Runaway Bride’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #1)

17. Stella

17

stella

I don’t know if I would call this the best day of my life, but it’s definitely the best day I’ve had in years. And I’m purposely not trying to count back to the last good day because that makes me think about people I’d rather not.

Because right now, I just want to think about Emmett.

I didn’t think anything could beat yesterday—he went shopping with me and even carried my bags. And he didn’t complain once, or make a snarky comment, about a pair of shoes I bought. In fact, he even said I should get the taupe ones instead of the black. That earned him a blow job last night.

But today? Today wipes the floor with yesterday.

It started with breakfast in bed, which was much needed after the most intense morning sex of my life. I thought morning sex was supposed to be slow and lazy. Nope. I was seeing stars. Literally. At some point I ended up with my head hanging off the bed as Emmett drove into me.

How I had the energy to go parasailing this afternoon I’ll never know, but any amount of tired I was feeling was quickly washed away the second I felt the wind blow through my hair. Sailing over the Gulf, the crystal blue water beneath me, and the white beaches around us, was something I’ll always remember. And doing it with Emmett, who had the most genuine smile and laugh during the excursion, was the perfect cherry on top.

We got lunch at a spot on the water before being beach bums the rest of the day. I worked on my tan while Emmett sat and read his book. It was also during this time I realized I’m very turned on by men who read.

Or maybe it’s just because of Emmett. Because I’m pretty sure he could be mopping a floor and I’d find it sexy.

Oh, what am I talking about? A man cleaning? Emmett cleaning? That’s hot as hell.

After our hours in the sun—followed by a shower I’ll never forget—we’re now sitting at dinner at the best place in the world that I haven’t eaten at in years because of the Douche Who Will Not Be Named.

Chili’s.

Don’t laugh. It slaps.

“You never cease to amaze me, Stella Banks.”

I raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything. Mostly because I’m savoring a mouthful of southwestern egg roll.

“You bought shoes yesterday that I’m pretty sure are a mortgage payment. I don’t know much about purses, but I’d venture to say the one you’re carrying also cost a pretty penny. But when I ask you the one place you want to go to dinner, you say Chili’s.”

I dab the corners of my mouth with a napkin. “I’m an enigma, Cap. Get used to it.”

We share a smile as I see his cell phone light up on the table. I can’t help but look at it, because I’m a nosy human. I also can’t stop myself from grabbing it, because I see the background and fall in love.

“Oh my God, I forgot you have a dog!” The golden retriever is so adorable I ignore that a girl named Maddie is texting him. Well, I don’t completely ignore. I just swallow the twinge of jealousy, because I’m not allowed to be jealous because this is just Florida fun times and by no means anything serious. “What’s its name?”

His face lights up as he takes the phone back. “That’s my girl Winnie. She’s the most golden retriever to ever exist.”

“I always wanted a dog growing up,” I say. “But we had Simon.”

I’m smiling from ear to ear as I watch Emmett do his best not to spit out the sip of beer he just took.

“Now that was a good joke.” His laugh continues as he types something in his phone before turning it around to me. “This is the photo my sister just sent me of Winnie and my nephew, Jack.”

I feel my shoulders immediately relax.

Maddie is his sister.

“Jack loves Winnie,” he continues. “He was so excited to keep her for the week. I’m about to make his day when I tell him I’m staying longer.”

He’s staying? I had wondered why he was still here, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. No, I’ll do that by myself later.

“That’s adorable,” I say, picking up my glass and taking a healthy sip of my margarita, being cool and totally nonchalant.

“Relieved?”

I look to him with wide eyes and fake confusion. “What? No. Why would I need to be relieved?”

He gives me a knowing look with an adorably cocky smile. “You don’t hide your crazy well.”

I let out a dramatic gasp. “I don’t know what you mean! I’ve hid my crazy for years! I’ve perfected my crazy hiding.”

When Emmett Collins laughs, there’s something about it that hits me in the heart. Maybe because it sounds genuine. It’s not boisterous or loud. It’s subtle, but it’s true.

Actually, that describes Emmett perfectly. The man is calm and collected. Everything he does is low key. Which makes the bigger things he does that much more meaningful. There’s something pretty great in that.

He reaches over and takes my hand, and I try not to relish in how good it feels. “Stella, you are many things. But what you aren’t is a good actress. Or calm. Your crazy is a part of you. Embrace it.”

“I disagree.” Though the smile I can feel on my face is proving his point. “I’m tame, completely sane, and an amazing actress.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

We share a smile as our main courses are dropped off—cajun pasta for me and a steak and a baked potato for him.

“If I’m being honest, none of my sisters are good actors,” I say. “No one could keep an act up for anything.”

“I still can’t believe after all these years of being friends with Simon, I never met any of the sisters other than Maeve.”

“Actually, given the age difference, it makes sense,” I say. “Maeve is closest in age to Simon. Quinn, Ainsley, and I weren’t old enough to go visit Simon alone. If we did, it was family tailgate outings. Plus, I don’t know if that town could have handled all five Banks children in one spot.”

“What’s that like?” Emmett asks. “When you’re all together?”

When I think about my siblings, I can’t help but light up from the inside. “Chaotic. Amazing. Borderline anarchy. Loving.”

I trail off, because I could go on and on. Between Simon and me, there’s an eleven-year age span, and all of us are different in our own ways. But when it comes down to it, I’d dare anyone to find a family tighter than ours.

“I can’t fathom growing up in a house with five siblings,” Emmett says. “Then again, I can’t imagine growing up in a normal house, either.”

My heart breaks for Emmett. I know he’s mentioned his childhood, which couldn’t have been further from mine. I can’t imagine growing up not knowing my father. Or in a house with a revolving door of stepfathers.

“Well I don’t know about normal. One of those children was Simon.” That comment seems to lighten the conversation. “Though I can’t be too hard on him. He might be the odd combination of middle-child antics in a firstborn body, but he’s the best. Looks out for us even when we don’t know it. Wants to fix everything because he can. Wants everyone to have everything they want. He’s pretty great like that.”

“He’s done that since college,” Emmett adds. “One time I didn’t have a ride home to Chattanooga for Christmas. He had a car. Even though it was an hour out of his way, he drove me back, no questions asked. Refused gas money. He just did it because he could. He did stuff like that all the time. But let’s not tell him we’re giving him this credit. His head is big enough as it is.”

We clink our glasses for that one. “Deal.”

We go back to our meals, which I take a second to get lost in. Cajun pasta from Chilis is my favorite, and it was out of my life too long.

Out of all the red flags I should have noticed, Duncan saying that Chili’s was trash should’ve been the biggest one.

“It’s funny you say that Simon acts like a middle child,” Emmett says, “because for years I thought Maeve was the oldest.”

“She should’ve been,” I say. “Maeve is everyone’s second mother. She has texted me every day since I’ve been here and called twice to check in on me.”

“I believe it,” Emmett says. “The first time we met in college our freshmen year, she was making sure we all drank water and took aspirin before we went to bed so we didn’t have a hangover.”

“That’s Maeve. If you look up ‘oldest daughter syndrome’ in the dictionary, Maeve’s picture is next to it. But don’t get me wrong, she had her fun before her marriage, divorce, and kiddo. But now? She’s Mother Maeve. Super successful interior designer. Mother of the Year. Family coordinator. And those are just a few of her titles.”

“What about the other two? I’ve never met Quinn or Ainsley either.”

I smile, thinking about the two middle sisters of our crew. “Quinn lives and teaches middle school in Arizona. I don’t see her as much as I’d like, but we talk all the time. She’s what we call…unfiltered. Which we love about her. She’s always been like that—she’s the friend to tell you if the jeans make you look fat—but it heightened when she moved from teaching elementary school to middle school. I’ve heard teenagers today are unhinged.”

“I can only imagine,” he says. “And Ainsley?”

“Ainsley’s the sister I’m the closest with. We shared a room growing up. We lived together when I graduated from college. We lived together until…” I trail off, but I feel a squeeze on my hand. When I look at Emmett, and his reassuring smile, I know I don’t have to finish that train of thought. “Ainsley’s the good girl of the Banks clan. Doesn’t drink. Doesn’t swear. God forbid she ever smoked or did drugs. We’re pretty sure she saw Maeve and Simon during their high school parties and decided to go the other way. Ainsley is what Mary Poppins would call, ‘practically perfect in every way.’”

Emmett puts down his fork and knife and leans a little toward me. “And what about Stella? What’s Stella’s role in the Banks family?”

“I’m the baby.” I open my mouth to say more, but I’m not sure what else to add.

“Is that it?”

I shrug. “Pretty much.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Tiger,” he says. “You have to be more than that. Actually, fuck that. You are more than that.”

I feel my cheeks heat at Emmett’s words. “When you’re the youngest of a big family, especially with three older sisters, you just want to be like them. I wanted to be fearless like Quinn. Or put together like Maeve. Or like Ainsley, the teacher’s pet, who everyone loved. I wanted Simon’s confidence. But I was just Stella. Just a bit short in everything I did. Smart, but not the smartest. Danced growing up, but was never the best. In a sorority, but never an officer. Don’t get me wrong, I had an amazing childhood and life so far. But I’ve always been just a bit behind. Majored in marketing, but couldn’t get a job so I took the job at daddy’s law firm. I didn’t leave college with a boyfriend or engagement like my friends, so I said yes to the first serious boyfriend I had, because I wanted what I saw others having. Look where that got me.”

I hate admitting that all to Emmett. Yes, he’s heard snippets, but I never put it all together. Yet, it feels good to get it all out there. Say what you want about Destin, Florida, but it has been quite therapeutic.

“Oh Tiger.” Emmett takes both my hands in his. I feel immediately better as I concentrate on the feeling of his thumbs stroking over my knuckles. “Like I said, you might not be a great actress. And you might not be what your sisters are. But you are definitely too good for that asshat, and I, for one, am glad that part of your plan didn’t work.”

“I am too,” I admit for maybe the first time. “Running away from that day was the best thing I ever did.”

“I agree. And I know it’s always hard to see yourself for what you truly are, but let me tell you what I see.” Emmett brings my hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the top of each one before he goes on.

Holy swoon…

“You’re beautiful and smart. You’re brave and bold, and yes, a little crazy.”

That last one makes me chuckle. I don’t know if anyone has ever called out my crazy but make it sound like a good thing. But if anyone could, it would be Emmett .

“I know you feel like you haven’t figured out where you fit yet. And that’s okay. You’re young. You have time. There’s no timetable for life. When you find where you fit, you’ll know, because it’ll be as easy as breathing.”

I’ve gotten a lot of advice over the years from friends and family. Mostly family. Mostly Maeve. But I’ve never felt more put at ease by words than I have right now.

“Thank you,” I say. “Sorry this got all serious.”

Emmett gives my hands a squeeze. “Don’t ever apologize for saying what you need to say. Ever.”

The waitress has perfect timing as she comes over with the bill. I try to grab it—I feel like it’s the least I can do since I forced him to stay on this vacation with me—but I’m not fast enough.

“You really think you’re paying, Tiger?” He shakes his head with a smile as he slides in a credit card. “You don’t pay. Ever.”

Don’t think ever means forever…

He didn’t mean it like that. Ever is short. Ever for us has an expiration date. Five more days and counting. In five days I go back to Nashville. In five days this vacation getaway is over. In five days Emmett and I will go back to normal—whatever that means.

Which is what I need. I need to get back to, and figure out, my life. I don’t need any extra distractions.

But what I do need right now is my nightly sweet treat.

“Yes,” Emmett says without me saying anything.

“What?”

“Yes, we’ll go get ice cream.”

My smile is huge as the waitress comes back with the receipt and we both stand from the booth. “Say what it’s really called.”

He rolls his eyes as he pulls me in to him, his hand immediately going to the small of my back. “A sweet treat.”

I can’t help but smile as the words leave his mouth. “I think you’ll like this one.”

“Oh really? What flavor tonight? ”

I raise up on my toes so I can get closer to his ear, which isn’t possible even in my three-inch wedges.

“You.”

The low groan that I feel vibrating from him sends a shiver through my body.

We have five days left, and I’m going to make every one of them count.