Minor Adjustments (17 page)

With Devon’s kiss fresh on her lips, Stella somehow managed to find her room and crawl into bed. She snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes, but sleep never came. The kiss, however, came again and again, thumping around in her head like a ball in a pinball machine.

Why had Devon kissed her? Had something changed? Was he too tired to think straight? Would the morning bring a day of awkwardness where they pretended nothing had happened, or would he kiss her again?

And again.

And again.

Yeah, that would be nice.

When the sun finally peeked through the windows, Stella threw on some clothes and left the house. She needed groceries as well as some fresh air. At some point, she’d have to face Devon again, and she wanted an apron and a skillet to hide behind when he appeared. Especially if he intended to pretend like nothing had happened.

An hour later, Stella returned, laden with grocery sacks. She stumbled into the house and ran into a wet-haired Devon, looking refreshed and handsome as ever. Stella frowned. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good—not when she had bags under her bloodshot eyes. She started past him, only to be halted by his hand on her arm.

“Let me help with those.” Devon bent and kissed her cheek before taking the bags from her.

He’d kissed her again. In broad daylight with his senses intact. Or at least she hoped they were intact.

Devon set the groceries on the table, then reached for her hand and tugged her to him. “Ryan’s in the shower, so we only have a few minutes.”

“A few minutes for what?”

“For this.” He kissed her again, this time on the lips. “I’ve decided to take your advice. For the next two days, I’m going to pretend like nothing is wrong and not worry about our future.”

It was like Stella’s head was stuffed with cotton. This had to be a dream. Either that or she’d gone mad and had fantasized an imaginary world. If so, forget therapy. She liked being delusional.

“Our future?” she repeated.

“Yeah. It’s something we need to talk about, but not until we get back to Sydney. In the meantime, I plan to kiss you as much as I want—unless, of course, you have a problem with it.”

“No.” Stella shook her head. “No problem.” Delusional or not, she’d enjoy it while it lasted.

“Dad!” Ryan’s voice echoed down the hall. “The water is cold!”

Stella smiled. “I guess that means my shower will have to wait.”

“Afraid so. I’ve learned to shower before Ryan. He won’t come out until the water runs cold.”

“You could have told me that last night, you know.”

“Sorry. I guess I had other things on my mind.” He winked.

After breakfast they packed a lunch, grabbed some beach towels, and walked the half mile to the beach. There they played, built sand castles, tossed a football, and picnicked on the sand. On a day like today, it was easy for Stella to forget about the trial and what life would be like after Byron Bay.

“I see Ryan made a new friend,” Stella said when Devon plopped down beside her. Ryan dug in the sand several yards away next to a blond-haired boy. They looked to be about the same age.

“Yeah. He’s here with his mom.” Devon pointed to a woman who was reading on the other side of the boys. “They’ve decided to dig a tunnel, but I’ll be shocked if they actually connect at some point.”

“I’m glad Ryan found a playmate. It looks like they’re having fun.” Stella’s toes played with the warm, happy sand. At least it looked happy. As did the ocean, the sky, and the landscape. Everything seemed happy to her that day.

Rolling to his side, Devon said, “I still can’t believe this is where you grew up—a half a mile away from all this. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to leave here.”

“I know what you mean.” A light, happy breeze tickled her face.

“So is the surfboard in the garage yours?”

“Yeah. I’m no professional, but growing up here, how could I not learn to surf? My dad was a wonderful teacher.”

“Why didn’t we bring it with us?”

“Oh, I can surf anytime. Right now, I’d rather hang out with you and Ryan.”

“There’s always tomorrow.”

“I’ll feel the same way then too.”

“Come on,” Devon said. “I want to see you surf.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I don’t think you really can,” he teased.

Stella smiled. “You think a dare is going to get me to surf? What are we, teenagers? You need to start spending more time with adults, and I’m not talking about your siblings—they don’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re almost as bad as you are.”

“I’m telling them you said that.”

“See? There you go again,” Stella said. “Honestly, how old are you?”

“You’re asking to get dunked, you know.” Devon moved toward her.

“You dunk me and it’s Vegemite sandwiches for dinner.”

“I’m a big boy. I can make my own dinner.” He lunged, grabbed her arm, and swung her over his shoulder.

Her legs kicked and her fists beat against his back. “Let me go!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ryan, save me!”

But Ryan only giggled.

Moments later, Devon dove into a wave, taking her with him. Salty water forced its way up her nose and into the back of her throat. She coughed and gasped until Devon grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“You are in so much trouble,” she spluttered. Cupping her hands, she hurled a small wave of water in his face.

He splashed back before his arms caught her and pulled her close.

“I’ll save you, Stella!” Ryan yelled as he ran toward them.

“Some knight in shining armor you are,” Stella called back. “You’re a little late.”

Devon scooped up Ryan, and they played and splashed until salt stung Ryan’s eyes and he wanted to go play in the sand again.

“Do you want to help make the tunnel?” Ryan tugged on Stella’s and Devon’s hands.

“Sure,” said Devon. “But only if Stella helps.”

“I’ll help.” They spent the remainder of the afternoon connecting tunnels and soaking up the warmth of the sun.

Later that night, Stella rummaged through the fridge and grocery bags, pulling out ingredients to make spaghetti Bolognese. While the pasta boiled, she browned the beef and sausage, humming quietly to herself. Hands snaked around her waist, and Stella smiled as she leaned back against Devon.

“Smells good,” he breathed into her ear.

“It’ll taste good too if you don’t distract me.”

“I wasn’t talking about the food, although that smells good too.”

Stella twisted around, and her hands traveled up his arms. “Ta. You clean up pretty good yourself.”

Devon grinned and kissed her until she giggled and pulled free.

“Stop. You’re going to make me burn dinner.”

“Okay, fine.” He released her. “What can I do to help?”

Stella nodded toward a pan with boiling water. “The noodles should be done. Would you mind testing them?”

“Sure.” He picked up a fork, fished a noodle out, and immediately flung it above her head. It ricocheted off the ceiling and landed on her forehead.

Devon’s lips twitched. “Nope. Not done yet.”

Stella glared as she picked the noodle off her face and threw it into the sink. “Once again, I’m questioning your age.”

“Everyone knows that if a noodle sticks to the ceiling, it’s done. If it doesn’t, it’s not.”

“Of all the ridiculous things,” Stella said. “Next time taste one or, at the very least, test it above your own head, will you?”

“But it looks so much better on you.”

“Dad!” Ryan’s voice carried down the hall. “It’s cold!”

“Saved by the child,” Stella muttered.

Devon brushed past her. “Yeah, I was really worried. What were you going to do? Tickle me?”

Stella scooped out a noodle and threw it at his retreating back. It stuck to his shirt. “Oh look, they must be done now.”

Devon brushed it free as his laughter echoed through the house, warming every nook and cranny.

The meat forgotten, Stella admired his broad shoulders as he walked down the hall. Giggles and squeals floated through the house as Stella’s eyes drifted shut. She felt the words as much as she heard them:
Please, God. Please let this be a taste of my future.

The aroma of burned meat wafted into her nose, and her eyes flew open. She lunged for the skillet and quickly removed it from the heat.

Hopefully God wouldn’t take “taste” literally.

The night before the scheduled hearing, the hotel room was too small and stifling for Devon. Not even Stella, when she showed up at the hotel with Chinese take-out, could make it go away. Even Ryan seemed to sense something was wrong.

“I don’t want to go to bed,” he whined.

“You don’t have to yet. Just get your pajamas on. Grandma and Grandpa will be here soon to read you a book.” His parents’ plane had landed an hour earlier.

“I don’t want a story.”

“You love stories. Especially
You Are Special
.”

“No, I don’t.”

Stella only shrugged, looking as helpless and worried as he was.

“Let’s go talk in your room for a minute.” Devon lifted Ryan and carried him to the room, where he sat on the bed with Ryan on his lap. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

Ryan frowned at the ground and folded his arms. “I don’t want to live with Justin.”

“Who said you’re going to live with him?”

“He did.”

“Justin told you that?”

Ryan nodded.

Devon wanted to rage out of the hotel, find Justin’s house, and beat him senseless. What kind of person would say that to a child? Certainly not someone who cared about Ryan or his feelings.

Devon let out a breath and pulled Ryan against him. He wanted to tell Ryan not to worry—that he’d never have to live with Justin. But what if that wasn’t true? What if Justin won?
Please, no.
“Listen to me. Justin shouldn’t have said that to you. Stella and I will do everything we can to keep you with me, okay? Aussie and I would miss you too much otherwise.”

“I wish Aussie was here.”

“I know.” Devon brushed his fingers through Ryan’s curls. “But Grandma and Grandpa are coming, and I know they’ll want to read you a bedtime story. Will you let them when they get here?”

“Okay.”

A knock on the door reverberated through their hotel room.

“They’re here!” Ryan said, running to greet them.

Lydia scooped up Ryan, and Devon hugged his father. Their presence elevated his spirits in a way nothing else could.

“Thanks for coming,” Devon said.

“You couldn’t have kept us away.” His mother patted Devon’s arm and breezed by him, carrying her grandson to the couch.

Lydia hugged Stella with her free arm and smiled. “It’s wonderful to see you again, my dear.”

“It’s great to see you both,” said Stella.

Burying Ryan in her arms, Lydia sat on the couch. “You’ve been gone for a long time, so you owe me lots of snuggles.”

Ryan giggled and tried to wriggle free.

“Don’t forget about
my
snuggles.” Jack said, pulling a piece of candy from his pocket. “Look, I even brought a bribe.”

“Yay!” Ryan jumped off Lydia’s lap and ran to his grandpa.

“That was a low trick, Jack, even for you.”

Jack heaved Ryan off the ground and hugged him tight. “If I have to play hardball to get some lovin’ from my grandson, then I will.”

Stella picked up her purse. “Well, it’s getting late, so I should be going.”

“I’ll take you home,” said Devon.

“No, your parents just arrived. I’ll be fine.”

“And we’ll still be here when Devon gets back,” Lydia said. “We’ll see you in the morning, Stella.”

Sighing, Stella nodded. “All right. Good night.”

When the train dropped them off near Stella’s flat, Devon threaded his fingers through hers. Their steps slowed, and he pulled her to a stop along the side of a dark and empty street. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“What?”

“Us.”

“Us?” she asked. “Right now?”

Picking up her other hand, Devon pulled her closer. “I wasn’t going to tell you this yet, but now’s as good a time as any, I guess. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’m considering moving to Sydney. Actually, I’m more than considering. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“But—”

“If I’m granted custody of Ryan, which I hope and pray that I am, I’ll bring him with me. And if I’m not,” Devon said, not wanting to even think about it, “I’ll come back on my own and hope the court will let me be a part of Ryan’s life. Either way, I want to be where I can see you and Ryan every day. It’s no longer an option for me to stay away from you.”

When Stella didn’t say anything right away, Devon added, “But if you feel differently—”

On her tiptoes, Stella pressed her mouth against his. Devon’s arms encircled her, and he drew her close, loving everything about her. Her eyes, her hair, her charm, her kindness, her strength—everything.

Somehow, Stella had become a part of him, as though he was only a shell of himself without her. He needed her like he needed happiness and could no longer contemplate a life without her in it.

Not anymore.

⇐ ⇑ ⇒

Stella rested her head against the closed door inside her flat. Devon had said exactly what she’d wanted to hear and yet there were still too many what-ifs to really believe she could be that happy. What if Justin
was
granted custody? What if the judge didn’t give Devon visitation rights? Could Devon still live in Australia, knowing Ryan was so close and yet still out of his reach?

On the other hand, if Devon was awarded custody, could Stella stand by and watch him take Ryan away from the Pierce family? Knowing Lindsay, Stella was sure she’d be fine with it. In fact, she was probably cheering them on from heaven’s sidelines, yelling at her to stop being so stupid.

Sighing, Stella pushed away from the door. It was no use sifting through all the what-ifs—not when the list contained so many. One more day and she’d be able to narrow it down.

One more day.