Chapter 27 #2
I leaned forward in my chair. “Okay, how about this: You take the properties—manage them however you think best. Richard and I can advise if you want, but it’s your lead. I’ll keep handling investments and trusts. And we split Mom’s responsibility.
She nodded. “As long as you walk me through it, I’ll figure it out.” She held out her hand, reaching across the bridge I’d thought was broken.
I took it but didn’t let go. “And we figure out how to see each other at least once a month.”
Without hesitation, she nodded once more. “Deal.” She stood from her chair, and I followed. Before I could fully process it, she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in.
“I’m so sorry, Noh. I swear I won’t let you down.”
A warmth I didn’t know I was missing curled in my chest. “I know you won’t.”
When she pulled back, her eyes were red-rimmed. “I didn’t know about the hospital. Not the first time, and not even why the second one happened. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
I offered a weak smile. “How’d you find out?”
“Mom let something slip while guilt-tripping me into coming to this. Then I called Jaz. She spilled the beans.”
“Of course,” I huffed. “It’s fine, Lan. I’ve worked through a lot of that stuff. I’m better now. Promise.”
She gave me a teary smile. “Yeah, I can tell.”
We stood there for a moment, the weight of everything that had passed between us slowly settling into something quieter. Acceptance, maybe. Or just the beginning of it.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d been bracing for this to fall apart—waiting for a snap, a retreat, for her to pull away again. But she didn’t. She stayed.
It felt strange just…taking off. For once, things were good. This could work. I could have my sister back. An actual family.
“Atty and I are going to have dinner at the Space Needle. Want to come with?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah of course I’m sure. We’re doing a bunch of touristy crap tomorrow. If you’re not leaving, you could tag along.”
“That sounds nice. I’ll come, thanks for offering.”
We paid the bill and stepped out into the lobby, walking back toward the room to grab Atty. Ilana moved in close beside me, and I slipped my arm around her shoulders.
She nudged my hip. “He’s amazing, by the way.”
“Oh, I know. And he survived Mom, so…”
Ilana laughed. “He survived the Noah shrine,” she added with a smirk.
I groaned. “Let’s never bring that up again. Seriously, it might be one of the most disturbingly embarrassing things to ever happen in my life, and of course, my boyfriend had to be there to witness it.”
She threw her head back, cackling. This time, her laughter made me smile.
I couldn’t remember the last time things felt this light between us—when she could tease me, and I could actually give it back without fearing offence.
Though, this time, she didn’t quite manage to get much bite behind her words—she was too busy smiling and asking question after question about our life together.
Dinner was easy too. Atty was more relaxed with just the two of us, and it felt like the real deal—like this could actually be my future—a quiet family dinner with him and my sister.
It felt like the beginning of something.
A flicker of hope I was finally letting myself have.
And for the first time in a long while, I couldn’t wait for what came next.
The next day was our last one in Seattle, and boy, did I make good on my promise. Lan joined us, and I dragged them through three tours.
First was the underground—where Lan and I gossiped about family drama I hadn’t even known about, while Atty stood at the front, quietly soaking in every word like he was prepping for a quiz.
Then came the chef’s tour of Pike Place Market.
It was incredible—but by the end, we were stuffed to the point of bursting.
Naturally, we climbed onto one of those red hop-on-hop-off buses and let it carry our food-coma bodies around for an hour.
We finished the day on a sailboat, watching the sun sink into the water like something out of a movie.
It was, hands down, the most fucking wholesome day of my life.
We took pictures, got Seattle T-shirts, and Lan told Atty a bunch of embarrassing stories from my childhood—thankfully sparing me the more explicit teenage ones. They hit it off, and for most of the day, Atty’s hand was laced with mine.
Back at the hotel, he showered first. When I stepped under the water, all I felt was relief.
Relief that this weekend hadn’t ended in a fight or a breakup.
Relief that I had my sister back. Relief that maybe—just maybe—I could start handing off some of the weight that had been crushing me for years.
Most of all, relief that I felt like myself again. Not Party-Noah. Not Addict-Noah. Not Pining-Ex-Noah. Just…me.
The version of me that might’ve existed before if I hadn’t spent so much of my life bitter and jaded. The kind of person who could enjoy the simple things. Who could exist in a moment like today and actually feel like he belonged.
It was so easy, so freeing, that I started to wonder if I’d been the problem all along. Maybe I’d kept myself in that dark hole, convinced I couldn’t get out. It wasn’t the first time that thought had come for me, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
But this time, I told it to fuck off.
Fuck off and let me have this moment. Because I wanted it. I wanted the small things. I wanted love. And he was right there, on the other side of the door, waiting for me.
Walking out of the shower with my robe still clinging to damp skin, I instinctively moved toward the closet to get dressed. But I stopped when I saw him.
I took a step toward him, not bothering with clothes. Another step—not second-guessing, not thinking it through. Another, knowing we belonged to each other. That this was ours.
I stepped in front of him, knowing—really knowing—that this man loved me. The real me. Exactly as I was in this moment. Just as much as I loved him.
When I reached him, I took his phone gently from his hand and dropped it on the bed.
His eyes lifted to mine, pale and curious, and something soft pulled at my chest. A smile tugged at my lips as I climbed into his lap, looping my arms around his neck and settling against him like we were puzzle pieces meant to click.
“Hey,” I whispered, brushing my lips over the droplets on his skin. “Did you have fun today?”
“Yeah, I did,” he said, a little breathless as I shifted closer.
I nibbled his ear, inhaling that perfect Atty scent until it filled every corner of my brain. “Wanna do something else that’s fun?”
His low chuckle vibrated between us. His hands dropped to cup my ass, pulling me against him until no space remained. “Yeah?”
I nodded, fingers twisting in the damp hair at his nape as I nuzzled his nose with mine. Our gazes locked, and heat flared to life between us. “Yeah.”
Then I tugged his hair, pushing him back onto the bed. There was no time to think, no need to pause. Our lips met in a kiss that was hungry and deep and lingering all at once.
I didn’t want to rush this. I wanted to live in it.
But I also wanted to take it. And from the way he kissed me back, surrendering, so did he.
I didn’t break away from his lips as I shrugged off my robe, letting it fall from me while his hands explored every new inch of skin. They were everywhere—skating down my back, tracing the sharp lines of my spine, gliding over my chest.
One finger trailed over my scar—not fearful, not hesitant. Just love. His knuckles brushed my stomach, reverent and slow, before they slid down to grip my hips and pull me closer.
I tugged on his towel, pulling it open so our bodies could truly press together. At the first glide of his cock against mine, we groaned into each other’s mouths.
“What do you want to do?” he whispered against my lips.
“Get your dick in me,” I said with a smile, watching his eyes widen just slightly.
Atty was already panting, lips parted and slick with spit—but beneath the heat, there was something else. Hesitation.
“What?”
His eyes flicked away. “Nothing. Just need lube.”
I clocked it. I’d ask him about it later—whatever it was.
“Nightstand.” I nodded toward it.
He’d been the one to organize everything and put it there in the first place, but now he seemed to be fumbling with it.
I reached for his hair, tugging gently to bring him back to me. “Do you want to? We can stop.”
“I really, really want to. Trust me.”
I grinned. “Okay then. Hand it over.”
He passed me the bottle. I slicked my fingers with practiced ease. Bracing one hand against the headboard, I lifted myself slightly and reached between my legs. Atty’s gaze tracked the movement, unblinking.
I stroked myself slowly, watching his eyes darken. His lips parted as I slid my hand lower, circling the tight ring of muscle before easing a finger inside.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice barely above a breath.
“Getting myself ready for you.” I rocked my hips in slow motion, pressing my finger in deeper.
His gaze flicked up, then down again. “Let me do it.”
Instead of answering, I kept moving—letting him watch. I slipped out and pushed two fingers in. His tongue swept over his bottom lip.
“Not fun for you?” I teased.
“It is. I just like doing it too.”
“Then join me.”
His eyes found mine, searching. I gave him a small nod. He reached for the bottle, coated his fingers, and touched them to mine—just hovering, brushing, not yet pushing in.
I pulled one of my fingers free, pressing my forehead to his. “Come on, sweetheart.”
He lined his up beside mine and eased in. I groaned at the stretch, the contrast in feel—how much deeper he could go.
I rocked over us, hips moving in a lazy rhythm. My lip caught between my teeth as pleasure rolled through me.
His hand slid up my arm, raising goosebumps, then curved around the back of my neck, guiding my mouth to his. When he pushed two fingers in, I moaned into the kiss, adjusting to the new burn.