Page 98 of Trust Fund Baby

With a firm grasp on my camera, I took a deep breath and moved forward, each step carrying me away from the fading gala’s sounds. I supposed we might as well get it over with, knowing it was inevitable we would speak tonight.

“Roxie,” he whispered, the word a gentle exhale after a long silence.

Swallowing hard, I could feel my pulse skittering wildly against my ribs. “Sebastian.”

A heavy, awkward silence sat between us. His eyes searched mine, desperate and guarded all at once, like he wasn’t sure whether to take a step closer or brace for me to walk away.

“You look …” He paused, his throat working as whatever he was going to say got caught on the way out. With a cough, he tried again. “You look incredible, just like you always do.”

A sharp breath caught in my lungs. “And yet you are so different from who I remember.”

He shifted, tugging at the cuff of his sleeve as if the fabric could anchor him. “I had to be. The guy you remember wouldn’t have made it here tonight. He wouldn’t have been trusted to run something like this.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Wouldn’t have been good enough for you.”

Those words were like a sudden punch to the gut. “Sebastian—”

He shook his head quickly, the movement mirroring the frustration that simmered in his gaze. “Don’t. Don’t tell me I’m wrong. I know who I was. I know the mistakes I made, Roxie. Every one of them has been burned into me. The parties, the drinking, the way I pushed everyone away, especially you, with my actions. And I’ve been paying for it every damn day since.”

The ballroom felt miles away, the music a mere whisper, and the laughter barely audible. It was just me and him.

My voice came out softer than I intended, trembling against my will. “So this is you making amends?”

His jaw clenched, but there wasn’t anger on his face. Only hurt—raw and open for me to see.

“No. This isn’t about penance. This is about doing something that matters. Something real. But all through the opening day, I just kept wishing you were there to see it. Because I know you would have loved it.”

I blinked fast, trying to hold myself steady, but my chest ached at the honesty in his voice. “I saw it. Hallie took me the other day. What you’ve done is incredible, Seb.”

“You went?” His voice cracked slightly.

I nodded, my throat tight. “I think Hallie and James may have been scheming. The first time I saw it, I walked by with Nate. I didn’t know it was yours. I am so proud of you.”

At the mention of Nate’s name, jealously flickered across Sebastian’s face.

“We’re not together,” I told him, wanting to ease how he was feeling despite myself. “I told him we wouldn’t work out a couple of months back. I think he loved my family more than me.”

Sebastian’s shoulders shifted ever so slightly, as his posture relaxed. As if he wanted to speak, his lips parted, but nothing came out.

“I can’t tell you how many nights I thought about calling you,” he admitted. “But then I’d picture you with him, moving on, happier without me. That thought gutted me every time. So, hearing you say his name …” He shook his head, a mirthless smile tugging at his mouth. “I guess I deserved the punch.”

A sudden, intense ache burned inside of me. “Sebastian—”

“No,” he whispered, his gaze holding mine with an unshakable intensity. “You don’t owe me anything. Least of all, an explanation.”

“I got your emails,” I whispered.

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “How? You blocked me.”

“I unblocked you a week ago,” I admitted. Every emotion I’d been feeling after having read those emails was bubbling up through my chest, constricting my throat until it felt almost impossible to speak. But I had to get these words out. “I read all of them. And I need you to know how proud of you I am.”

Faintly, the sounds of the gala returned, yet it was still just the two of us. We were in our own orbit, and every word pulled us closer to a gravity I wasn’t sure I could resist anymore.

“That means a lot, Roxie,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He shifted closer, his hand hovering at my elbow before he pulled it back again, like he was afraid to touch me and this would all dissolve into an argument once more.

“I never expected you to read them,” he breathed. “I just needed somewhere for all the things I wanted to say to you to go. All the things I couldn’t tell anyone else but you.”

My eyes burned as a few tears escaped down my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to contain them. “I’m not sure if I should be sorry or sad for not reaching out over the past months.”

“Neither,” he said. “Because I think we needed it. Or at least I did. To get my head on straight. But I never stopped thinking about you the entire time. I don’t think I ever will.”