Against All Odds

Chapter 7

KILLIAN

Six Years Ago

"Don't give me that look."

Stella ignored me, curling in upon herself like she always did whenever this particular topic cropped up. Huddled on the couch, a huge fluffy blanket covering her shoulders, she had formed a sort of cocoon in front of the stuttering television, some old grunge song filtering through the apartment with a tinny echo.

"I can tell you are upset," I pressed, working my arms through the hoodie I had chosen to wear.

"I can't talk about this anymore," Stella threw at me, and then promptly turned up the volume on the TV.

I huffed an annoyed breath, tossing my head through the garment and straightening it over my chest and abdomen. It was cold outside and I considered briefly the need for a scarf, foregoing that decision until things had settled between Stella and I. I couldn't help but feel her withdraw away from me, a distance lingering between us that seemed to grow as each day went by.

It was a niggling concern of mine, largely overridden by other aspects in my life that took precedence. I considered the possibility that Stella could be feeling neglected the week succeeding our engagement. My coursework had taken me away from the apartment for a few nights that week, compelling me to linger closer to campus and have dinners with my parents. It was not like her to hold a grudge when it came to my studies, though. If anything, she was wholly supportive- financially and emotionally- through it all.

Which meant that there was only one reason left as to why she was sporting a blackened mood and a face like she had a piece of shit stuck to her upper lip.

"She's my mother, Stella. What would you have me do?"

"Nothing," she said flatly, her voice hollow and cold. I didn't like it- Stella was normally full of fire, emotionally charged when she was angry or hurting. It was one of the things I appreciated about her, and it was rare that she held anything back from me.

"Stella, please." Frustrated, I ran my hand through my hair and came to sit beside her on the couch. "It's one day of the week. Let me get through this lunch with them and then we will work through it."

"Have you told them?" She turned to me then, her eyes huge and unblinking behind the lenses of her large glasses.

"Told them what?" I hedged, though I knew without a doubt what she was referring to.

"That you proposed."

That I proposed not that we are engaged. I made a vague gesture with my hand. "Not yet. Today."

Her smile was small, sad. "OK."

"Stella, she's my mother. What would you have me do?"

A noncommittal shrug, her attention now drawn to the indistinct images on the failing screen of the television. "I don't know, Killian. Try harder? I can't deal with this anymore... Sometimes it feels like the words I say disappear into the air as soon as they have left my lips. But go... enjoy your time with your mother."

Her words were bitter, resentful almost, and it pricked my own hurt that came to the fore suddenly and erratically. It was maddening how she was able to do that- convert me from reasonable and cool, to an entirely hot-headed mess of a man. "You can't hold it against me that I still have a mother," I said, and instantly regretted the words.

She stiffened, her jaw tensing yet she didn't look at me. If she did, I feared what I would read in her gaze. I wasn't sure I wanted to see that censure- I was an idiot for saying what I did, and I instantly regretted it. "Stella, I'm sorry-"