Everything between us, p.17
Everything Between Us, page 17
She rolls her eyes. “Estella, a girl always needs more clothes. Especially girls who dress like they live in a yoga classroom. Come on. You used to come with me all the time, and I thought you were finally done with all this staying at home drama.”
I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth. “I’m … working on it, okay?” After last night, I know I can’t go out. I made a huge mess and broke two glasses and stumbled around like a drunken stork. I can’t feel that way again.
Her lipstick leaves a little magenta half-circle on her porcelain teacup, and she stares at it as she sets it on her saucer. “The sooner you start being normal again, the better. I want you back at Wellesley in the fall, Estella. You’re too smart to waste your life like this.”
“What if I don’t want to go back?” I was studying history, but only because I wasn’t excited about anything else.
“I don’t really care, Estella. If you don’t want to go back for the academics, think of the men. You were right there! Harvard! MIT! Snag one of those boys, and you won’t have to worry about what you’re studying.” She smirks. “That’s what I did.”
And how did that work out for you? I almost ask. “I’m not going back to Wellesley so I can ‘snag’ a husband. That’s just …” I have to trail off because I’m about to say something really insulting. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” Because I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.
“It should. Your life should matter to you, and your future should matter to you,” she snaps.
I sigh. “It does, Mom. I just need some time to figure it out.” My breathing is unsteady, and I lean against the counter, trying to slow it down.
She finishes her tea and stands up. “Fine, then. You have until the first of April, because that’s when you need to notify Wellesley of your return so we can put down the deposit for your tuition and room and board.”
“And if I decide I don’t want to go?” “You’ll be going somewhere else,” she hisses. “Your father and I may not agree on much, but he’ll back me up on this. I told you we wouldn’t tolerate you living like a recluse under our roof, rotting away and spending your days making cookies like some idiot child!”
I step back like she’s slapped me. The oven timer goes off, but it sounds so distant, like it’s happening in another country, another world, one where I can do what I enjoy and not feel ashamed of it. “I have rights, and you can’t just commit me. That’s straight out of the last century, Mom,” I say, my voice trembling. It’s not that I’m scared—it hurts, to know she dislikes me this much.
Her eyes narrow. “You’d be surprised what I can do. Get yourself back on track. End of story.”
She stalks out of the room, leaving me with the beeping of the timer. By the time I pull myself together and remove the cookies from the oven, they’re way too crisp, dark brown at the edges. I set them on the stovetop and sink to the floor.
And of course, because the parade of pathetic just has to go on, that’s where Daniel finds me when he walks in a few minutes later. He curses and strides over to me, kneeling behind me. “Your housekeeper said you were in here. Are—are you having a—”
“No,” I whisper, then pull myself to my feet, keeping my back to him. I walk down the hall toward the enclosed porch, hearing his footsteps behind me. There are voices coming from the library, and I look over to see the door open.
“Caleb is here. Romy came with him,” Daniel says, then chuckles. “I think he wanted to make extra-sure your mom didn’t make a pass at him.”
I grit my teeth. “A wise move.” My feet carry me to the glass wall of windows, where I look out at the snow covered hills of the back lawn, veiled a moment later by Daniel’s reflection.
“Did you guys have a fight?”
“Sort of,” I whisper, wrapping my arms over my middle and bowing my head. “I’m all wrong, I want the wrong things, I do the wrong things, and I’m basically a huge disappointment to her. My sister is a lawyer. Did Mom tell you that? She’s engaged to some politician’s son.”
“And that’s what your mom wants for you.”
“Who can blame her? Shouldn’t I want those things? I was raised to want those things.”
“Is it that you don’t want them, or that you feel like you can’t have them?” he asks.
I blink, and the view becomes swimmy and unfocused. “I don’t know.”
He sighs. “I came here to talk to you.”
“You sound like you’ve changed your mind.” And I can’t blame him.
He’s quiet for a moment, and it’s too much. Suddenly, I want to leave and go far away, but I have nowhere to run, not really. I’m totally trapped, though right now I don’t feel panicked. Instead I just feel defeated. I draw a shuddery breath and raise my head. We stare at each other in the window, and his reflection is too beautiful to be real and fills me with so much want. I lay my palm flat on the glass, over the heart of his reflected self.
He lays his hand over mine, and his arm circles my waist. Our fingers overlap, and he pushes, like we could move straight through the glass together. He steps up close behind me. “I can’t stay away from you, Stella,” he says, his voice rough in my ear, making me shiver. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you. I want to be, though.”
My free hand rises to his face, needing to feel his skin beneath my fingertips. “That’s exactly how I feel.” And it’s killing me, because I want to be the best thing that ever happened to him, but instead, I’m like a dead weight, pulling him down.
He shifts his fingers and pulls my hand off the glass, folding it over my body so that I’m cocooned in his embrace. “I would regret it if I walked away from this without trying.”
“But that’s what you should do,” I say, my voice breaking.
He stiffens. “That’s not the impression I got last night. You said—”
“I know what I said. But last night was the reason why you should walk away, Daniel.” I turn, and his hands move to my waist. “You saw what it’s like for me.” My throat is so tight, thinking of how he found me on that bathroom floor. He practically ripped the door off its hinges to get to me. That’s how badly I scared him. “You’d resent me. It wouldn’t even take that long.”
“Sometimes,” he says, his voice hard, “you seem to know me so well. Better than anyone. And sometimes, it’s like you’re completely blind.”
I can’t look at him, so I stare at the hollow of his throat, at his pulse ticking beneath his skin. “What do you want, Daniel?”
“I want you to join me out in the world, because I’d like it better if you were with me.”
“I can’t—”
“You can try. I’ll help you.”
“Are you insane?” I push on his chest, and he lets me go. “I completely humiliated myself last night. I wanted to die, just so it would stop. And you, what? You think I should simply get over it and go out on a date with you?”
He shakes his head. “I know it’s not that easy. But you don’t have to stay like this. I’ve been talking to—”
I put up my hands. “Stop. You talked to my mom about this? Because you sound just like her.” His mouth snaps shut. “Did she pay you for this, too?” I squeak. “Is that what this is?”
He stares at me for a moment, his blue eyes like chips of ice. “You really believe that’s how I’d do this? After everything we’ve gone through, you think I’m here because your mom paid me.”
I scoot away from him, all my bitterness leaking out. “Isn’t that the reason you do things, Daniel? I saw you last night, in your element. You looked pretty comfortable.”
He takes a step toward me. “You’re lashing out because you’re scared, Stella. You can’t fool me.”
I backtrack, nearly toppling over a chair near the table. “I don’t need to fool you. We can be honest with each other, right? I went last night to tell you all about how I feel. But you know what I’ve realized? It doesn’t matter. Because I am how I am, and that alone should be enough to send you running in the other direction.”
His eyes flash. “And do you see me running? Did you see me running last night, right toward you? Did you see me tanking my prospects by acting like a drunken shithead, just to make things easier for you?”
I cover my face with my hands. “Yes, I saw it all, Daniel, and I’m so grateful, and it felt wonderful that you cared enough to do that. But it won’t last, because you’ll get sick of it. And I would get sick of it, too. I don’t want you to rescue me! It makes me feel pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic,” he growls. “And stop telling me how I would feel.”
“It took my roommate at Wellesley three months to decide she’d had enough,” I say quietly. “She was sympathetic at first, too, but I wore her down. Now she wants nothing to do with me. I left school two months ago, and no one has written or called. Because I wore them down, too.” I turn away and lean on the table, my fingers spread pale over the dark wood. “I wear everyone down. And I don’t think I could bear it if I did that to you.”
“So you’re not even willing to try?” He sounds like I’ve kicked him in the stomach, and I look over my shoulder to see his expression twisted with anger and pain. “I’m not worth a chance, Stella?”
“What? That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“Then what are you saying?” he asks quietly. “Because it sounds like you’re not going to give me a chance, because you’ve already decided how this ends. It sounds like you’re saying I’m not worth the risk.”
“I’m saying I’m not worth it!” I shout.
He reaches me in two strides and takes my face in his hands. “You have no idea what you’re worth to me.” His lips collide with mine as he wraps a steely arm around my waist, crushing me against him. His taste, the rough feel of him, the way his tongue plunges into my mouth, it melts me in an instant, shatters my misery for one brief moment, makes me forget where I am and why I would ever push him away. It’s so fierce that there’s no way around it, no way to defeat it, no way to hold it back. He fists his hand in the hair at the back of my neck, and I couldn’t escape this kiss if I wanted to. It goes on and on, until my fingers are clawed against his back, until my tongue thrusts into his mouth, until he’s hard against me and all I want is to pull our clothes off so there’s nothing between us.
My world is spinning when he breaks our kiss and presses his forehead to mine. “This is up to you,” he says between breaths, his eyes closed. “I can’t make you want me, and I can’t make you want to get better. But if you did want those things, I’m here. It has to be both, though.”
I look up at him. “What do you mean?”
He lets me go and steps back. “You’re too good to let this beat you, Stella. And I can’t sit by and watch your world get smaller. I care about you too much.”
I wipe my bruised lips with the back of my hand, confusion tossing all of my thoughts, sending them bouncing around my brain. “So we’re back to ‘just get over it’? I thought we’d already established that I can’t!”
“That’s not what I’m saying—”
“God! Why, Daniel? Why did you kiss me? Are you trying to make this harder? I went out last night for you, yes, but you saw what happened. And now you’re saying I can’t be with you unless I get over this.” My arms flap uselessly at my sides, frustration roaring through me. “Leave, then. Because I can’t get over it. Don’t you think I would have, if I could?”
“That’s exactly what he thinks,” says a voice from the hallway. Romy walks into the room, looking back and forth between me and Daniel. He gives her a nervous glance as she sits on the arm of the chaise. “He knows you’re already doing everything you know to do.”
I let out a breath. “Then why didn’t you say that?” I ask him.
His lip curls with exasperation. “I was trying, but you were too busy busting my balls to listen.”
“Did you know there are treatments for what you have?” asks Romy. “Really good ones.”
“I’m not going to take drugs.” I say this to Daniel, because surely he’s seen the pharmacy inside my mom’s medicine cabinet? “I don’t even want to start down that road. My mom offered to take me to her psychiatrist, but—”
“Drugs sometimes keep this particular therapy from working as well.” Romy is so matter-of-fact, just like she was last night. It’s both reassuring and intimidating. “They might help you feel better in the moment, but they can keep you from doing what you need to do.”
“And what do I need to do?” I can’t help the edge in my voice. I’m so tired of people telling me how to get better.
Romy tilts her head. “I think that’s a discussion best had with a therapist. But I will tell you this, Stella. Two to three months. You could be better. No drugs if you don’t want them.”
I squint at her. “How do you know?”
She shrugs. “I have some really good professors, and a really good therapist.”
Hope sparks inside me. “You—you have this, too? You get panic attacks?”
“No, but I’ve had other issues.” She gets up and walks toward me, past Daniel, who moves aside for her. “And I know I’m worth helping.” She touches my arm. “I don’t know you, Stella. I don’t know what you think of yourself, or how brave or cowardly you think you are. But I know Daniel, and I know you’re special to him. So I think you’re worth helping. You have to want it, though, because it takes work.”
“Of course I want it,” I whisper. “I’d change if I could. But I can’t.”
“I’m not going to argue with you,” she says gently. “I know you’re saying that because you’ve tried really hard, and you’ve felt defeated every time, and that’s exhausting.”
Tears start in my eyes before I can stop them. “That’s exactly what it is. I’m so tired.”
Her fingers tighten on my arm. “I know. And it’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to suffer like this. I saw how much it hurt you last night. I saw how much you wanted it to be different.”
“I just wanted to be there like a normal person,” I rasp, sniffling. “I just wanted to …” I glance at Daniel and look away quickly.
“I know you did. You should get to have that. And you can, Stella. If you do this kind of therapy, if you really do it, it will help. You’ll be able to do the things you want, and you’ll be in control of it.”
“How can you say that?”
She smiles. “I’d be a pretty lousy therapist if I didn’t believe therapy helped.” She squeezes my arm and leans in, getting on her tiptoes. “And it would be worth it,” she whispers, very quietly. “Daniel is worth it.”
“I know,” I say automatically. That isn’t a question. It hasn’t been for a while. But is she right? Two or three months? That’s all it takes? It sounds way too easy, like a trick.
My mom’s high, ringing laughter floats through the house, coming from the library. Romy looks toward the hallway. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I need to save my boyfriend from your mom.”
I snort. “No, I think that’s a good idea.”
She pulls a card from her pocket and hands it to me. “That’s my therapist. Her name is Heather. She’s really nice.” She turns on her heel and walks out of the room.
I blink after her. “What just happened?”
Daniel chuckles. “She’s the one I was talking to, not your mom.” He joins me by the table and brushes a tear from my cheek. I swipe at the rest impatiently. I’m tired of panic, tired of crying, tired of trying to live in my own skin.
“Come here,” he says in my ear, all the edge gone.
He gathers me into his arms, and I tuck my face into his neck and close my eyes. We fit perfectly together, and I relax into him. “I’m sorry for what I said,” I say quietly. “You were amazing last night, and I feel so bad that I ruined it for you.”
He rubs my back. “Are you joking? You made my night. I was missing you so badly, and then there you were. I kept imagining what you’d say if you were standing there next to me.”
I wrap my arms around his waist. “Really? What did you imagine?”
His chest trembles. “That you would tell me they were marbles and nothing more.”
“Were they meant to be something else? Did they have deeper meaning?”
He lets out a huff of laughter. “No. They just made me happy.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
His arms tighten around me. “I’m starting to wonder if it is.” I raise my head and his lips brush mine. I want to make you happy, I think. I glance at the therapist’s card on the table and then back at Daniel, his blue eyes bright and focused on me. Could I reach for this? Should I give it another try? If it meant I could have him, and be good for him, and belong in his world, would it be worth the chance that I’d crash and burn?
As we stand there, together, his body against mine, his heart beating against my chest, I know the answer. Yes.
Chapter Nineteen: Daniel
Liza follows me to my car as I leave. Romy and Caleb left a half an hour ago, but by that time Stella and I were sketching away in the enclosed porch, looking like we’d never been doing anything else. Mostly. Stella’s lips were swollen and lush from my kisses, but I don’t think Liza notices much about her daughter. She probably wouldn’t be keen on me spending so much time with Stella if she did.
I figured I’d given myself a soft exit after my antics last night, but as Liza puts her hands on my waist, I realize she’s not done with me. “Hey,” I say, turning around with my keys in my hand. “What’s up?”
“I think you have some apologizing to do,” Liza says, all pouty. Oh no.
My gaze flicks toward the windows of the mansion. I don’t want Stella to see this. I hate that she’s seen me and Liza together, that she has to think about it, and I don’t want her to doubt me now. But I have to do this carefully. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drink that much.”
“I think you need to apologize on your knees,” she adds, grinding herself against me. “Can you come back tonight?”
