Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
AFTER
The plane landed a little after three.
Atty and I had taken an early flight after last night’s show at the big club. It had sold out just two days after they posted about it, and our social accounts were growing every day—especially with Lexie managing them. The gig had gone even better than the last one.
Something about our growing relationship made it easier to perform together. We moved in sync now, like the music passed through us in the same rhythm. This time, the nerves didn’t stop me—they built into something electric.
The meeting with Pax had been a lifesaver too.
I didn’t speak, just listened. Some people shared just a few words about their day or a small struggle; others opened up about their mental health or their relationships.
A bit of everything. And all of it honest. That willingness to be vulnerable—it moved something in me.
Because in that room, none of them were alone.
Their struggles didn’t just belong to them anymore. Watching that happen was…beautiful.
It helped settle my uneasiness for this weekend too. We hadn’t stuck around after the show because of the early flight, and choosing to go to bed with Atty was always going to be easy.
We took a car to the hotel and settled in, showering and getting ready for dinner at my mom’s house.
I must’ve changed a million times. I kept staring at myself in the mirror, checking to make sure the clothes were flattering, that they didn’t emphasize the new figure I was still learning to accept.
Atty watched me quietly, giving me space, even in the small room.
He earned serious brownie points for not rushing me and for telling me I looked good in everything I tried on.
Still, my anxiety kept ticking up, minute by minute. I didn’t know what we’d walk into.
Ilana and I had been texting back and forth since I told her I was coming.
She seemed excited about it, and I wanted to believe that meant there’d be at least one friendly face waiting for me.
It made me cautiously optimistic about her wanting to get closer—even though the thought terrified me. Because what if she changed her mind?
And then there was my mom. My mom, her boyfriend, and his entire family, orbiting the same room, waiting. Just thinking about it made my stomach clench, the knot tightening until I felt it sitting like a weight beneath my ribs. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or dread—or both.
And my brother? I couldn’t even let myself contemplate that yet. That was a whole other can of worms I wasn’t ready to open.
On the way over, my leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. Not even when Atty placed his hand on it, steadying me. I peeked at his phone and smiled—he was watching clips from last night’s show, one that focused on me as I played.
“You know I’m sitting right here?”
His eyes lifted lazily to mine.
“You could just stare at me.”
He smiled, then leaned in and kissed my neck. “You look better in the video,” he teased.
I shoved his shoulder, grinning, and reached for his hand.
“You doing okay?”
I tugged at the collar of my shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Well, I’m right here, okay? Just say the word and I’ll get us out of there.”
I smiled. “Thanks. And thanks again for coming,” I added quickly.
“No problem.” He kissed my skin once more before turning back to his phone.
When we pulled into the driveway and stepped out, Atty’s eyes went wide. “This is an apartment building?”
“Yeah. An unnecessarily expensive one. Come on.” I tugged on his arm to get him to follow me. “Wait till we’re inside before you start acting starstruck.”
We rode the elevator in silence to the top floor while my stomach flipped again.
It was fine. We’d small talk, eat, and get the fuck out. How bad could it be?
I glanced at my watch. One minute to seven. Three more hours to go.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open into a lavish entrance hall. The housekeeper stood waiting, even though it was way too warm for coats.
She gave us a perfectly crafted polite nod. “Mr. Rossi.”
I held out my hand. “Noah’s fine. Hi.”
She stared at it for a second before taking it. Atty introduced himself, too, and shook her hand before she led us inside what was technically my apartment.
Soft, generic jazz played in the background, the lights slightly dimmed. It felt like walking into a function, not a damn family dinner.
“Noah!” Ilana’s voice called out, full of visible relief. She hurried over, and we shared an awkward half-hug.
“Hey, Lan.” I stepped back and placed a hand on the small of Atty’s back. “This is Atticus—my boyfriend.”
He offered her his hand with a patented awkward-Atty-smile.
I let out a soft chuckle.
“Nice to finally meet you,” she said.
“Hola, muneco,” came my mom’s voice, slicing clean through the room. I turned toward her.
I didn’t know how she did it, but every time I saw her, she looked slightly different—something in the way her smile curled or the arch of her brows. Younger too.
“Hi, Mom,” I said as she leaned in to kiss both of my cheeks.
“And Atty! Finally. Noah’s told me so much about you,” she added, giving him the same treatment.
I caught Ilana’s eye. Her brows lifted, and she pressed her lips together to hide a grin.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Atty said. He looked a little shocked, and I couldn’t say I blamed him. I was used to that look whenever someone met her.
My mom looped her arms through ours and pulled us into the living room, where the rest of the family waited.
She introduced Atty to her boyfriend—I’d already met him a few times—and then to his two kids—a teenage boy around fifteen and a girl who looked about twelve.
Neither of them seemed particularly interested in meeting us.
She ran through a list of their interests and achievements, like rattling off a résumé would somehow stick in my brain for more than a second.
It was a familiar performance—one I’d seen her perfect over the years—but this time, it hit different.
The way she fawned over them made my stomach tighten even further.
I filed that feeling away for therapy and forced myself to move on.
“Atty, do you want a tour?” my mother asked.
Something pinched in my chest at the sound of her using that nickname. And a tour? Seriously?
“I’ll do it!” Ilana called quickly, glass of wine in hand as she laced her arm through his.
A server—yes, an actual server—appeared, offering drinks. I declined immediately. Atty didn’t get the chance, so he ended up holding a glass of wine he clearly didn’t want. He looked like he’d rather down bleach.
Despite my sister’s best efforts to steer the “tour” off course, my mom tagged along, chatting nonstop while gripping Atty’s arm like she was guiding him through an exhibit.
She pointed out rooms and architectural features with a flourish, like she was selling the place.
And she did that thing where she asked questions but didn’t pause long enough to hear the answers.
She flicked her cascading waves over her shoulder and flashed Atty a winning smile. “You’re in your senior year?”
“Um, yes. We start next we—”
“We used to have the piano in this room, but moved it to the atelier,” she cut in breezily, already moving on.
Atty nodded politely and the tension coiled in my chest.
“That’s just another room behind the living room,” Ilana whispered, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile.
I shot her a grateful glance.
“And this is Noah’s room,” my mom announced with a sweeping gesture.
Noah’s room. Right. I’d stayed in it for maybe a week total. Even when we were supposedly mending things, I never slept over. It felt suffocating.
We stepped inside and stopped cold. Everyone did…everyone but Mom.
“What the…?” Ilana let out softly.
Okay, it did not look like that the last time I was here. Heat crawled up my neck in a slow, creeping flush. Of all people, it had to be Atty standing beside me to witness whatever the hell this was supposed to be.
The room looked like a fucking shrine.
The king-size bed was still there. The same faceless, luxury furniture. But now, the walls were lined with massive, framed photos—portraits of me. Modeling shots from when I was a teen. My face, again and again, blown up like I’d died and no one had told me.
“Aren’t they amazing?” my mom said, stepping inside and tilting her head toward one like she was admiring a painting in a gallery. “I just wanted to frame a couple, but then I couldn’t decide—they were all so good. I might’ve overdone it.”
“You think?” Ilana muttered.
Our eyes met, and something passed between us. The same familiar ache. A shared discomfort we didn’t need to put into words. None of this surprised us—but that didn’t make it easier.
“Too bad he quit. Noah could’ve had such an incredible career,” she went on, then turned to Atty. “Had you ever seen them before?”
Atty looked like he’d just been handed a live grenade. “Yeah, a couple.”
“Isn’t he handsome? People say he’s my spitting image. I used to model too,” she added, full of pride.
A shiver crept down my spine.
“Mrs. Ríos?” A server appeared in the doorway, addressing her. She’d stopped using my father’s last name years ago.
She gave us a quick, apologetic smile and left the room.
“I’ll give you two a minute to process…” Ilana said, gesturing to the wall of framed me. She offered a helpless shrug and slipped out.
I stood there, frozen in place. “I don’t even know what to say,” I muttered to Atty.
It wasn’t just the wall. As I stepped farther in, I realized the shelves and bookcases were cluttered with even more of them.
“She’s…very proud of you.” The words sounded kind, but there was a flicker of apprehension in his expression.
“She’s proud of the way I used to look,” I corrected.