Page 140 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

“When she woke up,” Mariana began. “Like really woke for longer than a few minutes—I told her. But her memory of those first few months after waking up is fragmented. It’s all a blur to her. Emma doesn’t remember our conversation, or any others from that time.”

Mariana’s youthful face was turning haggard. “That was before I realized how badly she was hurt. All I knew was that she was awake and seemed alert. But Emma could barely speak or move. She couldn’t even eat without help. Hell, she had to relearnhow to walk.”

He’d guessed some of this after reading her medical records but hadn’t understood the full extent. “And you decided not to tell her again when she remembered?”

It wasn’t meant as recrimination, but his words pissed off Mariana nonetheless.

“You weren’t there!” she cried. “You don’t know how hard it was. For both of us. Emma had to work so hard to get just a sliver of her life back. It tookyearsfor her to get to the point where she could take care of herself again. Emma had enough to worry about. So did I, taking care of Stella.”

She shot to her feet, beginning to pace the short length of the kitchen.

“I apologize,” he said after a long minute. “I didn’t mean to imply that you did anything wrong. Far from it. You did everything right.”

He gestured for her to sit back down. She did, but not before taking a detour to get a few beers out of the fridge.

Mariana slid one in front of him, but he didn’t open it. His stomach would have rebelled.

“You could have given Stella up,” he said after a long silence. “No one would have blamed you.”

“I thought about it,” she admitted, wiping her eyes. “But I couldn’t do it. For a long while Stella was all I had. Emma had woken up, but it took so long for her to come back to herself.”

Her voice broke. “You have no idea how hard she had to fight.”

No, he didn’t.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For keeping them safe.”

“Oh.” Mariana sniffed, straightening. “Well, they’re my family. You don’t have to thank me.”

“Someone should.”

Her laugh was sudden and a bit manic. Mariana clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the disturbing sound.

“Why Stella?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“The name Stella. Why did you choose it?”

“Oh. Because of Stanley.”

Garrett looked at her blankly.

“Stanley, the doctor,” she reminded him. “He and I spoke often when Em was in her coma. He told me once that he was named after the Brando character inA Streetcar Named Desire.”

Garrett snorted. “His mother named him afterthatStanley?”

“I hadn’t seen the movie at the time, but he told me a little about it—he even imitated that one scene, pretending to rip his shirt off.” She shrugged. “I liked the name Stella.”

Under the circumstances, it could have been worse. The doctor’s mother could have been aGone with the Windfan. He couldn’t imagine saddling his child with the name Scarlett.

He’d known more than one stripper who went by that name, back in his partying days.

“Stella is a good name. I can live with Stella.”

Mariana stilled. “What do you mean by live with?”

“What do you think I mean?” He pointed up at the ceiling. “That’s my kid up there. Not to mention the fact that through some trick of fate, I am now married to her mother.”

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