Page 95 of After All This Time

"You're feisty tonight. Everything okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Wow," he says, barking out a laugh as he takes a deliberate step back like he's dodging a grenade. "When you say you're fine, it usually means I'm about to get my ass handed to me."

Before I can fire back, David's voice cuts through. "Ready to go? Alf's got the car waiting," he huffs, my mom already latched onto his arm like some sort of trophy wife accessory.

"After you," Tobias says, stepping aside to let me pass.

As I slide in, the car's leather seats feel cool against my bare legs. Tobias follows, settling beside me, close enough that our thighs almost touch.

I can smell him—that trace of smoke I pretend to hate but secretly love, mixed with something warm and spicy that's purely him. It lingers, filling the tiny space between us, and suddenly the inches separating our bodies feel like millimeters.

If this closeness is affecting him, he doesn't show it. He's calm and composed, the epitome of no fucks given, as he listens to our parents' conversation about a trip to Jamaica they took a few years ago.

We finally pull up to the restaurant, and before I can even think about stepping out of the car, Tobias is there. He leansdown, holding his hand out for me, and I take it, his palm warm and firm against mine.

"Are you okay, Amelia? You've been a little quiet today."

David and Tobias both turn toward us at my mom's words, and I bite back the urge to roll my eyes so hard I see the back of my skull.

"I'm fine," I say quickly, forcing a tight smile and brushing off her concern. "I'm just hungry, and you know how I get."

We're at a cozy little Italian restaurant, the kind of place that smells like fresh bread, garlic, and red wine the moment you step inside. Sinatra plays softly in the background, while candles flicker on every table, casting light across the wooden beams.

The one good thing about coming here is that David somehow manages to turn off his raging-dick attitude. It's like crossing the threshold of this place flips some switch in his head. He always orders the priciest bottle of champagne on the menu, tosses Roman—the owner and head chef—the biggest tip, and actually acts like a decent human being.

David's not exactly themake friends and keep themtype, and though he's been my stepdad for most of my life, I wouldn't call what we have a relationship. I don't think we've ever had a real conversation that didn't involve my mom standing between us.To him, I'm just another obligation, another box to check off on his list of appearances to maintain.

"This is nice," Mom says, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. Because honestly? It really isn't nice. It's forced.

"It is," David adds, casually draping his arm around the back of her chair like the perfect picture of a doting husband. "Thank you for joining us."

David's playing the role well tonight. Pleasant. Polite. And, shockingly, he and Tobias haven't ripped into each other yet.

"I can't wait for the day you come home, and we can do this more often." Mom's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes as sheadds, "Obviously, minus you, Tobias, seeing as Chicago seems to be your home now."

Her lack of belief in me isn't exactly surprising anymore, so I let it roll off my back. But her blatant dismissal of Tobias? That's the one that always hits its mark. That's the one that has me grinding my teeth and hating her just a little more every time she pulls this crap. Because if there's one thing Tobias deserves, it's respect.

"Okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves; it depends on how this year plays out."

"Yes, but if it doesn't work out, you'll come home, right?" Tobias's head snaps up so fast I swear I hear his neck crack.

I see it all—the fear, the want, the silent plea.

He doesn't want me to go.

"It's going to work out."

Tell me I can't do something, and I'll not only prove you wrong—I'll do it wearing fucking bells and dance across your low expectations while the whole world watches me succeed.

"Your mom told me you're working in a bar, Amelia. How are you finding it?" David asks.

"It's fine. I've made some friends, so I'm enjoying it."

"What's it like?" Mom leans forward, and I can practically see her mentally preparing to judge the hell out of my life choices.

If lying my ass off is the only way to shut down her relentless interrogation, then so be it.

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