Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Teresa
T revor’s cabin wasn’t just a gorgeous house. It was my dream house—the exact interior I’d planned in my head and on my computer when house hunting. The huge, overstuffed armchairs with button details, the inviting leather couch, the soft throws, and textured cushions. The wall-to-wall bookshelves, the giant candle holders, and overlong velvet curtains. The room was full of things I’d pinned and dreamed of.
It made no sense. He’d stolen my dream job, made a fortune, and then stolen my dream house? I loved my little condo in the city because it was mine, but I’d never had the budget to create all this. I lived amongst mismatched second-hand items and cheap Ikea furniture. And Trevor had this ?
Was it possible our tastes were this aligned? Was my taste particularly masculine? My gaze drifted to the coral velvet armchair, and I shook my head. “Trevor?” I waited for him to look at me and as soon as he did, I picked up on the worry in his eyes. “Are we the same person?” I asked.
“What? Why?”
“Because this is exactly the house I would have created if I’d had the budget. Apart from maybe that mountain scenery, but honestly, now I’m thinking that was the one thing missing from my plans.” I gestured at the tall windows, sighing in awe.
His cheeks reddened. “No. It’s for you. It’s… what you showed me. Please don’t freak out. You told me about your dream board, remember? By the pool. You showed me those pictures, and I remembered your username. Of course. Dragonfly. And later, when I bought this place, I had no idea how to decorate. I don’t decorate… I don’t have preferences.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “So, I hired someone, and I gave them your board for reference.”
“So, you stole my dream and made it for yourself?” I stared at him in confusion, too many emotions fighting for my attention. Was I supposed to feel flattered or betrayed?
His voice turned frantic. “No! I did it for you. I told ye, I don’t have preferences. A couch is a couch. But I had to choose somethin’, and I thought if I chose what ye liked, then you’d… feel at home.” He wrung his hands, looking at them like he didn’t know who they belonged to. “Honestly, you were so hellbent on avoiding me back then that I didn’t think you’d ever see it. And in some weird way, it made me feel closer to you. But when I realized ye were going to see this, I came to my senses, and I knew it was a really stupid, really creepy idea.”
As if claiming defeat, he picked up a picture frame leaning on the wall, turned it around, and hung it up. It was an intricate drawing of a dragonfly and the most beautiful piece of art I’d ever seen.
I stared at it, then at him, lost for words. I felt so torn I could barely form a sentence in my head, let alone speak one. He’d taken my dream, my dream, and created it to feel closer to me?
“You do realize that I couldn’t create this dream, because I wasn’t on that team and didn’t get those tokens and that payout? My house looks nothing like this. I’ve never actually seen this in real life, only on my Pinterest board. That first picture?—”
“That was the one I asked the designer to run with. I thought it looked amazing.”
“So, you like this? It’s not just for me?”
His eyebrows pulled together. “It’s great! The couch is really comfortable. But you know I’m not a designer. I’ve never worried what my couch should look like, as long as I’m sharing it with people I love. I may not get much out of Pinterest, but I’ve visualized curling up on that couch with someone I love… and one day having my kids use it as a trampoline.”
Trevor exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “And now I’m freaking you out even more.”
“No! It’s… beautiful.” I raised my hands to my face. My cheeks were burning hot.
He took my coat and guided me to that cognac leather couch, adorned with soft throws. It felt surreal, like walking into my favorite Pinterest image come to life around me. I still didn’t know what to think, but I had to sit on that couch to confirm it was real. It received me like a cotton candy cloud, and I let out a reverent sigh. “Is this why you didn’t want me here? Because of the décor?”
Trevor got busy with the fireplace, facing away from me. “Kind of.”
I caught a whiff of lighter fluid, then the smell of woodsmoke as the logs were licked by flames. I’d forgotten how soothing the sound of a crackling fire was on a cold day.
With the fire going, he joined me on the couch, which startled me so much that I jumped up. “I’ll just take a look around, okay?” I said breathlessly, wandering over to the window.
The tall, paneled feature windows offered a vast mountain view, including a glimpse of the snowcapped Rockies. We were still very close to town. Beyond the strip of snow-dusted forest, I could see a glimpse of the town center, with a hint of pink on the lamp posts.
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected from Trevor’s house, but it wasn’t this. Walking around the room felt surreal, yet I couldn’t help it: I loved this place. He’d created the haven I’d always dreamed about. It was perfect.
I walked across the room to the open-plan kitchen, studying its tasteful details. It wasn’t directly lifted from my dream board, but perfectly matched the look of the living area. If I’d come across a picture of it somewhere, I would have pinned it. I ran my fingers along the cool stone countertops, imagining how nice it could be to cook with this much space. No need to stack countertop shelves onto every available square inch. There was ample space, a giant pantry, and overhead cabinets to hold everything you needed.
My city mortgage was huge, yet my apartment was tiny. Even if I saved for years, I couldn’t create this look in such a small space. It’d always look boxy and crammed.
Driven by curiosity, I kept walking, heading towards the doorway leading to the bedroom. It turned out to be a door to another, smaller living area that led to three bedrooms. Two were empty, but the master had a king-sized bed and a dresser. The Pinterest stalking didn’t extend to the décor around here. The bed seemed high quality, but the room had nothing else. No cushions, chairs, rugs, or art. Not even curtains. Just white sheets, white walls and a lot of floor space.
Trever appeared behind me.
“You still working on these?” I asked.
“The designer said she needs direction, and I didn’t have enough visuals to go on.”
“I didn’t have any bedrooms on my Pinterest board?”
It was almost too absurd to say out loud, but he nodded. I took a breath and stepped in, looking at the stark white walls surrounding the huge bed. White on white. Even the scenery outside was white.
“Your bed needs a headboard,” I said. “And you need some kind of curtains.”
“I know.”
“A rug.”
“Uhuh.”
“And a chair, maybe?—”
“I know what normally goes in a bedroom, Teresa. I just didn’t know which ones to choose.”
He looked so stressed that my heart lurched. I stepped closer, placing my hands on his huge chest. “Would you like me to put something on a board for you?”
His gaze darted around the room, as if searching for an escape. “I know I messed up. And I promise I’ll list all that crap on eBay and replace it with random stuff ye’d never look twice at on Pinterest. I’ll get fifty beanbag chairs and cover the walls with posters and?—”
I covered his mouth, horrified. “Shh. Stop talking. The gorgeous couch will hear you!”
“I promise I’m not this creep,” he said as soon as I removed my hand. “I was going through something, but it’s over now. I will get rid of it. I?—”
I grabbed him by the arms. “Chill, Trevor. What you did here is super weird, but it’s also sweet. I think it’s one of those things that is simultaneously both. If I’d seen this last week, before we spent the night together, I would have thought it was some kind of sick power play.” He stiffened under my touch, but I held on. “But I feel like I know you a little better now, and maybe it’s still odd, but not that creepy. I know you didn’t do this to gloat.”
“Of course not! What would I gloat about? Being a dick to you? Being possessive? I didn’t want ye to work with Gavin, but I had no right to influence the outcome.”
“You really didn’t want me around, Gavin, huh?” I thought back to our earlier conversations, trying to make sense of it. I’d never believed those arguments. It had sounded like something he’d cooked up after the fact to make himself sound like a hero.
“I’ve had that feeling about a couple of other guys before, and they both turned out to be rotten eggs, so I thought I had some sort of psychic ability. Turns oot I was just a jealous idiot.”
“What kind of rotten eggs?”
“A scam artist who worked on my nan, a long time ago. I remember telling my parents there was something off about him and they finally decided to look him up. And then this high school teacher I had, who was having affairs with students. He’d been going for years without getting caught.”
“Did you catch him?”
He shrugged. “I like to think I helped. I followed him a couple of times and picked up on some hints. I was a young lad, so it took me a while to make sense of it. But I was friends with the girl he was seeing, and she told me some stuff. I finally convinced her to talk to the guidance counselor, and the guy got caught. It took forever, though. I’m patient, but I still remember the frustration.”
A shiver ran through me as I thought about my own youth. I’d been fighting for justice and run out of patience. “I’m glad they caught him.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m not as patient as you,” I confessed, leading us back to the living room. “I wish I was. Revenge is a hollow victory.”
I sat on the couch, pulling my striped legs against my chest. He remained standing, his tall frame hovering over me. “Are you hungry? I could fix us some lunch.”
“Sure. Do you need help?” I was about to get up, but he waved me off and continued into the kitchen.
I sank into the plush cushions, listening to the sounds of cooking. Faucet running, pots clanging, the fridge door smacking open… Trevor was out to impress me, and I still couldn’t decide how I felt about it. For one, I couldn’t remember ever listening to anyone cook for me, not since childhood. Suze cooked for us sometimes, but I usually joined in.
I had to admit, it felt nice to be taken care of. My whole life, I’d been the capable one. The independent one. At work, I’d looked out for Bess. But she didn’t need my help anymore, not like she’d used to. I was happy for her and grateful that they’d saved my ass after I lost my job at Wilde. Yet I was still getting used to the shift in dynamics. We had an exciting little business, I had a good salary and interesting work, but I was the odd one out. Not a shareholder. No skin in the game. Even Lee had some shares, and he only worked part time.
I was also the only one with no access to any wealth. Trevor with his crypto money, Lee with a bit less crypto money, Charlie with his grandmother’s backing, and Bess now married to him. I was the one who looked after herself with no lucky breaks. Trevor had stolen the only lucky break I’d ever been gunning for.
So, what the hell was I supposed to think of him?
“Bon appetite!” He set an impressive egg salad sandwich on the coffee table. “Coffee?”
“Is your coffee better than Cozy Creek Confectionary’s?” I asked.
“About a hundred times better.”
He left to make them, and after a few minutes, returned with two steaming cups.
“Here you go.” He set the perfectly cocoa-dusted macchiato in front of me and took his black coffee to the adjacent armchair.
I shouldn’t have been too surprised that he knew my coffee order. It had come up enough times in the office, with one of us fetching drinks for everyone else. Still, I couldn’t have named anyone else’s drink preference, not with any confidence. Bess ordered a different drink every time now that she felt financially secure enough to even order anything. Charlie was usually the one who ordered and paid, and Trevor… what did Trevor drink? I should have known, and my cheeks warmed from shame as I thought of all the ways I’d been ignoring him.
He hadn’t hated me like I’d hated him, and that made my insides churn so hard I didn’t know which organ was where. Trevor had never hated me.
“This is perfect,” I said between sips, my voice thick and scratchy. “You must have an amazing memory. I don’t think we’ve had coffees together in a long time.”
He laughed. “My memory is both shit and selective, but I pay attention to what matters to me. Sometimes, I write it down.”
I tried to make sense of it. “I understand writing about that night at the pool … but mundane stuff like coffee orders?”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Remember the designer pub quiz?”
I nodded, thinking of my victorious night. I’d won the main prize—a brand-new pack of Pantone color swatches.
“You were naming all those weird colors, and then you got to Tyrian and said, ‘my personal favorite.’”
“Did I?”
“Well, I wrote it down right after.”
“Why?”
“I just wanted to know things about you.”
I thought back to that time. “But it was after that night. After… it all went to hell.”
He shrugged. “I still wanted to know about you. That never changed.”
“I was practically freezing you out that night.”
He set down his cup, smiling. “It was impressive.”
I shook my head, sinking back into the couch. “How do you not lose hope? If someone acted like that towards me, I’d file them away and move on.”
He watched me intensely. “Maybe I have a masochistic streak.”
I didn’t buy it. “No. You believe. You kept believing… How?”
He was quiet for a long moment, staring into his cup. When he spoke again, his words brimmed with raw honesty. “I had hope. As long as you hated me, you had feelings for me. Even when you were dating Rich the Dick, you had enough energy to actively avoid me. And you talked to me, every day.”
“It’s our work chat!” I argued, but the truth sat heavy on my chest.
I relied on our private chat more than I wanted to admit. Trevor was always there. He never left my messages on ‘read’. He knew how to diffuse the tension when clients got on my nerves. He knew how to cheer me up. With him, the work felt different. Lighter.
“I know,” he said. “But it was my lifeline. As long as we had that private chat, I had a little hope.”
I thought about it. I sometimes chatted with Bess, but I didn’t have a private chat with Charlie. There was the group chat, and then there was us. Me and Trevor. The job that had prompted us to start that chat was long gone. Either of us could have closed the channel. It would have made sense, given we all worked together on most jobs.
“You apologized, and I forgave you. So, of course I was talking to you.”
“And every time we were in the same room, you acted like I didn’t exist. It takes a lot of effort to ghost someone in person.”
I grimaced. “I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to dredge up anything.” I took a bite of my sandwich. It was so delicious tears rose to my eyes.
“I figured,” he said. “And that tells me we have something, even if it’s buried under… I didn’t know if ye’d ever want to look under that rock, but I knew ye weren’t indifferent towards me.”
I swallowed my perfect mouthful, washing it down with a sip of perfect coffee. “That’s quite the rose-tinted, half-full glass you’re holding there.”
“Well. Answer me this. If I died, how would you feel? Happy? Indifferent?”
My chest pinched so hard that it was difficult to breathe. In that moment, I felt it—the raw affection I’d buried under all the hurt and anger. I felt the need and desperation, and the black hole he would leave behind. Had it been there all this time?
I couldn’t form words, so I simply shook my head.