By a Thread Read online

  The guy turned to look at Stella, his eyes travelling to the tattoo on her back. “Damn, girl, is that a real tattoo?”

  Stella grimaced. People asked her that all the time, it was a stupid question. “No, it’s fake,” she answered sarcastically. She recoiled when the guy touched her, rubbing his finger across her tattoo.

  “Oh, sorry,” the guy said, pulling his hand from her back.

  “You touch me again and I’ll break your fucking hand.” She smiled at him and took her drinks back to the dance floor.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She was in the back of the restaurant, eating a salad and reading for class when George walked to the back and put down his plate. She didn’t even look up until he slid the chair out so he could join her. Stella’s hair was in a bun, and she was twirling pieces that had fallen out with her hand while she read.

  She smiled briefly when she finally noticed him. “Ah, we meet again.” Stella turned down the corner of her Civil Practice and closed it.

  “That’s a mighty big book, Stella.” George took a huge bite of his sandwich.

  “It’s what chicks with big minds read.” She checked the time on her cell. She had fifteen minutes before she had to go back to work.

  “I love a girl with a big mind,” George smiled again. Stella went back to work on her salad, and the two sat pleasantly silent for a few minutes.

  “So, George, you are totally obsessed with Cosi sandwiches.” Stella didn’t look up from her salad; she had pretty much seen him every day for the last year, either at her job or his.

  “Pretty much.” He opened his bag of chips and she almost salivated. “You want one?”

  “I wish.” Stella looked at her salad. All she ever ate these days were salads. “I gained some weight over the last year and I’m trying to get it off. Patrick is making me go to the gym with him every morning at six in the morning. It’s obnoxious.”

  “That’s a bit tough. You should tell him to fuck off. He should like you for you.” George didn’t look at her when he said this, but examined his food.

  Stella smiled a little, “George. You’re too funny, he isn’t making me lose weight. I could give a shit what Patrick thinks about my looks.” She laughed again. “I asked for his help, he’s good at making me do shit I don’t want to do.”

  “So, how long have ya’ll been engaged?”

  Stella actually spit food out of her mouth. “No!” She grabbed a napkin and put it over her face while she laughed.

  “Why is it so funny? You are always together at the bar. Always. The way he looks at you just made me think…” He stared intensely at her face, but pointed to her engagement ring. “I know if I was engaged to you I wouldn’t let any other guy act like Patrick acts around you.”

  Stella’s eyes clouded over, but she refused to cry. “He’s protective, but it’s like I’m his little sister.” Stella thought about it, she guessed she was always with Patrick. “He’s my roommate.” Her voice shook a little.

  “Oh... well, I guess that clears up the whole you are always with each other thing.” George was rambling. “Where is your fiancé? I thought you moved up here together?”

  “Wow, George, you ask a lot of questions.” Stella looked at her cell for the time. “We did move here together.”

  “Well, why haven’t I met him?” George leaned, still staring at her.

  “George, I’m not engaged anymore…” Stella let out a long breath, relieved she hadn’t started crying.

  “Oh.” He looked at her ring again. “Why are you wearing your ring then?”

  “None of your business, George.” Stella pushed herself back from the table and threw the remainder of her lunch in the trash, walking as fast as she could to the employees’-only kitchen.

  “So I’ve been ordering pizza since last Tuesday. If finals aren’t over soon I’ll probably die from stress eating... or just stress,” Millie lamented. Millie and Stella were taking a break from studying, and having coffee at Starbucks across the street.

  “Millie, this isn’t the end of the world. It’s not life or death, they are only fucking tests. You’re studying and preparing, you’ll be fine. You make a B, you’ll be fine.” Stella took a tentative sip of her gingerbread latte and sighed.

  “I’ve wanted to do this my entire life. My entire future depends on me making good grades, actually depends on how I do on ONE test.”

  “Peter said this is what law school does. It beats you down to build you back up, kinda like the armed forces.” Stella took another sip of coffee and pulled her wool cap down over her ears. Peter was a Constitutional Law professor at the school. She’d met him a few weeks ago while eating lunch in the cafeteria on the top floor of the law school. Millie had run home, so Stella was eating by herself, and reading cases. He’d dropped his tray on her table and immediately started talking to her, making it impossible to ignore him. They’d talked for a couple hours until her next class. He’d changed her perspective on many aspects of law school.

  “Why are you so calm? Why aren’t you freaking out? Look...look!” Millie urged pointing at her eye. “My eye won’t stop twitching and I haven’t had a solid shit in two weeks.”

  “Um, gross.” It took all Stella had not to spit her coffee at Millie. “First of all, too much information. Second, I’m already as down as I can get. All law school can do is build me up. Third, you can’t let this shit control you.”

  “You’re mouth is moving but I don’t understand the words coming out.” Millie looked at her cell to check the time. “I honestly think I may be losing my fucking mind.”

  “You’ll be fine. Although, you do look a little crazy.” Stella looked around at the mass of law students sitting outside in the thirty-degree weather just to smoke, get coffee, or just get out of the library. She pointed at Millie’s feet. “You are wearing two different tennis shoes.”

  “That’s so fucking condescending. I know I’ll be fine, you asshole, I’m just freaking out like every other first year except for you.” Millie looked down at her feet and cringed. “This, is a fashion statement.”

  “What’s it saying?” Stella couldn’t hide her grin.

  Millie flipped her the bird.

  “Well, look, my life has been a little different than most of the first year law students. I’m sure I’ll freak out at some point and get mad at you for telling me I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ve got to go finish my outline for civil procedure. That final is open book so I’m not as worried about it.”

  “If your eye doesn’t stop twitching soon I’m going to get nervous.”

  “Shut up, I can’t help it.”

  “Last final is Friday, how do we celebrate?”

  “I’m going home on Saturday, so it can’t be too much... Finnegan’s?”

  “Any place I can walk home from after drinking is fine with me.”

  “Besides there are always yummy conservative men there.”

  “What’s yummy about that?” Stella looked at Millie’s smiling face, her eye had stopped twitching.

  “I love a conservative man, El. Military, even better.”

  “Okay, I guess everyone has a type.”

  “What’s your type, El? You never even look at guys.” Millie smiled at a girl in their section as they made their way to the library.

  Stella opened the door and put her finger to her mouth, “Saved by the silent library,” she mouthed and walked over to the carrel where her laptop was, and put her ear buds back in her ears with a smile.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stella, Millie, and Billy walked up to the bar where Patrick was sitting. It was almost happy hour and Millie and Stella had just finished their first set of finals in law school. Stella was exhausted and ordered two beers to start.

  Millie had a cranberry vodka. “I can’t stay too long, I’m leaving in the morning.” Millie drank half her drink in one gulp. “When are you leaving, El?”

  Stella felt all three sets of eyes on her. “I’m staying
here.”

  “Damn, you hate your parents or what?” Millie took another gulp of drink and flagged down a bartender for another one.

  Stella was already on her second beer. “No, I don’t hate them.” she said softly, “We don’t really know each other anymore.”

  “Whatever, weirdo. What about you, Patrick? You going home for the holidays?”

  His blue eyes softened when he looked at Millie. “Yep.”

  Stella raised her brows at Patrick, this was the first she was hearing about this. “When you headed home?”

  “Christmas Eve.” Stella examined his face, she knew he would go back earlier if she left. They would talk later.

  Stella caught sight of George and waved him over. “Yo, I need two more.”

  George nodded at her and started pouring her two draft beers. He walked over to where she was sitting on a bar stool. “You look a little tired, El.”

  Stella took one of the beers and took a large gulp. “You’re fucking observant.”

  “That’s why I get paid the big bucks.” George winked at her. “You know, you have the tolerance of a 300-pound man.”

  Stella held her glass up in a “cheers” motion. “Proud of it.”

  Stella refused Patrick’s request that she come home with him for Christmas. Millie asked her too. She was fine being with Cooper on Christmas. She was running with Cooper on the afternoon of Christmas Eve when she ran into George as he made his way into Finnegan’s, his hands full of boxes.

  “Hey,” she said out of breath. “Let me get the door for you.” Stella ran over and held the door as he walked in, the heat warming her frozen face. She shut the door and started to run off.

  “El?” She heard George call as she made her way toward Queen Street. She turned and smiled. She waved and jogged back over to where George was standing, his hand shielding his eyes from the bright afternoon sun. He had on a navy pea coat and a grey wool cap pulled down to his eyes.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said.

  “Merry Christmas. What’re you doing here?” He reached out to touch her arm.

  “Oh, I’m staying here for Christmas.” Cooper began smelling George. “Cooper, stop that. So sorry.”

  “That’s okay, I love dogs. My dog died a few months ago. I’m still broken up over it.”

  “Oh God, I’m sorry, George.” She pulled at Cooper’s collar.

  “So, is Patrick staying with you for Christmas?”

  “No, he left yesterday,” she said, inching away.

  “No one should be by themselves on Christmas,” George smiled.

  “It’s okay. I won’t be by myself.”

  “Oh, well okay. If you get bored we have a big buffet tonight. Since we all have to work Christmas Eve, we do it up. You should come by.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I gotta go. Thanks for the invitation, George. If I don’t see you, have a great holiday.”

  “Hopefully I’ll see you tonight,” he called after her.

  When she walked into Finnegan’s she was shocked by the number of people there, it was Christmas Eve. She walked to the bar and took the only bar stool left, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck as she craned to see who was bartending. She waved at Hazel. “Guinness,” Stella shouted over the crowd. She felt an arm go around her shoulder.

  “You came.” George leaned over and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

  Stella, taken aback, scooted away from George’s touch. Then she saw his rosy cheeks and glassy eyes. He was drunk. “Hey, George.”

  “Hey,” he said moving a customer out of the way to slide up the bar next to Stella. “Get me another Bass, Hazel.” He turned his body to face Stella’s, showing her his puzzled eyes.

  “Thought you were busy?”

  “Plans fell through,” she lied easily.

  “I’m glad.” He leaned down close to where she was sitting, “You look beautiful.”

  Stella blushed. He smelled amazing, like rosemary and mint. “Thanks, George, so do you.” What? That didn’t make any sense.

  He chuckled. “You want to sit with me at my table? Eat with me.” George grabbed his beer, then took her hand and led her back to where he was sitting. “Let me get you a plate.”

  George handed her a plate and led her to the buffet. After she loaded her plate with all sorts of amazing food, she made her way to the table in the back. She smiled at George. “This looks incredible.”

  “It is.” He looked around. “Finnegan’s has been open on Christmas Eve every year since it opened. Look at how many people would rather be here than with their families.”

  “It’s crazy.” Stella took a bite of the Shepherd’s Pie.

  “I’d give anything to have my dad back, but I guess this is better than nothing.”

  She shook her head, confused. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He smiled at her, “It’s hard at Christmas without him, you know.”

  “I sure do,” she said softly.

  “So how were finals?” George asked, changing the subject.

  “They’re over. I’m glad. I think Millie lost her mind a couple of times. I threw up before every final.”

  “Shit.” George leaned back in his chair, gazing at her.

  “I have a nervous stomach. If I get really stressed, I vomit, always have.”

  George reached over and wiped at something on Stella’s lip with his thumb, a buzz started where he touched and traveled all the way to her toes. She cocked her head in a question.

  “You had a little of the pie on your mouth,” George said, staring at her lips.

  “Thanks,” she replied, feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden. His touch had been unexpected. Maybe that’s why there was a buzzing throughout her body. She was quiet as they finished dinner. After dessert she had politely excused herself, thanking George profusely for inviting her, and made her way home.

  Christmas morning she got up and made coffee, filled her cup with Bailey’s and then sat down in front of the television to watch the Christmas parades. Cooper sat down right in front of her, his face searching hers hopefully.

  “I don’t have any food for you.” She smiled, leaned over and put her chin on the top of his head. When she sat up again, she showed him her hands, “See, no food.” His big paw landed on her knee, showing he wanted her to pet him. “Okay…” Stella got up and picked up his new bowl. Patrick had gotten him a new aluminum bowl with spikes circling the entire bowl. He’d said Cooper needed to be more “badass.”

  “You’re badass enough, right?” She filled the bowl with dog food and put it on the floor. Her phone beeped, indicating a text message. Turning on the Lumineers, she began cooking an omelet and turkey bacon. Cooper hovered, hoping she’d drop scraps.

  Her phone made a motorcycle noise, her dad was calling. She picked up her phone and realized he wanted to video chat with her. He and her mom were squeezed together to fit onto the phone’s screen. Hitting the accept button to accept, she smiled. “Hey ya’ll?”

  “Merry Christmas,” they recited together.

  “Merry Christmas to you too.”

  “Since you couldn’t be here in person I told your father, ‘let’s do that video thing.’ I want to see my baby on Christmas.”

  “Here I am,” she answered.

  “You look like shit,” her dad said.

  “Thanks,” she said looking down at Jamie’s baseball jersey.

  “Where’s Patrick?” Her mother craned her neck like she might be able to see Stella’s kitchen.

  Stella hadn’t anticipated them asking about Patrick; she’d told them he was at the house with her again this year. “He’s in the bathroom,” she answered.

  “Well, tell him we asked about him.” Her mother straightened her hair as she looked at the screen. “This phone makes me look weird, doesn’t it?”

  “A little,” Stella answered hesitantly, trying to figure out the right answer.

  “You look fine,” her dad responded. “Stella, are you eating? Patrick
said you were eating. You need to eat.”

  “I’m eating fine. I went to a Christmas buffet last night and ate my weight in Shepherd’s Pie, so I’ve been carrying on the holiday tradition.”

  “Well, look at this…” her mother pointed to a few boxes sitting on the table in front of them. “These were under the tree for you. I kept thinking you would come home.”

  “Sorry.” Stella looked over at her omelet, it was starting to burn.

  “Its fine, baby girl, we just wanted to see your face this morning.” Her dad chastised her mother with his tone, she could tell this was a fight they had already had.

  “Okay, I’ve got to go,” she said. “Love ya’ll.”

  “Love you too,” her dad responded. “Come home soon, baby,” her mother said at the same time. Her dad was shooting her mother the death glare as they hung up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Stella was hard at it with school and work, and before she knew it, it was St. Patrick’s Day. Millie and Patrick were sitting next to each other at the bar waiting on drinks, while Billy and Stella remained at the table. St. Patrick’s Day happened to fall on a Friday and the four had been at Finnegan’s since 5:30. The band playing traditional Irish music had the entire bar singing along. They were singing the “Unicorn Song.” Stella had become very familiar with the song because every Saturday night right after midnight the band played it. The “Unicorn Song” required the crowd to stand up and do the body motions along with the song. It was hilarious to see grown men singing about unicorns and other animals. She was shocked to find out the song was actually a Shel Silverstein poem, set to music.

  Stella leaned into the table, her face a few inches from Billy’s, “I’m hammered.”

  “It’s only midnight,” Billy laughed and leaned back in his chair. “You’re gonna puke tonight.”