Page 54 of Fa-La La-La Land
Bit long for an adage, but fair enough. I asked her to wait until we’re back in LA before posting anything, to keep the rest of the trip quiet.
By the time we get back to Stagno, it’s late, and Stella still hasn’t had gelato. We only have one day left, so I surprise her with what I’ve planned for Florence—a day packed with private tours of art museums and cathedrals and, most importantly, many stops for gelato. Being famous has its perks: private tours mean no waiting in queues. Derek insists on tagging along for security, which isn’t a perk of celebrity.
Derek hovering in our shadows doesn’t keep Stella from enjoying every stitch of art in the Uffizi Gallery or the Accademia. I like the art too, but the most beautiful thing I lay eyes on is Stella. She asks our guides a million questions and talks non-stop, but I don’t hear most of it. Her chestnut eyes shine, and I have a hard time looking at anything else.
We get gelato twice—once before the museums and again as we cross the Ponte Vecchio at sunset. We’re both shivering from the cold, but it’s worth it.
In the middle of the bridge, Stella loops her arms aroundmy neck, presses close, and whispers, “Feels like a good time to stop the world, don’t you think?”
I kiss her long enough that she just might forget time exists. If nothing else, I hope it’s the perfect ending to a perfect day for her.
It is for me.
Chapter Eighteen
Stella
As if spending three days in Italy withRhys Jameswasn’t surreal enough, now I’m sitting at the Garden of Eatin’ in Paradise, Liam Dexter across from me in full PDA mode with his wife, my cousin Britta. Archie Forsythe is on Dex’s other side, Piper Quinn next to him, and then Frankie Forsythe. When Britta and Dex announced they’d be making a quick trip to Paradise for the holiday, everyone else decided to come, too. To Paradise…Idaho.
Oh, and Rhys James is on my right with his hand on my knee.
My cousin Adam owns the Garden of Eatin’, and my entire family is here, seated at one long table, waiting to eat. My brother Seb, his wife Hope, and their daughter Charly; all my Thomsen cousins with their spouses; Mom, Grandma and Grandpa Sparks, Uncle Pete.
I have a very big imagination. But this—right here, Thanksgiving with my entire family and the cast ofSurf City High? I never dreamed it. Never came close. For the first time in my life, I think it’s possible for reality to be betterthan fantasy.
Adam and Bear have done most of the cooking, and the smell of homemade rolls, mashed potatoes, and sausage stuffing wafts through the air. This is a Paradise Thanksgiving, though, so the menu includes elk and deer meat, wild turkey, and even goose.
And did I mention, the guests include the entire cast ofSurf City High? Rhys James is dragging his thumb across my pinkie right now, igniting an electric storm in my chest.
The whole thing is so unbelievable that I pinch Rhys.
“Ow! What was that for?” He rubs his arm.
“I wanted to make sure this isn’t a dream.”
“You’re meant to pinch yourself,” he mutters, but under the table he twines his fingers through mine. With a quick glance to make sure no one’s watching, he leans close and whispers, “Could kiss you if you need proof.”
I shake my head. “Then I’d know for sure it’s a dream.”
Rhys lets out a quiet laugh. “Do we really have to pretend you’re not mad about me while we’re here?”
“Of course not!” Mom, who has supersonic hearing, answers for me. “Stella’s always been mad for you. Everyone knows that. She used to kiss your poster every night. Did she tell you that?”
“Ma!” I yelp as everyone laughs, including Rhys.
“I might’ve heard something about that,” he says.
“What?” I smack his arm in the same spot I pinched him. “Can you please stop talking about embarrassing things I did when I was thirteen, Mamma?”
My face doesn’t cool until Rhys swings his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his chest. My first instinct is to resist since we’re still not public. But now that the word is out with my family, there’s no point in pretending I don’t want him to hold me every second he’s close, even if number one on my list flashes in my brain every time I melt intohim.
“I’ve been mad about Stella since the first time I laid eyes on her, so I reckon the feeling’s mutual,” he says, making my pulse flutter.
“Second time,” I mutter. “You’ve been mad about me since thesecondtime you laid eyes on me.”
He breaks into a smile. “Only ’cause I was too thick to get it right the first time.” Rhys kisses my forehead.
“That we can agree on.”
