I AM BUILDING MYSELF A NEW HOUSE.

are they all destined to have absolutely horrific dating lives?

"i mean ––"

she shouldn't have brought it up. andrew is going to be upset with her. and she will feel guilty for upsetting stella, which she already has, but ––

"–– that he's your father."

and don't most children –– children like stella and ellie and andrew and ridley and isabel and maybe even vincent, growing up in impossible shadows, existing in families with impossible secrets, shouldering some of the weight, whether they realize it or not, of all the things their parents want to be better and kinder and easier –– make excuses for their mothers and fathers? think they understand them better than anyone else could?

STELLA IS MORE FRUSTRATED THAN SHE WOULD LIKE TO ADMIT, BUT IT'S OBVIOUS IN THE WAY SHE'S JUMPING TO SPEAK AS SOON AS ELLIE'S WORDS HAVE LEFT HER MOUTH, BARELY LEAVING TIME FOR THEM TO SETTLE.

"But that doesn't mean—"

Oh, she really doesn't mean to sound so sharp. It just drives her a little crazy, the dissonance between who her father is and who everyone else wants him to be.

"—that doesn't mean I'm wrong." Less reliable.

stella's life is so different from ellie's. stella's family is so different than ellie's. detached, cold. distant. it feels strange and sad to be older and aware of these things and to hear stella try to defend them and maybe this conversation won't matter at all, will only make things worse.

(but andrew and stella are close. ellie isn't completely oblivious; maybe andrew hasn't outright admitted anything to her, but she doesn't have to. it makes her nervous, to think of him becoming more entwined with the romano family.)

"I guess you have a point." Her laughter is nervous, like she's been caught in some shameful act, or in trying to play coy. And maybe she has been caught—the eye contact that ensues is awfully damning.

"—my shirt?" She uses this as an excuse to look down and away from Ellie. It's a white button-up that cost way more than a white button-up ever should. The buttons alone, I mean—come on.

"it's nice."

she can't picture mrs. romano shopping, but surely she must. whenever she tries to imagine the inner workings of the romano household, it comes up impossibly blank.

"so ––"

she leans in a little closer.

"then maybe you shouldn't ask it."

which won't happen, of course. she doubts octavia is capable of the self-restraint.

isabel's expression shutters. not for the first time, she regrets agreeing to this.

"i don't want to talk about my father."

her father keeps to himself. he prefers it that way. he has earned his privacy, his quiet life, whatever it is he wants of it. isabel won't allow someone to come in and try to take that away; her mother and shilah certainly wouldn't, either.

wasn't this supposed to be a business dinner?

Why can't everyone else just see what she sees?

Does she have to make them? Does she have to induce audiovisual hallucinations in her friends and family in order to compel them to accept a reality where Daniel Romano is generous and gentle and kind?

Oh, god. The thought that that is what it would take—it fills Stella with dismay. She endeavors to be less dramatic.

But still.

"i mean ––"

she shouldn't have brought it up. andrew is going to be upset with her. and she will feel guilty for upsetting stella, which she already has, but ––

"–– that he's your father."

and don't most children –– children like stella and ellie and andrew and ridley and isabel and maybe even vincent, growing up in impossible shadows, existing in families with impossible secrets, shouldering some of the weight, whether they realize it or not, of all the things their parents want to be better and kinder and easier –– make excuses for their mothers and fathers? think they understand them better than anyone else could?

"No but, though! I'm serious. I was just admiring."

"it can be nice and true. they're not mutually exclusive."

she hates her clothes, doesn't she? ellie catches the glance, can practically feel the well-intentioned judgement radiating from her. she has never met someone so preoccupied by what someone else wears and still so adamant about not acknowledging it.

ellie stares back, lets her gaze flit over stella's spotless clothes, the clean, tailored lines of them.

STOP SAYING WE!

Because Stella certainly doesn't agree with what Ellie is insisting, right now, and Andrew couldn't possibly, because if Andrew did, that would mean Andrew won't see reason when Stella says:

"He's not a bad person."

"He never was, and he never will be."

she and andrew have been a we long before stella romano ever came into the picture. she would resent that there was ever any thought otherwise, if stella were to say so outright.

"just because you think that, stella ––"

maybe they should not be talking about this at all.

"—you're way more talented than me. It's not even a question."

"we're just different. stylistically."

and there's nothing wrong with that!

He did. Miss you. We all did.

Alex tries to smile, but it's mostly a grimace. They don't like being reminded of the things that they've made people feel. They don't like feeling responsible. (They're like their mother, in this way.)

mostly with stevie, who comes and goes, is stevie and isn't stevie, is kind to her and then sometimes, accidentally, exceptionally cruel.

(they're on good terms, now. for the last couple of weeks, which is more of a triumph than ellie can bear to admit to anyone. already, she feels as though she's giving him too many chances, trying too hard, contorting herself into this version of herself that she doesn't quite like. but that's not the conversation she and alex are having, and maybe never will be.)

"i'm not lying to you."

the bragins –– save for ridley, most of the time –– are not shy about their feelings. they have grown up in a household where earnestness was encouraged. and, truthfully –– she can't quite grasp why making them feel special would be a bad thing, given everything.

Far be it from me or you or Ellie or even Alex and Ridley themselves to define the parameters of their relationship, their dynamic, whatever it is they've had going on since childhood that only seems to be significant to one Alex Haven.

They look at Ellie with apprehensive eyes. Apprehensive, yes, but hopeful.

"yeah, of course."

she's not really sure how ridley will take it, but ellie seems like a good enough buffer; he will be honest with her, or honest in the way that ridley knows how to be with any of them, and if it's not something alex wants to hear –– well, ellie can lie. if it spares alex's feelings, it'll feel like the right thing to do.

"probably not."

ellie feels the best approach, while maybe not the most delicate one, is to be honest. she's not going to pretend to know the in's and out's of ridley and alex's relationship –– truthfully, she hadn't realized there was actually much of a relationship at all, much less one that would involve missing –– and now feels like the worst time to ask about it.

she finishes texting stevie under the table and looks over at alex.