Page 86 of Aria

I sucked in a mouthful of air, almost choking on its density.

Was that an invitation? A starting point? It felt as if Noah had just handed me a box of crayons and a blank sheet of paper and told me to get to work.

I decided to gift him with the safest answer. “I like us the way we are.”

It was the truth, after all, but the spark seemed to dim in Noah’s eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Right,” he said in a low voice.

Forcing a smile, I wondered what Rosa saw. What Devon saw.

What Noah saw.

What kind of grand artistry unfolded on their pieces of paper?

I was too afraid to ask—a coward, terrified to give life to any of the illustrations.

“Beth seems nice.”

The words fell out unplanned, and I wasn’t sure why I said them—to change the subject? Redirect the conversation?

To hear from Noah what he really thought of the mysterious blonde upstairs?

“She is,” he acknowledged.

Noah didn’t indulge me. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t give into my passive aggressive attempt at questioning his intentions.

“Let’s get back to the party,” he muttered, pivoting away, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I nodded mutely.

Something was tugging at me… a vague emptiness. A sense of regret.

It felt as if I had missed an opportunity, or passed up a critical moment.

Whatever it was, it was over, because Noah swept past me without another word and disappeared upstairs.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

CHELSIE

The party eventually got back on track, despite Devon’s dramatic entrance and exit. The food was delicious, and I had never seen Sam happier. That was all that really mattered—it was the whole point. So, even with the break-up hovering over me like a black cloud, I tried my best to enjoy myself.

I said my goodbyes a few hours later and headed back to the condo to pack, flipping on the lights as I entered through the front door in futile hope that Devon would be inside waiting for me.

He wasn’t.

Sighing sadly, I moved through the condominium, tossing my purse onto the coffee table and kicking off my shoes. I pulled out my phone to see if Devon had contacted me, sucker-punched with disappointment when he hadn’t. My bottom lip slid between my teeth as I debated reaching out to him, but I hesitated when I heard a noise coming from the master bedroom.

I froze.

A familiar fear rattled my bones. I had been so preoccupied with this new development with Devon that I’d forgotten to be more cautious. I’d forgotten to be afraid.

I had forgotten about Ian’s shadow lurking around every corner.

As I approached the door to the bedroom, my bare feet tiptoed across the hardwood floor with caution, a tentative hand reaching for the knob. My heartbeats thrummed in my ears, trouncing my senses like a bass drum.

When I pushed the door open, a gasp fell out.

I propelled myself backward, flush against the far wall, as I came face-to-face with Ian Masterson.

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