Page 98 of Cruel Dreams

Because when I’m happy, he’s happy, and being with him makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.

I turn my music off and wiggle the earbuds out my ears.

Sliding off the rock, I have my first hit of apprehension. I don’t know how to tell my parents I don’t want to live here, but maybe Mom already knows. She feels something is going on and is always glancing at me when she thinks I’m not looking.

Well, I think, squaring my shoulders, I’ve never been a coward.

They’re in the kitchen talking quietly over glasses of wine when I come in from the beach.

“Mom, Dad.” My heart will always hum because now I can say those words. “I have something to tell you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Zane

Stella ends up staying in Florida another month to round out her visit and to meet her grandparents, something she’d been putting off. She didn’t want to feel obligated to stay in Florida any more than she already was, but after she decided to come back to King’s Crossing, that opened her up to meeting the rest of her family. That suits, and our conversations on FaceTime are light and full of plans.

I don’t know what set off the spark, and maybe I don’t want to know. It could have been Monica, interfering even though I said it wasn’t a good idea. Maybe her therapist jiggled something during one of their sessions, or maybe even Banks said something if he called to find out how she was doing.

It doesn’t matter. Any reservations I might have had about her choice that seemed to come out of nowhere disappeared when I saw the clear, sure decision in her eyes.

We talk about her parents visiting King’s Crossing, and I assure her, whatever she needs, whenever she needs it. I understand her reluctance to talk about money—she’s alwaysbeen like that. I’m a little disappointed that in an effort to show me she wasn’t using me she made things harder than they had to be, but while she’d been looking for family, I’d been looking for a woman who wanted me and not my fortune.

We’re blessed people to have found what we’re looking for.

I don’t want Stella to have to deal with Orlando’s enormous airport and fly on a crowded plane alone, and ignoring the panic attack her flight induces, I send a jet to pick her up in St. Pete.

The closing of the country house goes through the day Stella comes home, and I wait in the yard for Douglas to pick her up at the airport and drive her to the house. Champagne is chilling in the empty kitchen, and the dust the realtor’s vehicle kicked up as she hurried back into the city is still drifting in the air.

Doubts overwhelm me. Will she like it? Will it be too big? Maybe she won’t want to share the house with Zarah or put up with the small staff required to keep a house of this size clean and running smoothly.

All these thoughts are a jumble in my brain until Douglas helps her out of the back of the limo, and then nothing is in my head except how beautiful she looks and how much I missed her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Stella

Saying goodbye to my parents is harder than I thought it would be.

They drive me to a small, private airstrip in St. Pete, and my dad pulls my suitcases out of the back of the van. I didn’t pack all my clothes, leaving most behind for later visits. The guest room turned into my bedroom after all, only, the next time I stay, I think Zane will want to come with me. We didn’t talk too much about who’s going to live where, but we did decide that if Mom and Dad moved back to Minnesota, they wouldn’t sell their condo. It’s located in a beautiful spot, and we can always use it for vacations. Though, if I know Zane, by the year’s end he’ll own the entire building. He’s been known to do that.

My dad whistles as we walk across the airstrip.

The sleek little plane looks faster than a bullet.

The pilot and a flight attendant greet me near the plane’s stairs, the humid air blowing at his tie and her hair. My dad passes my luggage to the flight attendant who stores it in theplane, and the pilot excuses himself to do the preflight check and let ATC know we’ll be departing soon.

“Mom, Dad,” I say, turning toward them, my voice trembling.

“Stella,” Mom says, wrapping me in her arms. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be just fine. I promise.”

I never used to believe people when they told me that. Usually, it meant the exact opposite—that things weren’t going to be fine, that things had the potential to turn to shit and they always did. But as the sun warms my shoulders and my mom hugs me in a grip so hard I can’t breathe, I know what she says is true.

Everything is going to be just fine.

“Keep practicing your swing,” my dad says gruffly, his voice scratchy.

I fling myself into his strong arms and sob against his chest. My mom pats my back,tskingsympathetically.

---