Chapter 58 Aslan
Aslan
Yep. It got awkward immediately.
Aitor’s eyes widened in a way I had never seen before—rare, unguarded surprise. On his right stood the girl he had loved for years. On his left stood the guy he was apparently dating in an attempt to forget her.
Timing, as usual, had a twisted sense of humor.
“Linnea,” Aitor said, and for the first time since I’d met him, he almost stuttered. “I didn’t know you’d be here…”
Worst possible caught-red-handed combination of words in human history.
Mirka stepped forward instantly, entirely unbothered. “I invited her. I knew you were coming. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Joe appeared beside us just in time to raise his glass with theatrical delight. “Surprise!”
Then his gaze shifted to me. His nose wrinkled.
“And what the hell are you doing here, Narnia?”
Before I could respond, Aitor wrapped an arm around my waist with deliberate calm. “I invited him.”
Mirka rolled her eyes so hard it was practically audible. “Duh, read the room, genius.”
Joe’s expression shifted from mockery to dawning realization. His eyebrows shot up. “Wait. You mean… you and him? You and Garrett’s arch-enemy number one?” He grinned wickedly. “Oh my God. This is going to be so much fun. Does he know?”
“It’s not Garrett’s business who I spend time with,” Aitor replied evenly.
Joe looked delighted by that answer.
The attention shifted back to Linnea, who had recovered her composure with infuriating grace. She turned to me with a polite smile. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too,” I said.
“I should go say hello to your parents,” she added, glancing toward Joe and Mirka.
“I’ll go with you,” Mirka said quickly, grabbing her arm.
“Talk to you later, Linnea. It’s good to see you,” Aitor said.
His voice was steady, but I could feel the tension through his arm where it rested against my back. His fingers were trembling slightly.
“Are you okay?” I asked once they moved away.
He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t know she was coming.”
“I can take a cab back,” I said quietly. “If you need to talk to her. Or… sort things out.”
His head snapped toward me. “No.”
The word came sharper than expected.
“You are not here as my rebound date,” he continued, stepping closer and holding my face gently between his hands. “I brought you because I want you with me. I’m happy you’re here. She just threw me off a little. I’m sorry.”
There was no performance in his eyes. Just honesty.
I leaned my forehead against his. “I understand. I just wanted to help. But I want to be here too. For whatever you need.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I echoed.
Joe reappeared seconds later with two glasses. “Drink. Both of you. Before my grandmother starts interrogating you about grandchildren.”
That broke the tension.
Soon the family gathered toward the center of the room. Joe’s father delivered a speech filled with gratitude and dramatic hand gestures, thanking staff, family, investors, and “the beautiful chaos that makes life worth celebrating.” Applause followed. Laughter spilled easily. Music began to play—bright, fast, unapologetically joyful.
Dinner was buffet style, with tables lined with dishes that looked like paintings. Fresh pasta glistening under warm light. Roasted vegetables grown locally. Platters of seafood. Bread that smelled like heaven.
Joe caught me staring. “Everything’s organic,” he said proudly. “I grow half the herbs myself, actually.”
“In Massachusetts?” I asked.
He grinned. “Onsite, a few hectares of rare, imported herbs for every need and occasion.”
“Wow, I'd love to see it! Sounds incredible.” I was honestly impressed.
“On campus too. Secret greenhouse. Don’t tell anyone.”
I blinked. “You’re serious?”
He nodded. “Family tradition. You build something, you respect the ingredients.”
I studied him for a second. He shifted awkwardly.
“Look,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. “About the last two months. I was a dick.”
That was… unexpected.
“You were,” I agreed.
He snorted. “Fair. But you’re alright, Rivers.”
“You’re tolerable, Valsecchi.”
“High praise.”
We clinked glasses.
The music grew louder, faster. People were already pulling each other toward the dance floor. Mirka grabbed my wrist before I could protest and spun me into the crowd. Laughter surrounded me. Strangers smiling. Hands clapping in rhythm. Aitor grabbed my hands, guiding me through the first round. Then, we quickly switched partners.
I caught sight of Aitor dancing with Joe’s mother, then his grandmother, both of them beaming. He looked free. Younger somehow.
At one point he found me again, hands sliding around my waist as we moved with the music. “Having fun?” he asked.
“Actually? Yes.”
He smiled, and something inside me warmed in a way that wasn’t chaotic or sharp.
It was easy.
I was stolen this time by Mirka, as we did the steps and turns, while Aitor was paired with Linnea by chance. Suddenly, the song shifted into something softer. Slower. Couples naturally gravitating toward each other.
Aitor’s eyes went to me, uncomfortable, as Linnea stepped forward.
For a fraction of a second, his expression changed. Not longing exactly. Not regret. Just… history.
She offered her hand, and he hesitated only briefly before taking it.
They moved together effortlessly from years of shared music and memory translating into motion.
I didn’t feel anger.
I didn’t feel jealousy.
I felt… understanding.
When the song ended, they didn’t immediately rejoin the others. They stepped toward the edge of the terrace instead, leaning closer to talk.
Aitor glanced back at me once.
I nodded.
It was okay.
I stepped away from the dance floor, moving toward the outer gardens, where the noise softened into distant music and warm night air.
That was when Joe appeared beside me.
“You okay?” he asked.
I almost laughed.
If I had a dollar for every time someone had asked me that in the last month, I’d probably be able to afford my own tuition.
“I’m fine,” I said.
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.
“Mirka didn’t know about you and Aitor,” he said after a second. “Hell, most of us didn’t.”
I nodded. “I don’t blame you. Two minutes ago, neither did I.”
That earned a small huff of amusement from him.
We drifted away from the noise, toward the side of the property where the greenhouses stretched in neat rows. Even in the early evening they glowed faintly from interior heat lamps, the glass fogged softly against the cool air.
“You understand what went on between them?” Joe asked.
“I think so,” I said. “He has history. I have… history. There’s stuff that needs closure. Clarity. I just…” I hesitated, surprising myself with how easily the words came. “I don’t always understand myself.”
Joe shoved his hands into his pockets and walked beside me in silence for a few steps.
“I get it,” he said finally. “I feel confused half the time too. It’s not easy to know what you want. Or who. There’s too much pressure. Family. Expectations. Legacy.”
He said the last word with mild disdain.
We stepped into one of the greenhouses. Warmth wrapped around us immediately. The air smelled like earth and green life. Rows of herbs. Small, bright fruits hanging low. Fresh sprouts pushing through soil.
“My nonno used to say most herbs are medicinal,” Joe continued casually. “If you use them right. They’re healing. Natural connections with ourselves. Our ancestors used them to clear their heads. Even to talk to God.”
I glanced at him. “Are you about to recruit me into some cult?”
He grinned faintly. “Relax. I’m not that interesting.”
He crouched near one of the beds and picked up something small growing at the edge of a shaded patch. A wild little mushroom. Pale. Unassuming.
“These,” he said lightly, handing it to me, “have been used for generations as… mind cleansers.”
I stared at it in my palm.
“You ever want clarity,” he added smoothly, “you should try one.”
Then he straightened and stepped back toward the party lights without another word.
I stood there for a second, the music drifting through the greenhouse glass.
Across the lawn, I could see Aitor in the distance talking to Linnea as they rejoined the others. He was smiling at something Joe’s grandmother had said.
My thoughts shifted anyway.
To Garrett.
To what he meant to me, even when he was impossible.
The way Aitor and I were starting to connect, even though he still felt, we still felt for someone else.
But did we? Did I?
The way I couldn’t seem to tell the difference between loyalty, longing, fear, and habit anymore.
Clarity.
I looked down at the mushroom in my hand.
This is stupid, I thought.
Then I shrugged.
And put it in my mouth.