Stella's POV:
Sheila tactfully dropped the subject of James. I, even more tactfully, didn't pick it up. To me, he was a distant star. Maintaining this mutually beneficial arrangement was good enough. One day, our paths would diverge, and we would become strangers. I was grateful that, so far, I could detach myself gracefully. However, thinking of that sometimes cold, sometimes subtly gentle, devastatingly handsome face, a pang of pain inexplicably tugged at my heart—light, minuscule, almost negligible.
Sheila retrieved a row of bottles from the wine cabinet, and we started drinking straight from them. By the time the floor was littered with empties, we were thoroughly drunk, unable even to recognize each other.
I started hallucinating. I saw James! He stood unsteadily before me, his
