I didn't think I'd ever slept so well in my life. I mean sure, it was far and away the most comfortable bed I'd ever slept in, but being wrapped up in Devon's arms, strong but so gentle, was like being up on a cloud. Just us, far away from everyone and everything, bathed in warm sunlight.

"Do we have to get up?" he mumbled into the top of my head.

I let out a wistful sigh, arching my back into him. A deep moan rumbled in his chest, and I felt him reach down for my hand, lacing his fingers in mine. "We told your mom we'd join them for brunch."

"No, you told her," he groaned.

"It's the right thing to do." I wiggled myself out of his arms so I could roll over and face him. I reached up to gently caress his cheek, and just like he had before, he leaned into my palm, easing his eyes shut in a way that told me he was safe and comfortable. He turned and pressed a kiss to my palm, then began moving his mouth slowly down to my wrist, tasting my skin with every soft kiss.

"Easy big guy," I smirked before sliding myself out of bed. "Later maybe, if you're a good boy."

He groaned again and flopped onto his back, reaching over for my pillow and putting it over his face.

"I'm always a good boy," came muffled from under the pillow. "It's them."

I knew this weekend was hard for him, but I also knew that somewhere deep down, he wanted his family's approval, and I'd do everything I could to make sure he got it. He deserved it - not even because it was his family, but he deserved a chance to start healing old wounds.

I swiped the pillow off of his head. "I'm going to be right there with you the whole time. You can squeeze my hand under the table if you need to remind yourself of that."

He opened one eye and squinted up at me. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Even though it was just brunch at the main house with Devon's immediate family, the bougie side of my intuition said we couldn't just roll up in lounge clothes. I'd packed a long sweater dress (which I bought from Reformation almost immediately after seeing Jo wear it on Maddox Madsen's show), paired it with some boots, and I strong-armed Devon into not wearing a hoodie. He looked good in anything, but wearing a nicer shirt might have avoided some aggravating passive-aggressiveness.

Devon had explained to me that the family's chef, Lorenzo (yes, their own chef - at this point, nothing surprised me), was usually at their Upper East Side penthouse, but he'd come out to the Hamptons with them this weekend and was in the midst of preparing a brunch more elaborate than any I'd seen at any restaurant in Manhattan. The intoxicating scent of fresh pastries and pancakes wafted over me as soon as we walked into the kitchen. On the island were stacks of bagels, caviar and lox, steak and eggs, and apparently every fruit known to mankind. Way too much food for six people.

Devon led me past the kitchen and into the more casual dining room, where the entire family was already sat at the long oakwood table. The blown glass light fixtures were all dimmed, giving way to the natural sunlight that spilled in from the big open windows overlooking that massive front yard space, the patio and the pool. There were two empty seats at the end beside Joelle and her fiance - about as far away from the head of the table...and Devon's father.

It was the first time I'd seen him up close, and he was every bit as intimidating as I expected him to be. His hands were folded in front of his mouth while Devon's mother spoke animatedly about something, and every so often he'd nod or shake his head at her. When his dark gaze came over us, Devon stiffened beside me. They had the same eyes.

"Cute dress," Joelle remarked as I sat down beside her.

"Thanks."

Devon leaned his head in. "She's only saying that so you'll compliment her dress."

"You're so rude," Joelle scoffed as she flicked her napkin off of her plate. Devon snorted in response.

"I do like her dress," I added. In keeping with the white, bride-to-be theme of the weekend for her, it was simple and silky - but like her brother, I was sure she probably looked good in anything.

"So Sienna," Devon's mother zeroed in on me as food was being served, waving an expensive crystal champagne glass full of what I guessed must have been Dom Pérignon and orange juice freshly squeezed and directly imported from Valencia. "Now that we're not so inundated with guests, I would love to hear more about you, and how you and Devon seemed to find each other."

Joelle leaned over to me and lowered her voice. "In Emma language, that means she finds it hard to believe you two run in the same circles."

Even though Joelle didn't have the backhanded passive-aggressiveness in her tone that Devon's mother did, I couldn't quite pinpoint if she also found it hard to believe or not.

I put on the most polite smile I had in my people-pleasing arsenal. "I'm the media liaison for the band. I work mostly with Raf, helping book certain events and interviews. The band is performing on NPR's Tiny Desk next week, and they were the musical guest on the Maddox Madsen show last week."

"I saw it. It was interesting." Joelle nodded to herself. I wasn't sure what kind of interesting she meant - her tone was still hard to decipher. "I didn't think you'd like that kind of attention, Dev."

Devon shrugged it off as he stabbed at his steak and eggs, cracking one of the yolks and spilling its guts all over the fine China plate. "It was a good thing to do for the band."

Joelle smirked. "No, I mean that musical genre challenge you did. I guess you didn't let your education go completely down the drain."

I was sure that to Joelle, she thought that maybe she was trying to make a joke, but it didn't land with this crowd. I slid a glance towards Devon's parents, where his father had set his fork down with a bit more force than necessary and his mother took a long sip of that expensive mimosa.

Devon leaned forward, resting his elbows onto the table as he narrowed a glare on Joelle. "You know, I may not be a doctor, but I'm just as good at what I do as you are, and mine didn't take an extra six years of school."

"Well, you would have been in school longer had you not chosen to give up your musical education."

I wasn't sure what I expected when I heard Devon's father for the first time, his voice poised but commanding as he fixed his gaze on Devon, and suddenly it was as if there was nobody else in the room but them.

"I always loved going to your recitals," Devon's mother broke the silence with a pinched smile that didn't quite reach the corners of her eyes. "Seeing you in your little tux. So many people would come up to me after, telling me just how extraordinary you were."

Underneath the table, I felt Devon intertwine his fingers in mine and squeeze my hand, just like I'd told him to.

"People still do that," I chimed in, forcing a bright smile. "All time, pretty much after every show. The band is popular now for a reason."

She smiled at me, there was something gentle in her eyes that I hadn't noticed before.

Joelle had taken to scrolling through her phone, and when I glanced over, I saw the Green Inferno's Instagram page that I had worked so hard to curate. "So what, the band has almost 50,000 followers now? I suppose that's somewhat reputable. When do you get the verification checkmark?"

"Anyone can get a checkmark now, you pay for it." Joelle's fiance Peter chimed in, and for a moment I had almost forgotten he was there - at least until he directed his attention at me. "I'm surprised your team hasn't pursued that yet, it offers legitimacy."

I could tell right away he was one of those uber-smart guys - it didn't seem like he was trying to be mean, but when people were that smart, it took up space where some social cues and graces would be. He exuded problem-solver vibes.

"It's just me, and...I'm working on it." I forced another smile, and my cheeks were starting to hurt. "Anyway, the band has some exciting things going on that are a priority. Right, Dev?"

Devon sat back in his chair, keeping his gaze down at the fork he twirled in his other hand. "We've started studio sessions for our debut full-length album."

"How long does that take?" Joelle asked.

"We don't have a set timeline," he replied, keeping his tone low. "I just want it to be perfect."

I squeezed his hand again.

"And I'm sure it will be by your standards, sweetie," his mother cooed in that passive-aggressiveness. She took another sip of her drink.

"It's just a shame that your talent is consumed by people who don't appreciate it. It's a waste," Devon's father added in that infuriatingly even, almost robotic tone. Like he wasn't even speaking to his own son.

Devon scoffed. "According to who?"

"Your family, your world-class instructors, your professors at Juilliard, our connections at the Philharmonic." It was the first time his voice had shown even a hint of inflection. "But instead, you're doing all this for fifty thousand people. That doesn't even fill Madison Square Garden. That's less than the population of a New Jersey suburb. Is that worth it? You think that's where you're going to find success?"

Devon blew out a heavy breath, and his voice cracked as he spoke. "I don't have to sit here and listen to you pick apart my life choices."

He aggressively scraped his chair back, threw his napkin onto his dish, and stormed out of the kitchen. The sound of the front door slamming was what kicked me into gear, seemingly the only one who even cared that he just left.

My instinct was to follow him, but after one step, I realized something. Wounds could be healed by people who didn't inflict them, and sometimes forcing those who have inflicted them to heal them only made the wounds worse. I was done trying to get these people to like me, or him - there was no point. Devon didn't need these people in his life. He had us. I reeled back around to face them.

"You'd know it's worth it to him if you paid one speck of attention to him or anything he does," I tasted venom in my words as I spoke. "He's more brilliant than any of you even realize, and that's because he's actually doing something he loves instead of what you've forced him to do. One day you're going to regret sidelining yourself from his life, but he won't regret your absence. You won't be missed."

I left the room to stunned silence with my head up, taking care to slam the front door behind me like Devon had. When I walked back over to the bay house, Devon was leaning on the driver's side of the car with his sunglasses on.

We had packed the car before we went over to brunch knowing we were going to leave after brunch regardless - we were just making an earlier than planned exit.

"Let's go," I told him as I walked around to the passenger side. "This place is toxic."

He got in the car without a word, and he stayed silent as he white-knuckled the steering wheel the entire ride back into Manhattan, blasting his heavy music.

When we stopped at a red light on 2nd Ave, I slid a cautious glance over at him. His nose was red, and he reached up underneath his sunglasses to quickly wipe away a few stray tears before they stained his cheeks. I'd never had my heart broken, but I had to imagine it felt something like watching the person you loved cry.

I reached over to lower the music slightly as he parked the car at the curb in front of my apartment.

"I'm so sorry," I told him, trying to swallow down my own tears as I turned in the seat to fully face him.

He sniffled and rubbed his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. "For what?"

"For making you feel like going to that stupid brunch was the right thing to do," I sighed and sat back in the seat. "You should never have been treated like that. I hope you know nothing they said was even remotely true. They don't know anything about you or what you can do, and that's on them, not you. And you know what? Fuck them. You don't need them. You have a family. You have the band. You have me. I..."

He finally willed himself to look over at me, his cheeks ruddy and his shirt wrinkled and his hair a mess...and still the most perfect person I'd ever laid eyes on.

"I love you."

I heard him audibly gasp for air, as if he'd broken the surface after almost drowning. "You...what?"

"I love you," I repeated with more assurity, because I was sure.

Me, who'd planned my future within an inch of insanity, hadn't planned for him, and here I was, more sure of him than anything else in my life.

Devon dropped his gaze into his lap, absentmindedly tracing the constellation of stars tattooed on the back of his hand. "I think I've loved you from the moment you spoke to me. I'm not sure I knew that's what it was but...you've always had a hold on me."

"And you've always had a hold on me. Aggravatingly so." I forced out a chuckle past tears that were now freely flowing down my face.

This time when he looked over at me, tears glistened in his eyes, but he didn't look sad. Instead, he smiled. 

⋆ ★

this chapter would not have been completed without the help of my soulmate w1ldflow3r - you're p1 always mate

I NEVER KNOW WHAT TO DO AFTER I LOVE YOU CONFESSIONS LIKE WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S STILL SIX CHAPTERS (yes i've added two more chaps to my original outline i don't want it to be over yet). DRAMA? ANGST? WHO'S TO SAY???