Page 70 of Dream House
I watch, and she does just that. I’m grinning like a fool when Lark frowns at me over his shoulder. “Keep up your end of the bargain, Mouton. Bubble bath—”
“Mani-pedi. Online shopping,” I finish. “Yeah, I’m going.”
And I do, but I can’t shake the feeling I’m walking away from the hottest thing that’s ever happened in this kitchen.
ChapterTwelve
LARK
On Monday,I wake up hard. Thinking about Stella. For the fourth morning in a row.
It takes more than one billion years and 725,000 pounds of pressure to turn carbon atoms into a diamond. I turned Salon Stella into Soft Stella in thirty minutes just by applying a little heat to some meat and vegetables.
I know a one-carat rough diamond can fetch four hundred dollars from the right buyer. But when Stella sauntered back into the kitchen, wrapped up in that white robe I spotted on her bed, all flushed and dewy-eyed from her bath, smelling like Sweet Olive and woman?
Priceless.
The best part? The last few days, even when she’s dressed to the nines, rushing out the door or coming in with an armful of groceries, full-on Salon Stella, and she clocks me? I catch a glimpse of that softness in her prehnite green eyes.
Maybe waking up in this state is a bad sign, but at least my landlady and I are in a better place than the day I moved in. I wouldn’t go so far as to say she’d call me her friend, but we’re allies. And from what I’ve seen, Stella Mouton is a person anyone would be lucky to have in their corner.
The woman takes care of everyone in her world.
And not in the brow-beating, prying way Mom does. Or the spatula-wielding, bossy way Maggie does. Stella added us all to a GroupMe and texts us when she’s going to the store, asking if we need anything. I’ve heard her checking in with Nina more than once to find out when she’s leaving for work and when she’ll be home. I’m not certain, but I think it’s to make sure Nina’s never in the house by herself.
Which is rare since Pen is here most days. And Tyler’s here nearly all the time.
But she looks after Livy too, just not as overtly.
Yesterday, Stella made French toast for breakfast. And when Livy exclaimed that it was her favorite, Stella just smiled a sly smile as if she already knew.
And I don’t know if Livy has noticed it yet—it’s small—but on the bumper of Stella’s Accord, there’s a new sticker. Two hands. One white and one brown with their pinkies clasped. Between their hands are the words,We see you. We hear you. We stand with you.
Yeah, Stella’s an ally to everyone. If she isn’t their outright savior.
On Thursday when I drove Nina home, she told me that she thinks Stella made up the whole free breakfast thing just to help her out. I can see that.
And once you see that about a person, you can’t unsee it.
So maybe Soft Stella is really there all the time.
I’m still lying in bed thinking of her softness when my phone buzzes.
Maggie: This afternoon still good?
Me: Yeah, 4ish if that works for you. I’ll watch the runts.
Yesterday, Nina gave me the go-ahead to reach out to Maggie for some advice. Her asshole ex keeps sending his friends into the restaurant. They’re not getting ugly, but every time they go in, they try to talk Nina into going back to him.
It sucks.
The restaurant is closed on Mondays, so today works. And if this is how I get my sister-in-law to start talking to me again after the crewcut catastrophe, I’ll consider it a win.
My phone buzzes again. I blink to refocus on the words.
Maggie: Please tell me you’re not sleeping with this girl.
“What?!”
