Page 104 of Mixed Signals
I shrug. “It’s been a month. That’s what we agreed to.”
Stella shuffles forward and makes herself cozy on the shelf at my side. She tries to fluff a bag of sugar like a pillow and all she gets is a slow leak of it onto the floor. It feels very symbolic of the current state of things. She huffs and tries to fix the hole, but only makes it worse. I drag a bowl over with my foot and drop it under the leak. I’ll fix it later.
“Is that why you’re in here eating contraband cookies and candy?”
“They’re not contraband,” I mutter. “They’re mine. Fairly obtained within legal measures.”
“Okay. Good to know. But … Caleb?”
I sigh and pick at some crumbs left on the sleeve of my shirt. “Am I a hypocrite?”
Stella, bless her, doesn’t so much as trip on the abrupt shift in conversation. “Layla, you are one of the rare few that leads with an open heart. No, you are not a hypocrite.”
Except it doesn’t feel like my heart is very open. As soon as I got a hint of something real with Caleb, my open heart felt more like a locked safe at the bottom of the ocean.
Surrounded by landmines.
And man-eating sharks.
“I feel like I’ve been waiting forever for love to find me. I’ve put myself out there—over and over and over. I went out with a guy once that guessed my weight the entire way to the restaurant. I even said yes to a second date with him.” I yank another piece of licorice out of the bag. “I’m used to watching the hands of the clock move and I didn’t even realize my month with Caleb was up. I think—I think I forgot it was an arrangement.”
Stella fishes around in my bag for a piece of licorice for herself. “And Caleb wanted to keep it within the predetermined limits?”
I shake my head.
It’s been the most honest—the most real thing—I’ve ever felt.
“No, he didn’t. That’s the hypocrite part. I feel so stupid,” I say. Stella hands me a small throw pillow she digs out of … somewhere. I clutch it close to my chest. “All I’ve ever wanted is a good relationship, and the second I find one, I sabotage it.”
“Awareness is half the battle,” Stella murmurs, fingers pushing some of my hair behind my ear.
“Why did I sabotage it?”
“Because you are afraid,” she says quietly, blue eyes warm. In the warm glow of the twinkle lights strung over metal beams, she looks like a snow angel. Something you’d find in a snow globe. “And because you’ve dated a string of terrible men that have left you battered and bruised. It’s okay to be afraid when your heart gets involved.”
“I think I like him too much,” I whisper.
Stella hums.
“How can I trust my heart on this? Every time I think I’m making a good choice, it ends in flames. Flames doused in gasoline. My heart has never once pointed me in the right direction. All of these relationships that have failed, all of these false starts, I feel like they’ve been chipping away at me. I’ve only got slivers left, Stella. And I’m afraid if I give them to Caleb—” My voice snaps off at the thought of it. I don’t think there’d be anything left of me.
Better just to be disappointed now than later. It’s safer this way. Easier.
Stella keeps quiet, munching thoughtfully on a shortbread cookie I must have missed.
“How many slivers do you have left?”
“What?”
“Your slivers.” She gestures at my chest, right where my heart is. “How many do you think you have left?”
I blink at her. “I don’t know if I can quantify how many are left.”
“Think about it.”
“I am.”
“Well, think harder.”
