Mending (3 page)

He turned to look at her, his green flecks blazing. "I'm so fucking mad at you."

"I know," she answered.

"Why did you do that to us?"

Guilt over what she'd actually done flashed in her mind and she forced it out. "I don't know,” she admitted. “Honestly, I was wrecked. Jamie's head exploded on me, George. I was traumatized. I needed to be away from everything, everyone."

"But Patrick found you."

She nodded.

"Will he always know you better than me?"

"No." She shook her head. "At least, I hope not."

George sighed and Stella ran her thumb over his bottom lip. She saw desire in his eyes; at least he still wanted her. She leaned in and kissed him. It took a few seconds for him to kiss her back, but he did. It was tender, an apology, and it turned hungry and needy. Her body was on fire; he pulled her on his lap and tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. They kissed for what seemed like hours, just kissing to kiss. His hands were under her shirt, her bra was pushed up and he was caressing her breasts in seconds, igniting a want that she'd put aside for the last few weeks.

"Take me upstairs," she whispered in his ear.

He stopped kissing and touching and gently put her back on the couch, shaking his head. "You don't get to come over here and it’s magically all better." He pushed himself off the couch and walked to the kitchen, where he poured them both a glass of red wine. He left it on the bar; she didn’t move. "You ripped out my fucking heart.” He pointed at her. “You didn't let me know you were okay. You let some other guy comfort you when you needed me. I needed to be the one that comforted you."

Stella pulled her bra and clothes back down and then looked down at her hands.

"You should've needed me, El. You fucking ran and left me. I don't know if I can get past it." George shook his head at her.

"Do you love me?" she asked softly avoiding eye contact with him.

"That's a stupid fucking question," he retorted.

"I need to hear you say it."

"I don't care what you need. You didn't care what I needed." His face showed his restraint, but she knew he was seething.

Her head snapped up and she stalked over to him in the kitchen. "All I cared about was you. I was ruined with that gunshot. Everything I'd been holding together for the last few years fell apart. I was ruined. I didn't want to be here and you see me like that. I didn't want to bring that on you. You are the love of my life, George. I will do anything to protect you, to love you."

"You don't show someone you love them by running."

"I was devastated."

"You devastated me." His voice was low and distant.

"I'm sorry." Her voice broke.

"I'm sorry too."

The edge in his voice made her skin crawl. He wasn’t going to bend on this, she could tell. She'd pushed him too far.

"Don't be sorry, George. You haven't done anything but love this broken, fucked up girl, and it was too much. I understand that. I always have." She did understand that. She knew last year that he was too good to be true, she’d just decided to enjoy him until he decided he was done loving her. That it was too hard to be with her. Stella didn’t just come with baggage, she came with an entire moving truck. Stella knew that George would come to his senses one day.

They stared at one another, fighting to not let their guard down and cling to each other.

He walked past her and sunk down on the couch, drinking his wine. "Well, I think we've said everything we can right now," he said indifferently.

He was dismissing her. He was fucking dismissing her. She gathered all her strength and stood tall. She would do this herself. She would raise this little Fucker alone, but he deserved to know.

"Okay, George. I'll leave, but always know I'll love you forever and if there is ever a moment that you could allow me back in your life, just let me know, because I’ll be there. I know I messed up, but I'm waiting. I'm not giving up on us."

"Bye, Stella." His use of her name slapped the reality of the situation across her face.

"This is so hard, George. I have to tell you one more thing. I'm so sorry." Stella stood just outside the kitchen, but the distance between them paralyzed her. Pulling all her strength together, she knew he deserved to know about the little Fucker.

"You already said that," he said.

"I'm pregnant," she said softly and looked him directly in the eyes.

His eye's pierced hers. "What!?"

"I'm pregnant.” She shook her head, her feet frozen in place. The distance between them was palpable. “They didn't think I could get pregnant and I probably won't carry it to term, but I'm 12 weeks and they said that was the hardest part, the first 12 weeks. But I made it. So, I just wanted you to know. You deserve to know."

George set his wine glass down with an audible clack and began sobbing into his hands. Stella didn't know what to do. She had no expectations, she didn’t quite plan for this part. She moved to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen." Tears dropped from her eyes and rolled down her face.

"Which part?"

"Any of it." She kissed his hair.

“But, I thought you couldn’t get pregnant,” he whispered.

“So did the doctors.” She shrugged. “Miracle baby, I guess.”

“I guess that’s what we needed. A miracle.” He looked at her, his green eyes shining from tears.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Always have.”

“Never stopped.” He kissed her gently.

Stella had felt a flood of emotions from the kiss; regret, guilt, lust, desire, relief… They stayed there, on the couch, for hours arguing, fighting and making up. George wasn’t quite ready to get back together, but he was going to try. That’s really all she’d wanted, for him to open the door just a crack for her. He deserved her working for his trust. He deserved so much more from her. A tiny light shone through her darkness and she hoped they might just be okay after all.

Chapter Three

Pasteurized Brie Is Okay, Right?

Stella left George's house after a few hours of them talking about the possibility of having a baby. He was positively giddy when she left. Stella stopped at Trader Joe's on her way to Millie's to grab dinner and a bottle of wine for Millie. She perused the cheeses, trying to figure out which one wouldn't make her throw up. Just as she bent down to grab a block of brie she felt arms wrap around her middle. She froze.

"Hey, sexy," a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

She grinned as she straightened and turned to see Billy's warm brown eyes taking her in.

He ran a hand quickly through his too long sandy blonde hair and cocked his head to the side. "You miss me?" he asked with a lopsided smirk.

"More than you know." She hugged him and tried to hold back tears. This baby was making her emotions stupid and it was annoying.

"I see you’re still living with Mil," Billy said, nodding at her basket containing two salads, a baguette and a bottle of white wine.

She nodded.

"You okay?"

She shook her head no without saying anything. She hadn't seen Billy since she'd burst through his front door on a mission to see Patrick. The mission had ended in him screaming at her and she was more than a little mortified. Never mind angry.

"Patrick seems to be getting along in Atlanta,” Billy commented with a small smile. “He's living with Jesse for a while until he gets settled."

She was silent; she didn’t know how to handle the Patrick situation. She hated that they’d left things the way that they did, with him hating her. Her heart was broken; she lost her best friend. He was still her person, even if he didn't want to be.

"I'm glad he's happy," she managed

"El…"

"No, I don't want to talk about it, Billy. I can't. I'm as heartbroken as he is."

"I doubt that," he muttered.

"Listen," she pulled him into a nook in between the cheese and the wine. "I need to tell you something."

He held his hands up in surrender. "I don't want to know anything."

"I'm pregnant."

Shock registered on Billy's face. "What?! Whoa!" Billy said, stepping back and bumping into a wine display. "Oh, shit!"

He kept backing away from her, shaking his hands like he didn't know what else to do; she'd never seen him so flustered. Then she realized what he thought. "Oh no, Billy." She looked around making sure no one was paying attention to them. "It's George's," she whispered.

Relief spread across his features immediately. It turned her stomach, but she didn't know why. She and Patrick weren't meant to be. He was already over her. What did her having George’s baby matter to Patrick?

"Well… Congratulations?" Billy speculated.

"Yeah, fucking yay!" She said sarcastically.

"I just want to say you will be the most entertaining mother
ever
." Billy grinned and pulled her into him.

"Ooooh, you stink like Fritos." She dry heaved.

He shrugged. "I had them for lunch."

"Ugh, this pregnancy nose is one of the most annoying things ever. Oh, that and the throwing up constantly. And the not drinking, the crying…"

"Wow, I'm glad you no longer live with me with all that going on." Billy grabbed a bottle of red wine. "How is George taking,” he waved his hand in front of her body, “this?"

"I just told him a few hours ago." She smiled sheepishly. "I'm still on Millie's couch."

"You haven't gotten back with George yet?" Billy shook his head. "You and Patrick are fucked. I love you both like siblings, but you're completely fucked." Billy ruffled her hair and then went to the checkout line.

She wondered what he meant about Patrick, but she didn't want to ask. She hoped Patrick was happy, that's all she wanted for him to be happy.

Stella groaned as she lay back on the couch, her back arched at the barest of tickles of George’s fingertips as they grazed her nipples. “George,” she exhaled heavily.

“Yes,” he groaned into her hair and then planted kisses behind her ear. He licked her neck down to her collarbone.

“You need to do something quickly.” She arched again, pushing her body closer to his. Her body tingled from her scalp to her newly pedicured toes. He reached down and put her right foot over his shoulder.

“Like what, Love?”

“Like something that involves you taking your clothes off.”

He kissed her ankle, then her calf, and then licked behind her knee and she almost came. He looked at her, lust evident in his eyes. “Marry me.”

“What?” She gasped. Stella couldn’t believe he was bringing this up now, when she needed him to be thinking other things.

“Marry me, mother of my unborn child.” He bit her inner thigh.

“Oh, you’re embarrassed to have a baby mama?” she asked, breathless.

“Nope,” he ran his tongue up her inner thigh until he ran into her bikini line, “I want the woman I love to marry me, like she said she would.”

“Oh, George.” Stella didn’t want him to feel pressured into being with her.

“Are you fucking serious? I’ve already done the romantic proposal, so this time I’ll tease you until you say yes.
Then
I’ll fuck you.” He nipped at her left nipple, teasing her. “So it’s up to you.”

“You don’t have to tease me at all. It was the biggest mistake of my life taking off my ring. I’ll apologize for the rest of my life.”

George’s tongue went for no mercy.

“Yes,” Stella breathed. “Yes!”

A week later, Millie drank white wine and glanced around the restaurant. Stella was furiously leafing through a wedding magazine. She closed it in a huff. "I don't have the time or the inclination to plan a motherfucking wedding." They were waiting on the wedding planner Millie had found for her.

Millie shook her head. "You're so romantic." The sarcasm dripped off her words.

"Well, it’s true. I have to work in between throwing up and trying to woo my fiancé."

"You're incapable of wooing a pile a shit, so I'm pretty sure that's how that’s going." Millie's phone buzzed. "Oh, he's voxing me." She pulled out her phone and tapped the app.