Page 155 of After All This Time

"Yeah, Blondie. I did."She steps closer, and I drape an arm around her shoulders as we start walking back toward the building, my bare feet barely registering the cold concrete beneath them."Did she message you?"I ask, already knowing the answer because that's who Mills is—the kind of person who thinks about everyone elsefirst.

"She told me you might not want to be left alone so soon after she's gone."

My chest tightens, and fuck, I love that girl more than words could ever say.

"I've got breakfast,"Tessa adds, holding up a brown bag, "and I thought I'd keep you company, maybe watchsomeof your movies since you suffered through all of mine when Zane was being an ass."

"Bagels?"I ask, pressing the button for the elevator as we step inside the lobby.

"Obviously."

"Coffee?"

"For you, yeah.Pineapple smoothie for me."

The elevator doors slide open with a soft ding, and I follow her inside, leaning back against the cold metal wall as the car beginsits ascent. The reflection in the mirrored walls shows a man I barely recognize—someone who just ran down the street half-naked to tell the love of his life how he feels about her.

"This doesn't feel good."

"I know,"Tessa says softly, looking up at me with understanding in her green eyes."But at least you know she's coming back."

One hundred and eighty-two days.

Chapter 57

Amelia

The look on Tobias's face that morning as he stood in the street, hands tangled in his hair like a man on the verge of falling apart, is something I'll never forget. Not ever. I practically screamed at Logan to stop the car the second I saw him. The poor guy nearly jumped out of his skin, his hand flying to the steering wheel like I'd almost given him a heart attack.

Nothing mattered except getting to Tobias. I would've hurled myself straight through that car door if that's what it took for a few more precious moments with him.

We're thirty-seven nights into the tour, and my ballet shoes can probably tell stories of their own—worn satin, fraying ribbons, and memories etched into every scuff mark.

Tonight, itwassome city in Wisconsin. Tomorrow, it'll be somewhere else, but they all blend into the same rhythm—a symphony of stage lights, curtain calls, and what feels like magic.

Each performance, I get my moment. Just a few precious minutes where the spotlight finds me, where the music seeps into my bones and my body remembers every hour spent at the barre, every ache and every blister earned.

When I'm not performing, I stand in the wings, my heart in my throat as I watch my friends transform under the lights. Their grace, their power, the way they make the impossible look effortless—it steals my breath every single time.

This is everything I dreamed of during those years of endless rehearsals, and standing here now, I know with certainty that this is what I was born to do.

But that dream is now tangled up with thoughts of Tobias, and I know with the kind of certainty that aches in your bones that I'll never choose another tour that steals me away from him for months again.

Every night after the show, no matter how my muscles scream or how the exhaustion weighsdown on me, I make my way back to my hotel room for our ritual. And every night, like clockwork,Tobias isthere waiting.

When his face fills my screen, my heart does this stupid little dance it's been doing since the first time I saw him. He's sprawled on our couch, all inked skin and dangerous beauty, cigarette smoke curling around him, and the sight of him—shirtless, tattooed, and so fucking beautiful it hurts—makes my throat tight.

"Hi, baby," he says with that lazy smile, and when he lifts a beer bottle to his lips, I can tell by the slight glaze in his eyes that it's definitely not his first.

"Are we smoking in the apartment now?"

"You're not here, so I don't have to worry about damaging your beautiful lungs."

"Do you think you could stop damaging yours for me?"

"When you're home, I'll quit."

"Are you okay, Tobias?"

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