STELLA
April 27
There’s a fifty-fifty chance my father disowned me tonight. I’ve never seen him that mad, not even when I scratched his brand-new Benz after I got my driver’s license and secretly took it out for a joyride. (In my defense, that curb came out of nowhere).
But you know what the worst part is? It’s not the hurt in my mother’s eyes or the way my sister outed me. It’s not even my father kicking me out of the house.
It’s the fact that I wouldn’t have changed what I did even knowing what the outcome would be.
I’ve always been the quiet, obedient daughter. The one who did everything my parents asked, who apologized even when I didn’t need it to, and who bent over backward to make sure everyone was happy.
But every person has a limit, and I’ve reached mine.
I’m pretty sure nothing I do will be good enough for my family, so why even try? I might as well tell them the truth about how I feel. I should’ve done it a long time ago. But honestly, I don’t think I would’ve found the courage to do so tonight if Christian hadn’t been there.
It’s ironic. I didn’t want him to go, but he ended up being the best part of my night. There’s something about him…I don’t know how to explain it. But he makes me feel like I can be anyone I want to be.
Better yet, he makes me feel like I can be who I am.
Does that sound cheesy? Probably.
I cringed reading that line over just now, but it’s okay. You’re the only one who’ll ever see this anyway, and I know you won’t judge.
Actually, that describes how I feel about Christian perfectly, like he won’t judge me no matter what I say or do. And in a world where I’m constantly being judged—online and in real life—that’s the best feeling in the world.
Daily Gratitude:
Completing the first piece of my collection
The speakerphone function
Christian Early nights Christian
* * *
“Areyou packing for three days or three months?” Christian eyed my mountain of luggage with a raised brow.
“It’s Hawaii, Christian.” I wedged another swimsuit into my overstuffed suitcase. “My hair care alone takes up an entire bag. Do you know how much havoc the beach and humidity wreaks on curly hair?”
“No.” His gaze was alight with amusement.
“Exactly.” I stood to catch my breath.
My muscles ached from hours of packing. I’d put it off until the last minute, but I needed to get it done today since I left tomorrow for Delamonte’s big photoshoot in Hawaii.
I didn’t mind. Packing was a welcome distraction from the nerves swimming in my stomach and the specter of my family.
I hadn’t heard a peep from them since our dinner two weeks ago, nor had I reached out to them.
Old Stella would’ve called them the next morning, apologizing profusely and wallowing in guilt over what had happened.
Granted, I did feel guilty, but not enough to back down from the silent battle raging in the Alonso family. While I regretted hurting my parents, I was stung that they weren’t even attempting to understand where I was coming from. Plus, I was still stewing over my mother calling Maura a former employee and my father insulting Christian.
I was more surprised than anyone by how my protective instincts had surged during my father’s rant. Christian didn’t need help defending himself. I didn’t even think he’d been offended; insults bounced off him like rubber bullets off titanium.
Still, I’d hated hearing how my father spoke to him. He hadn’t deserved that.
“How are you feeling about Hawaii?” Christian asked.
He was working from home today, but he was still dressed in a suit and tie.
Typical.
“Great.” My voice came out higher than usual. “Excited.”
I wiped my palms on the outsides of my thighs and tried to calm the rapid pitter patter of my heart.
It was half true. I was excited. Hawaii was beautiful, and the photoshoot was the cornerstone of Delamonte’s new campaign. The photos would be everywhere—online, in magazines, maybe even on billboards.
I didn’t want to be a professional model, but the Hawaii campaign could do huge things for my career. I’d already made enough money from brand partnerships this past month to cover my expenses for the rest of the year; the Delamonte print campaign would skyrocket my profile even further.
But such an important shoot also came with a ton of pressure. It weighed on my shoulders and ate away at my excitement until my head spun with worst-case scenarios.
I’d gotten more comfortable posing in front of other people’s cameras since my first Delamonte shoot in New York, but Hawaii was different. Hawaii was the big one.
What if I froze and didn’t recover the way I had in New York?
What if all the photos came out horrible?
What if I got sick and couldn’t shoot or broke my leg on my way to set or something?
The brand was spending a ton of the money on the trip, and we only had three days to get it right.
If I messed it up…