Tension blooms in my chest, but I adopt a neutral tone as I push for her to explain. “You did?”
“Yes.” She looks up at me. “You were right. I don’t know what I was doing with that stupid plan my mom came up with. I didn’t want any of it.”
And just like that, I’ve finally accomplished the thing I set out to. Out of all my projects, Stella has been the only one I could ever say was a success. She opened her eyes, and now she’s ready to walk her own path. It’s what I’ve been working toward for the entirety of my career at Loyola. I kept telling myself that once I reached this goal, I would be satisfied. As if I would magically feel better about Katie’s death and she would be proud of me. But when I look at Stella and remember the hell I’ve put her through, I know I’m dead wrong about that. Katie would be disgusted by the person I’ve become.
“So that’s it?” My voice is too rough for my own liking. “You aren’t going to Cornell. What will you do then?”
And do those plans include me?That’s the question I can’t bring myself to ask. I told Stella she doesn’t love me, and deep down, a part of me still wishes she didn’t. I’m the worst possible thing for her. In the end, it’s inevitable that I will fail her, just as I failed Katie.
“I know it might sound crazy,” she answers, oblivious to the current war raging on in my mind. “But I think I want to do photography.”
“It’s not crazy if that’s what you want.”
She looks at me as if she doesn’t quite believe me. As if it can’t be that easy, and why should it? I’ve given her a hard time about everything else.
“You really think so?” she asks.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t think so. You love photography. I think it’s the appropriate choice to pursue.”
“But what if it’s a mistake?” She frowns. “What if years from now, I’m broke and miserable, wishing I had gone to Cornell?”
“Nothing in life is certain,” I tell her. “Except that we all have limited time. You should make the most of it while you’re here. You only get one chance, Stella. Don’t make decisions based on fear. Go after what you want and don’t look back.”
“That’s the most passionate speech I’ve ever heard you give.” Her lips tilt up into a beautiful smile. “And a little hypocritical, I might add.”
I knew that was coming, and I don’t deny it.
“What would make you happy?” She turns the question around on me.
For once, I don’t know how to answer to that. Any real chance at happiness died the day Katie did too. After that, I didn’t feel like I deserved to be alive, let alone happy. And for the past five years, I’ve done a damn good job reminding myself of that. But as I consider Stella’s question, I know what would make me happy, and it’s so simple it’s terrifying. My second chance is sitting right in front of me.
“Remind me again why we aren’t having sex right now,” I say.
“Wet paint.” Stella points to her lips with a mischievous smile. “Do you want to be the kind of man who ruins my lipstick?”
I drag her into my lap and force her to arch back as I bite at her throat. “If I’m not, then I’m not doing my job properly.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
STELLA
FOR FIVE BLISSFUL DAYS,Sebastian and I live in our own little bubble where nothing else can touch us. We wake up, have sex, eat breakfast, and then repeat. In the afternoons, we’ve taken to lying by the fire and napping, which I can’t seem to get enough of lately.
Sebastian asks me several times if I’m okay, but I assure him it’s just the school year catching up with me. I’m exhausted, but I’m content.
On Christmas morning, he surprises me with a gift, and I feel like an asshole because I have nothing for him. When I tell him so, he doesn’t look like he cares in the least.
“Your pussy is my gift,” he says crudely. “And I’ll be enjoying it several times today. Now open it.”
I take the box from him and gently pry off the lid to find a white gold bar necklace with an engraving that couldn’t be more fitting from Sebastian.Ownedis scrawled across the back in elegant calligraphy font.It’s beautiful, and it looks like it cost more than any other piece of jewelry I’ve ever worn.
“Wear it always,” he commands in a gravelly voice. “And remember who you belong to.”
The attention whore in me claps gleefully as I hand it over to him. “Can you help me put it on?”
He secures the chain around my neck and brushes my hair to the side before his lips are on me. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” I whisper.And you.“Thank you.”