ELEVEN
Stella
Shit hit the fan when everyone found out I was the girl in the video.
Donnie won’t speak to me anymore, which kind of stung at first. He was my first love, after all, and the guy I lost my virginity to. But I suspect his anger has more to do with the fact that he was so sure I’d eventually come around, not move on to someone else.
My parents went ballistic, like I knew they would. Things got so tense at home that I moved in with Clay for the time being, but he got so used to having me around that he didn’t want me to leave.
I didn’t either.
So that’s how we wound up living together after barely a month of dating. And so far, things have been amazing.
I never would’ve guessed that Clay’s such a cuddler. Seems like he doesn’t want an inch between us when we’re at home—even when he’s sleeping. Every morning I wake up still wrapped in his arms, feeling loved and safe.
And every morning he greets me by grinding his morning wood against my ass while murmuring, “Good morning, Miss Moretti,” into my ear.
Good morning, indeed.
I’m still filling in for Brenda while she takes care of Paul, but Clay and I agreed to have me stay out of the office for the time being. It was bad enough having to do the walk of shame out of his office every day when I dropped off his lunch, but now that there’s visual evidence of what we do behind closed doors floating around the internet… Well, it got to be a tad too embarrassing.
I’d like to say the media shitstorm surrounding us has died down, but the fact that Clayton Castle is dating his twenty-two-year-old assistant is still a juicy piece of gossip.
In addition to having my name and face splashed across the press, I’ve gotten countless requests for interviews, all of which I’ve turned down—even Diane Sawyer. I want to protect what little privacy I have left.
Besides, I seriously doubt that granting an interview will change anyone’s opinion of our relationship. The media still paints me as a gold digger and portrays this “fling” as a mid-life crisis for Clay.
The only way to prove them wrong is by ignoring them and living our life together.
Which is exactly what we’re doing when we pull up to my parents’ house in Southie.
I was right. As soon as they found out about Clay and I—after they got over the shock of the video, of course—they insisted on meeting him.
Clay looks nervous as he puts the car in park. I’ve never seen him nervous about anything before.
Smiling, I unbuckle my seatbelt. “You’ll do fine, Mr. Castle. I have complete faith in you.”
With one look, he lets me know that he doesn’t think it’s funny, which of course makes me laugh.
I climb out and shut the door. The car beeps as he locks it and I wait for him to walk around before we ascend the porch steps and ring the doorbell.
My mother opens the door a few seconds later. She smiles as soon as she sees us, wiping her hands on her apron as she pulls Clay in for a hug. “It’s so good to meet you!”
He awkwardly hugs her back. “You too, Mrs. Moretti.”
My mom waves him off when she pulls back. “Please. Call me Diane.”
She steps aside and lets us into the foyer. “Your father’s in his usual spot,” she tells me as she shuts the door behind us. “Why don’t you go introduce Clay while I finish up dinner?”
My mother looks as nervous as I suddenly feel. I knew she’d take to Clay like a bird takes to water, but my father on the other hand…
Well, I’ve heard people compare him to Robert De Niro on more than one occasion.
I force a smile up at Clay and lead him into the living room. My dad’s sitting in his recliner with a beer in hand, his signature scowl firmly in place as he watches TV.
“Dad, this is Clay. Clay, this is my dad, Jack Moretti.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
My dad eyes Clay’s outstretched hand, looking entirely unimpressed. I shoot him a glare, forcing him to reluctantly shake it.
I lead Clay around the coffee table and sit on the couch adjacent to my father. Clay sits next to me.
For a few moments no one speaks, the sound from the TV the only thing keeping it from being deafeningly quiet. Then my father asks, “You divorced, Clay?” without ever tearing his eyes off the screen.
Clay clears his throat. “No, sir. I’ve never been married.”
“Got kids?”
“Not yet,” Clay says, forcing a smile.
My dad finally looks away from the TV, glancing at me as he hitches a thumb toward Clay. “What’s wrong with this guy?”
My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “Dad,” I hiss.
“What? When I was his age your mother and I had been married for thirteen years and had the four of you runnin’ around. He should be settled by now.”
“It’s okay,” Clay says. “I, uh, guess I just hadn’t met the right woman.”
“And Stella’s the right one?” my father asks, looking dubious.
“Yes.” His answer is resolute and has me slipping my hand in his and lightly squeezing.
“What about you, missy?” My father points his beer at me before taking a sip. “Is this really the guy you want to hitch your wagon to?”
I look at Clay, smiling wide. “Yes.”
My father gets up from his recliner, walking toward the kitchen as he mutters, “I just got used to Donnie, now I gotta get used to this guy?”
Clay leans over as soon as we’re alone. “Does that mean he approves?”
“Well, Donnie and I dated for like seven years, so… Maybe in seven years he’ll come around.”
“Where do you think we’ll be in seven years?”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “As long as we’re happy, I don’t really care.”
“I think we’ll be married.”
My head perks right back up. I can’t stop the smile from stretching my lips as I search his face, trying to decipher if he’s being honest. “Yeah?”
Clay nods. “And I hope we have four of you running around someday.”
“Really? Four?” I come from a big family. All my siblings have big families. After Donnie, I kind of thought I didn’t want that anymore, but the thought of having lots of babies with Clay suddenly doesn’t seem so daunting.
He leans in and kisses my forehead. “I’d have twenty kids with you if you’d let me.”
I smirk. That’s easy for the man to say. He doesn’t have to do any of the hard work. “And who’s going to take care of all these kids?”
He shrugs. “I could.”
“You?” I ask, failing to keep the shock out of my voice.
“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “I think I’ve earned an early retirement.”
He certainly has. Clay’s achieved more in thirty-eight years than most people could in several lifetimes. But he earned it with lots of dedication and by working practically non-stop.
Would he really give all that up?
I bite my lip, afraid to ask. It’s not that I want him to stop working, but the thought that he’d even be willing to? It’s almost too much to hope for. “You’d really stop working?”
Clay laughs like I said something ridiculous. “To raise a family with you? Absolutely. Nothing would be more important to me, Stella.” He leans in, touching his head to mine.
I want to kiss him so bad, but my parents are in the kitchen and Clay and I have a tendency to get carried away…
I force myself to put a little space between us as I ask, “What if I wanted to work?”
He shrugs. “If that’s what you want. What would you be doing?”
“I don’t know. I just always envisioned myself doing something because I didn’t want to be trapped at home with a bunch of kids all day while my husband went off to work.” I give him a lopsided smile. “It doesn’t sound like I have to worry about that with you.”
He cups my face in his hand, softly stroking my cheek. “You don’t have to worry about anything with me. If you want to work, then work. If you don’t, then don’t. I’ll support you no matter what you decide, Stella, because at the end of the day it’s your decision, not mine.”
My chest tightens as my eyes water. “I love you,” I say, smiling despite the tears starting to drip down my face.
Clay wipes my tears away. “Not as much as I love you, Miss Moretti.”