(#2 in the Undying Love series)
SEQUEL TO 'HOLDING ON & LETTING GO'
***
At seventeen, Troye had his heart shattered, but it was put back together by someone new.
At twenty, Troye had his heart rippe...
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"Hi, honey!"
Mom swept across the threshold of my house, clutching a casserole to her chest as her other arm circled around my shoulders to hug me. "Wow, it smells divine in here."
I laughed while avoiding a mouthful of her hair. "Hi, Mom."
"Troye," Dad greeted with more grace than his wife. He hugged me tightly, "You're looking well, son."
"Not bad yourself, old man."
"Watch it." He smirked dangerously. "I may be in my fifties but I can still brawl with the best of them."
Mom thrust the casserole into my hands and I laughed again. "Mom, the whole point of inviting you over for dinner is that I'm making dinner."
"I know," she said, shrugging her coat off. Dad appeared behind her to hang it up on a hook. "This is for you so you have something in the fridge this week."
"I know how to cook."
She poked my side. "You don't need to be underweight to model designer clothes. You'll look just as beautiful at ten pounds more."
"That's why I have a dietician, and a nutritionist, and personal trainer, and-"
"It's Tuscan white bean," Mom announced proudly, heading off down the hall with a bounce in her step. "Your favorite."
I sent a look to Dad, who shrugged. He'd already warned me since arriving home that Mom was going to coddle me for a while. Maternal instincts and all that.
So, I shook my head with a chuckle and followed after her.
We entered the kitchen. Dad handed me a bottle of wine and sat down at the counter. "How's work going?"
"It's going well," I put the wine in the fridge to chill. "Armani's talking about renewing my contract for next season and-"
Mom gasped from the living room, causing both Dad and I to look over at her. She was standing in front of the wall beside the sofa, gazing up in wonder at the three portraits hanging on the wall. "Oh, sweetheart," She cupped a hand over her mouth, "these are gorgeous."
The photographs in question were three monochrome portraits of myself shot by Vanity last spring. I'd blown them up on large canvases and had them hung on the wall a week after moving in. They were one of the first shoots I did in London and therefore held a special place in my heart.
I smiled as I watched my mother. "Thanks, Mom."
My eyes followed her gaze as she examined the other photographs around my living room. There were plenty of our family photos displayed in frames across the mantel and hung on the walls in the hallway. But that's not what her gaze lingered on.
The wall opposite my portraits also featured three blown-up photographs: Mom on her first world tour at nineteen, Dad seated in his first office after he opened his own record label, and Aria holding her first Grammy. Three of the most monumental times in my family members' lives.
