That she heard it in my voice.
That maybe this is the first time in a long time I’ve sounded like myself instead of some polished, efficient ghost version.
“I am.”
Silence.
Then my father says, with the kind of dry affection he almost never voices directly, “About time.”
The line disconnects a minute later, my mother reminding me not to make Stella feel cornered.
I stare at the dead screen for one second, nothing about this weekend has gone the way I thought it would.
Not the dance.
Not the night.
Not the morning.
Not this.
I turn and head back toward the table.
Stella looks up first, immediately. Her expression is careful in the way people get when they’re trying not to expect too much.
That alone makes me want to kiss the worry out of her.
I slide into my chair beside her.
Jade lifts a brow.
“Well?”
Leo leans back with interest.
“Did anyone disinherit you?”
I look at Stella.
Just her.
And smile.
Her brows draw together.
“That is not the face of a man who got yelled at.”
“No,” I say. “It’s not.”
Something in her expression shifts.
Cautious hope now.
I reach for her hand under the table and lace our fingers together.
“My parents are impressed by you.”
She blinks.
