got up from the bench, squinting into the brightness to see if she could catch a glimpse of his red-and-black plaid shirt. Still nothing. She checked her phone to see if she’d missed his reply, but nothing had come through.

For a moment, the pancakes she’d stuffed herself with an hour or so before threatened to make a reappearance. What if something had happened to him? It was unlikely in the middle of a music festival, in broad daylight, but...

Stella’s high school friend Denise’s mother, Rosemarie, had epilepsy. Growing up, Stella had spent many nights sleeping over at Denise’s house, many hours hanging out in her rec room watching MTV and playing board games. She’d seen Rosemarie have several seizures, all of them scary, even though her family treated them pretty matter-of-factly. But one thing had always stood out in her mind, not something she’d seen but a story Denise had told her about how once Rosemarie had experienced a seizure while shopping at the local mall alone. She’d been seizure-free for several years by that point, able to drive on her own. She’d gone out looking for some new curtains and hadn’t come home for close to six hours, because after having the seizure she’d been unable to tell the EMTs who she was, and someone had been shitty enough to steal her purse while she lay fallen.

What if something like that had happened to Matthew? How would she know? Pacing, Stella kept her phone in her hand, sending another text that was quite a bit less casual than the first had been.

WHERE ARE YOU?

She saw him then, cutting through the crowd with a look of determination on his face that scared her only a little less than how long it had taken him to return. He saw her looking for him and headed for her. He had an empty water bottle in his hand, which he tossed into a garbage can as he passed it.

“Are you okay?” she cried. “I was getting really worried.”

Matthew looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry. I—”

She was so relieved, she hugged him. Hard. He hugged her back, after a few seconds. Stella pulled away to look into his face.

“I texted you, and when you didn’t answer—”

“Oh. Shit. I didn’t hear it. I’m sorry, Stella. I ran into someone and couldn’t get away.”

She stepped back at that. “You were gone almost forty-five minutes. You didn’t think I might be worried? You could’ve texted me. I’d have come to meet you.”

His expression told her that would not have been an option.

Stella’s shoulders straightened. Her jaw tightened. “You could’ve texted me to tell me you were caught up. At least answered my texts to let me know you were all right.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. At least he looked sorry. “I told you, I didn’t hear my phone.”

As if on cue, his phone chirruped with a truly obnoxious ring tone. Stella looked at his pocket. Matthew pulled out his phone and swiped the screen to check the message. She waited, eyebrows raised, for him to say something, but all he did was put his phone back in his pocket.

“You didn’t hear my text,” she said.

Matthew looked guilty. “I... Your number... It connects to an app on my phone. I don’t always have it set to notifications, so I missed your messages. You’re right, I should’ve texted, but I was... It would’ve been noticeable if I whipped out my phone and started texting. It would’ve been hard to explain.”

“An app?” That would explain why he had a Nevada phone number but lived in Chicago. The rest of it didn’t take much more figuring out either. “It was your ex, wasn’t it?”

“We’re all still on the same phone plan. It was complicated for her to set up her own, and we have shared minutes and I keep meaning to get her on her own plan, but I just haven’t yet.”

“And you don’t want her seeing that you’re calling or texting me. Because she checks that sort of thing?”

His face said it all. Stella blew out a long, irritated breath. She forced herself to take a few more steps away from him, untying her sweater and shrugging into it, because now the wind was starting to give her the chills. Or maybe it was her anger. She hadn’t been here more than four hours, and she was already calculating if she could make it back to the airport and catch a flight home.

“Hey. Hey, Stella. Don’t.” Matthew took her by the upper arm, turning her to face him. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“I understand if you didn’t want to parade me around in front of her, but it’s incredibly rude of you to leave me here for all that time without even a message. I’m your guest, Matthew. If nothing else, I’m that.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, but she didn’t care. Let him get defensive. She was pissed off, and not afraid to tell him.

“No. I didn’t want to parade you around, as you put it. Caroline had the girls, and it would’ve been ugly. That’s all. Not just for them, but for you too. I didn’t want to subject you to that. When you meet them,” Matthew said, “I don’t want it to be at random, okay? Is that hard to understand?”

Stella’s lip curled a little. “Oh, no, it’s crystal clear. I understand it just fine. But the point you seem to be missing is that I don’t care if you ran into your ex-wife. You could’ve run into your fifth-grade schoolteacher, your priest, your chiropractor or the guy who cleans your lobby. I don’t care who it was. You left me. Sitting. For forty-five minutes. Without telling me where you were. I thought something had happened to you.”

She shook her head, crossing her arms to keep herself from pacing or making more of a scene than she already was.

“You’re right.” He softened, reaching for her. “Shit, Stella. I’m really sorry.”

She softened too. She let him pull her close, though she didn’t offer her mouth for a kiss. He looked sorry. He sounded sorry. The wary part of her still wanted to go home, but the other part, that darker, greedy part, had not yet had her fill of him.

“You want to get out of here?” Matthew didn’t look over his shoulder as though he were being pursued, but that was the vibe she got from him.

Stella, who’d lost her taste for sitting in the sun, nodded. “Sure.”

In the car, he didn’t turn on the ignition. He sat staring straight ahead for a minute or so while Stella waited for him to speak. She wasn’t going to pry it out of him, whatever it was.

Finally Matthew turned to her. “The divorce has been really hard on her.”

Stella said nothing.

“It’s hard on everyone,” he added. “I’m sure you know what it’s like.”

“Yes,” she said warily. “But I don’t still share a cell phone plan with my ex-husband. Nor would I ever have to hide from him who I’m texting or calling or visiting, quite frankly.”

“What about your son?” Matthew said sharply. “Would you just randomly introduce him to strangers, just because you’re...”

She waited for him to finish, thinking that if he said “fucking them,” she’d get out of the car and go home, even if she had to leave her bag behind.

“My girls are young,” Matthew said instead. “And I haven’t dated anyone since the divorce. Caroline hasn’t either. I guess neither of us wants to be the first one to bring anyone around.”

“But you are divorced, right? I mean, it’s official. Papers signed and everything?”

“Yes.” He shrugged.

“And she didn’t want it?”

“No,” Matthew said, looking surprised. “She’s the one who asked for it.”

Stella sat back in her seat, arms crossed. This relationship was too new for this sort of drama. This relationship, she reminded herself, wasn’t even a relationship, really.

“I’m sorry, Stella. Really sorry. I’ve been a dick.”

“Yes. You have,” she said, then turned toward him. “Look. I’m not interested in swooping in on your life and wreaking havoc, okay? We all have our own shit to shovel. I understand how you’d want to be careful with your girls. I’m not so clear on why you’re still tied to the ex-wife so that you have to act like you’re cheating on her.”

He looked startled at that. Then a flush of guilt. Maybe he’d cheated on his wife, maybe that was why she’d asked him for a divorce. Stella wasn’t about to get into it.

“I don’t need to rub her nose in anything. And she would check the bill to see if I was texting strange numbers. She’s done it before. And then she freaks out. I just don’t need the hassle. That’s all.”

Stella sighed and rubbed at the swelling headache pressing behind her eyes. “I think you should take me back to the airport. I’ll grab a hotel room—”

“No!” Matthew reached for her. “Shit, Stella. Don’t do that. Can’t I make it up to you? I feel like shit. Really.”

She eyed him, trying to gauge his sincerity. Matthew hadn’t yet impressed her as the sort of guy who’d run roughshod over her in pursuit of what he wanted, but he did have that charm she’d found so many men knew they could use to get their own way.

It was against her better judgment, but she smiled a little. “You’re going to have to work for it.”

“Okay. I can do that.” Matthew grinned.

“Work hard. Realllllly hard.”

Matthew sat up straight, giving her a firm nod. “As hard as I have to. In fact, I’m kind of semihard right now.”

“Bad. You’re very bad, you know that?” Stella shook her head.

Matthew leaned in to offer his mouth for a kiss she didn’t give him right away. “Yeah. I know.”

Stella let him kiss her.

* * *

“I’m stuffed.” With a groan, Stella dropped onto Matthew’s couch. “I don’t know where you put all that food. Do you have a hollow leg, or what?”

He’d taken her to the movies, then shopping and to the Skydeck in Willis Tower. Then finally out to dinner. It had been a whirlwind of a day, cram-packed with all the sorts of touristy things she imagined he thought she wanted to do, and they’d been fun. But what she really wanted was to spend time with him. Maybe he was trying to impress her. Maybe he was trying to fend off any more possible awkwardness by keeping them both busy until they collapsed.

At least Caroline had left him alone. Mostly. A couple of bland texts Stella hadn’t asked to see, but Matthew had felt compelled to share with her.

She eyed him now as he poured himself a nice measure of whiskey.

“You want?” Matthew held up his glass.

“No, thanks.”

“I have wine.”

“I couldn’t,” Stella said. “I’ll explode. Seriously.”

Matthew, glass in hand, joined her on the couch in a swift, graceful motion, so smooth the liquor didn’t even slosh. “I don’t want you to explode.”

Watching his gaze light up and travel over her, Stella felt an answering pull of heat. After the debacle at the Riverwalk and the discussion in the car, he’d been lovely to her all day. Holding her hand. Nuzzling her occasionally. Pulling her close for random hugs. But he hadn’t looked at her like this until just now, and it was what she’d been waiting for since he’d pushed her up against the car in the parking garage and plundered her mouth.

When she kissed him, she tasted whiskey. Smoky. It reminded her of fall. When she sucked his tongue gently, Matthew gave a soft moan. Stella moved onto his lap, taking his face in her hands to kiss him harder.

“Gonna spill your whiskey,” she mouthed against his lips. “You better drink it.”

Matthew moved the glass between them, eyeing her over the rim. Watching his tongue swipe his mouth, Stella shifted to press herself against him. Her clit pulsed when he drank and swallowed; he offered her the glass and she sipped. Shuddered at the burn.

Matthew laughed and drained the glass, then reached behind him to put it on the sofa table. His hands found her hips. His lips, her lips. The kiss deepened, tongues searching. He put a hand on the small of her back to press her to him, and in minutes they were both grinding against each other.

Stella broke the kiss with a gasp. “Matthew...”

“Yes.” He didn’t let her say another word, capturing all her sighs with his mouth and breathing them back into her. He rocked his hardness against her, and it felt so good Stella forgot what she meant to say, if anything.

Maybe she just liked the taste of his name.

Somehow she got a hand between them and undid his belt, his zipper and button, to free him. The head of his cock pushed free of the denim and his briefs, and she pressed her palm to its heat. His hands had moved beneath her dress, his thumb finding her clit through the soft fabric of her leggings. He stroked her once, twice, until she shuddered.

“Feels good,” she whispered.

He looked into her eyes. “I want to make you feel good. I want to watch you come.”

“I,” Stella said, sitting upright, “would love for you to watch me come.”

“I can feel your heat. And right here...” He stroked her clit again. “You’re hard. I can feel it. Fuck, that turns me on.”

Her muscles leaped as he touched her. Stella let her head fall back for a second with a moan. “That feels so good. Just like that.”

Stroke. Stroke. Back and forth, the pressure almost so light it shouldn’t even have registered, yet drove her crazy for just that reason. Stella wanted to writhe from it, to whimper. She kept herself still only so she didn’t wiggle herself right off his lap, but she curled her fingers in the front of his shirt.