Page 163 of After All This Time

My head rests on his chest, and I absentmindedly trace patterns over his skin, memorizing every inch of him, while his hand lazily strokes my back, grounding me in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"You looked beautiful when you danced tonight."

I shift, propping myself up on his chest to meet his gaze. "You were there?"

"Of course I was." He catches my chin and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose, causing my heart to swell. "I’ve never felt that proud in my entire life. And even though I hate what it means forus, you made the right decision to do this. You belong up on that stage."

I drop my head back to his chest, releasing a shaky breath. "The touring is killing me. And now they're talking about international shows in a couple of years. Which means…"

"Flying," he finishes gently.

"Even thinking about stepping on a plane makes me feel nauseous," I admit, the feargrippingme just from saying it out loud. "What happened to my dad was unbelievably tragic, and I know it’s rare, but I can’t get past it."

His hand moves to the back of my neck, his thumb stroking soothing circles against my skin. "Whathappened to your dad was awful, but it was a freak accident. It doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to you."

"My head knows that," I whisper, "but the fear is still there."

"Then let’s focus on the now," he says, shifting slightly so he can look at me. "Is the dream still New York?"

"It’ll always be New York," I say without hesitation.

"So this is just part of the journey." The conviction in his voice makes me want to believe every word he's saying. "You're building your name, baby. And when New York calls—because it will—you'll be ready."

"What about you?" I ask, my voice quieter now.

"Don't insult me by asking that." His fingers thread through my hair, tilting my face to meet his eyes. "I need two things in this life: you and a space to create. One of those is nonnegotiable, and the other?" A soft laugh rumbles through his chest. "I can build a studio anywhere. When New York happens,ithappens for us both. Simple as that."

I surge up, catching his mouth with mine, trying to pour everything I feel for this beautiful man into the kiss. When I pull back, my voice shakes. "You'd really follow me?"

"Firefly," he whispers, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. "I'd follow you straight into hell if that's where you were headed."

Chapter 61

Tobias

Tonight's the night my girl becomes mine in every way—in public, private, and all the spaces between where we've been hiding. It's not just some bullshit announcement. It's a fucking line drawn in concrete, and I'm ready to watch it set.

Leading Amelia through the restaurant, I catch the subtle signs she thinks she's hiding. She's trying to mask it, but I know her too well. She's ready for this showdown. She's preparing for the worst, but she'll feel lighter when we walk away from this table.

I'll make sure of it.

This conversation's been coming since the first time I kissed her, andI'm not spending another second of my life pretending she isn't everything to me.

My dad spots us first, and his eyes narrow when he sees me. He leans back in his chair, his usual air of practiced indifference slipping for just a second. Kayla comes next, her eyes wideningin surprise. It's clear she wasn't expecting me—wasn't prepared for this confrontation—and damn if that isn't satisfying.

Kayla is the closest thing I've ever had to a mother figure, yet she's looking at me like I'm the enemy. But if that's how she wants to play it, fine.

So be it.

My father rises and extends his hand, his grip firm but detached, the way it always is. I shake it out of habit, out of some unspoken obligation, and then watch as he leans down to kiss Amelia’s cheek.I do the same with Kayla, though the gesture feels like ice between us.

"We weren't expecting you, Tobias." My dad's voice is carefully neutral. "You could have mentioned you were coming home."

I pull out Amelia's chair, and, Jesus, the smile she gives me as she sits might as well be a neon sign announcing exactly what we are to each other at this point.

"How's the tour going?" Kayla's voice is forced as she tries her best to pretend I'm not here, like I'm just a shadow she can ignore until I disappear.

"It's going really well, thanks." The tension between them is thick enough to choke on, probably all the leftover shit from their last encounter, but my dad's watching them both like a hawk, picking up every micro-expression.

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