Page 36 of Gilded Gods

I stare.

Blink.

Breathe.

“One more,” he says in a calm tone. “Breathe through your nose, hold it for a few seconds, and blow it out through your mouth.”

My vision is still slightly blurred. And my heart feels like it’s about to crash through my chest. The last few minutes are a blur. After I toasted my father’s upcoming nuptials, I went somewhere else.

Did I black out?

“I have everything ready for you,” Layla says. “You’re in room number three.”

I keep my head down and focus on my breathing.

“We’ll find it ourselves,” Atlas tells her. “Give us a minute.”

“Sure thing,” Layla lilts.

“Is everything okay?” Athena asks with a hint of concern in her tone. “You don’t look well, sweetie.”

I used to like it when she called me that. It sounded cute coming from Auntie Athena. But now, her nickname churns the food in my stomach, and I want to vomit.

“Yeah, Ma. We’re fine,” Atlas answers for me. “Ophelia just needs a minute, okay?”

Athena nods, lips pressed together, then follows Layla to her dressing room. We sit silently for a minute, with me breathing and Atlas chewing on his bottom lip. He’s not good at filling the silence, and I don’t mind that he’s shy.

I think it’s cute.

Layla is busy with Athena, who I hear talking loudly about how this is her second wedding and wants it to be perfect.

“I’m ready,” I say after a few minutes. “Let’s get this over with.”

Atlas shocks me by grabbing my hand and guiding me to Room 3. Inside, a handful of dresses are hanging on a rack. I enter the dressing room and stare at the beautiful gowns. It’s an early fall wedding, and the weather is still nice. So Athena chose various shades of peach, mauve, cabernet, and dusty rose.

“Take your pick,” Athena says from her room at the end of the hallway. “Whatever color you prefer, Ophelia.”

I like darker colors. Anything that conceals more of my curves and makes my waistline look slimmer. From eyeing them up, I’m confident the cabernet dress will win.

“I’ll wait over there.” Atlas points at an armchair to my left. “If you start to have another panic attack, say my name.”

“I didn’t have a panic attack.”

“I’ve seen Apollo have plenty of them,” he admits. “You were having one.” His hand touches my back, and at first, I jump. He continues rubbing my back, and I let him. “I know this is hard for you. But it’s going to be okay.”

“Do you want our parents to get married?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I want. My mom is happy with Belen.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I haven’t seen my dad smile in over a year. Not since before my mom got the cancer diagnosis.”

“This wedding isn’t about us.” He rubs more soothing circles on my back, gazing into my eyes like he wants to kiss me. “We’re going to be a family whether we like it or not.”

A quick moment passes between us, and as if he realizes this is getting too intense, he lowers his hand. Then he steps back a few inches until his back almost touches the wall. We have plenty of distance between us now.

Atlas sits in the armchair and sets the leather sketchbook on his lap. He flips open to a new page and grabs the charcoal pencil from behind his ear.

His hands are never idle.

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