Page 33 of So Wrong It's Right

I can’t take it. I have a manic urge to yell the things she won’t yell. Say the things she won’t say. She can’t retreat behind that wall, or I won’t ever see her again. The real Stella. And that is suddenly a tragedy.

The back door is rattling behind me, and I’m thrust back into the memory of the first time I held Stella in this very room. I was trying to keep her from falling. Now I’m scrambling and reaching for her and grabbing her, because dammit, if I’m going to fall, she damn well better join me.

Chapter Thirteen

Stella

Christopher is kissingme, and I am drowning.

I don’t want to kiss him back but tell that to my lips.

I don’t understand what game he is playing. I told myself after he left last night that I needed to play it cool. That we were a pretend couple. That we could have sex because sex was fun, but that it didn’t mean anything. A fast, fun fling.

I’m not looking for more. I don’t want or need a deeper connection. I’m fine about sex with no strings.

So naturally, I thought this morning would be fun. Flirty.

And then he plunged his ice-cold knife into my still-beating heart. Froze me. Humiliated me. And now he’s kissing me, clutching me like he did last night.

Carlita clears her throat and we pull away. How long has she been standing there? I come back into my body slowly and become aware of the heat in my face, of the paperclip box in my hand. The mulling spice of his aftershave is on my skin, in my nose. Permeating my fuzzy thoughts.

Carlita. Of course.

He knew Carlita was coming in, so he kissed me. It’s part of the act. Our ruse to keep me from being embarrassed.

And I fell for it because I am a special kind of stupid.

“I apologize,” he says, and pivots and stalks out of the room.

Carlita sends me a knowing look, and I have to pretend to be embarrassed that we got caught. It’s not that hard. I am embarrassed.

If there is a way to make a situation worse, more awkward, then I will find it. In this instance, I realize that despite everything I know about myself and the ornery vet pretending to be my boyfriend, I didn’t protect my heart. I’m halfway into the Year of Stella, and I have failed at the only thing I set out to do.

At least he’s as screwed up as I am.

At lunch, he comes into the break room and stops with an exaggerated pause. “What is all this?”

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