Page 112 of After Midnight

He just nods, a small smile on his face, his dark gaze following me as I drift through the studio in a daze.

“Seb,” I whisper, shaking my head as I turn to face him. “What . . . ? When . . . ?”

He pushes off the wall, his shoulders rising in a shrug. “I rented it a while back. After I saw how excited you were . . . But I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything. I just wanted it to be here if you wanted. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” I say back to him, a small panicked laugh slipping out of me. “Seb, this place is . . .”

It’s fucking amazing. It’s so much better than I realized that day when I peered through the window. And it would make a perfect pole studio. The early-evening light cuts through the tall windows, turning everything into a hazy shimmering gold. It’s easy to picture how I’d decorate the space, where the poles would go, their chrome gleaming in the light as gauzy curtains billowed in the warm summer breeze.

But having a studio in LA would mean being here for good. Living here. Building a life here.

It would mean leaving the one I have in Vegas behind. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.

Seb steps up behind me, his hands finding my waist. He lowers his forehead to the top of my head and says softly, “It’s up to you, Rem. If you want it, it’s yours. And if not, that’s okay too. I’ll let it go.”

He lowers his head to my shoulder, and for a while, we stand there in the quiet, listening to the muffled rumble of cars slowly cruising down the road outside the studio. But inside, I’m definitely not quiet.

I’m a swirling mess of questions and possibilities and worries.

Will I ever go back to Caliber? I talked to management this morning, and I know James has been banned from the property, but . . . something uneasy still sits inside me. I told Seb that I never wanted to go back there again, but Caliber taught me so much about myself, and walking away from it won’t be as easy as that. It would be walking away from an entire lifestyle.

Plus, moving here would mean selling my condo. Leaving everything I’ve built behind. Leaving my home and my family.

But Riley would be here. This fall, she’s starting at Caltech. Which reminds me that I still haven’t saved up enough to pay for her freshman year. And that’s been my goal since she received her acceptance letter in the mail and called me in happy tears: Get Riley’s tuition covered, no matter what.

I hear her voice in my head: You don’t have to put your life on hold for me.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I try to wade through my thoughts and emotions enough to ask Seb one question.

“Do you want me here?”

Still standing behind me, he lets out a breath. His arms wrap around my waist, so I’m hugged to his chest, and he whispers, “So fucking bad.”

It feels like just as big a confession as when he told me he loves me. And both times, he spoke his words without any hesitation. Like he knows exactly what he wants.

But I’m afraid to admit what I want, to give it too much hope.

Slowly, I turn in Seb’s arms so I can look up into his eyes, which are golden brown in the evening sun. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

“The studio?” he asks, brow furrowing. “It’s a one-year lease, but—”

I shake my head, cutting him off. Then, quietly, I whisper, “Us.”

He blinks, looking surprised. Then his gaze settles on mine, in that knowing way that says he’s not afraid. “Then at least we’ll know we tried.” One of his hands comes up to cup my cheek, and his thumb brushes the aching mark left on my face, though the bruises are almost healed. “And I’d rather try than never know.”

I gaze up at him as his lips lift slowly into a smile. And I find myself smiling back.

Pushing up onto my toes, I press my mouth to his, soft and slow, then say, “I’ll think about it. I just need some time.”

He nods. “As much time as you need, Rem.”

chapter 53

Remi

ONCE I’M BACK IN VEGAS, I invite Riley over for dinner, and I finally tell her what happened at Caliber and why I needed some time away to clear my head. And after we hug and cry and I assure her that I’m fine, she asks me the question that I’ve been asking myself on repeat for the last week.

“What happens now?”