Western Waves (Compass 3)

She smiled, and my gosh, I wanted to kiss that smile and melt into her lips.

“Good,” she said, taking a sip of her cocoa. “Because I feel safe with you.”

Beat, beat, heart, heart.

“Oh! I was thinking! We should do Secret Santa!” she said, reaching around to a bowl on the side table beside her. “I actually put our names into a bowl so we can pull names.”

I laughed. “There’s only two of us.”

“Yes, but it’s still part of the fun of Secret Santa—pulling names.”

“Okay.” I smirked, reached into the bowl, and picked up a piece of paper. I unfolded it and read my own name. “Damian.”

Stella’s nose scrunched up, and she grabbed the piece of paper from my hand. “No, no. Pick again.”

I laughed and did as she said. As I was about to read her name out loud, she tossed her hands up in the air. “No! Don’t tell me who you got! It’s a secret!” she remarked.

“I adore you.” I chuckled.

Her brown eyes widened from my words. I’d been doing too much of that lately. Speaking without thought.

“Sorry,” I muttered, growing a bit self-conscious of my confession.

“No, no. Don’t be. You just… you say things to me that people have never said before.”

“Like what?”

“Like that. Or you call me memorizing. Or astonishing. Or remarkable. No one has ever used those words to describe me.”

I grimaced. That upset me. “I’m sorry no one has ever told you the truth before, Stella. You are all those things and more.”

Her cheeks rose and blushed over as shyness discovered her. “Thank you, husband.”

“Welcome, wife.”

The more time we spent together, the more we learned about one another. We traded our favorite holiday memories. One of hers was going skiing in Colorado with Maple, and one of mine was when I spent Christmas with a foster family, and they got a new puppy. We didn’t only talk about the happy memories. We explored the sad ones, too. One night after yet another romantic comedy, she shared her struggles with an eating disorder that landed her in the hospital.

“After that, Kevin made sure to eat three meals a day with me, even after I moved out. He’d take lunch breaks just to make sure I was okay,” Stella explained. “It took a long time, but I came around.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you’re comfortable in your own skin now.”

She shrugged. “It’s a daily struggle. For example, when I broke things off with

Jeff, he called me a few names. He commented about my weight, and those small voices came back. The ‘skip breakfast’ voices and the ‘maybe no carbs this week’ whispers. It’s an everyday battle.”

“I hate him,” I told her.

“Me too,” she agreed. “But still, I hate those parts of me that still believe him.”

“I don’t say this to flatter you or make you feel better, Stella, but simply because it’s true.” I shifted against the couch and turned to her. “You are the most stunning woman I have ever come across. From the top of your head to the soles of your feet, you are breathtaking. Add that with your personality, and well… there’s no one more beautiful.”

Her shyness returned, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I’m not used to being called beautiful.”

“Okay,” I agreed, “then I’ll do it more often.”

She smiled and shook her head. “It’s just funny. Jeff was so concerned about how you looked at me. He said it was as if you stared at me as if I were—”

“The sun,” I finished.

Her eyes widened a bit, surprised. “Yes, like the sun.”

“Well”—I shrugged—“I supposed he was just as good as reading me as I was at reading him.”

24

Stella

* * *

The conversations with Damian grew in ways I couldn’t even believe. It was amazing to see where we begun and how far we’d come with our connection in just about two months’ time. Our living room confessions when we watched a Christmas movie were becoming my favorite part of each evening.

“Your photography is amazing,” I told him as he finally showed me some of his work.

He grimaced and shrugged. “It’s just a hobby.”

“It’s too good to be a hobby.” I sat up a bit on the couch. “You should do a gallery show like I did.”

He laughed. “It’s not that good, Cinderstella.”

“But it is,” I disagreed. As I flipped through his photos, I was blown away by how powerful they were. It was as if he captured his subjects more than ever before. “You’re amazing, Damian. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“I’ve seen Kevin’s work. He’s better.”

“No.” I shook my head. “He’s just different. I can’t explain it, but when I look at your work, it makes me want to cry because it’s so breathtaking.”

A small curve of bashfulness hit his lips. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Make me a promise?”