Chapter 20
Bex
Theo forces me out of bed at an indecently early hour, smirking as I stumble around the living room, bleary-eyed. “It’s easier for you,” I say, flipping him off as I put on my running shoes. “You’re still on London time.”
“You must have another friend on London time,” he says, “because someone’s blowing up your phone.” He slides it toward him, the kind of gross invasion of privacy I thought only I’d resort to. “Who the fuck is Brian and why is he sending you all this rubbish?”
“Are you reading my texts?”
“Obviously,” he says without apology. “That’s how I know my wife is getting texts from someone named Brian with whom she has clearly been intimate.”
I jump up and snatch my phone away from him. “You know, you’re awfully wishy-washy about when you want to play the ‘my wife’ card. I don’t notice you referencing that when I ask about your complication.”
“Rebecca,” he says, nostrils flaring, “you could ruin the entire fucking show if you’re meeting random guys when we’re—”
“He’s not a random guy,” I reply. “We dated on and off for like two years. And you’re not really my husband, so stop reading my texts.”
“Just don’t fuck things up,” he barks, heading for the door. If he were anyone else, I’d say he sounded jealous.
We run in surly silence. I’m annoyed at him for doing exactly what I did on the way to London. He’s annoyed for reasons that still aren’t clear.
“Is Brian the guy who took your passport?” he asks. We’re a mile in and he isn’t even breathing heavily, whereas I’m pretty sure I have at least one collapsed lung.
“I’ll answer if you’ll slow down,” I gasp. I wouldn’t be inclined to answer his questions except I’ll say anything to make this run get easier or stop entirely.
“Fine,” he says, slowing.
“I’ll answer if we can walk.”
He rolls his eyes skyward. “You have got to get in better shape, Rebecca.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I say, stopping entirely, bent over with my hands pressed to my thighs. “I can promise you that I won’t be running six-minute miles during this marathon, so let’s just accept that we won’t be running it together.”
He waits until I start walking before he returns to the conversation. “You still haven’t answered the question.”
You still haven’t told me why you sound jealous.
I blow out a breath. “Fine, yes, Brian was the guy who stole my passport.”
“Why would you even speak to him again after what he did?”
I shrug. “We were together a long time. I’m sure he’s hoping this marriage to you will prove unsatisfactory in the most important ways and I’ll be desperate to get laid.”
His eye twitches. “Are you?”
“Am I?” I repeat. “Am I desperate to get laid? Is that what you’re asking?”
“Are you getting laid?” he growls.
Man, I should deeply resent that he’s asking such intrusive questions rather than being turned on by them.
I raise a brow. “You’re pretty inquisitive for a guy who won’t answer a single question about Miss Complicated. But no, at this precise moment I am not. I tried to meet someone off a dating app, before the wedding, but it went poorly.”
He gives me a half smile. “This I need to hear. If you’re admitting something went poorly, it must have been disastrous. What did you do?”
“I told him about my parents,” I admit, shrugging. “I didn’t mean to, but he asked if I got up to Jersey often to see my family, and I said, ‘No, not really, we don’t talk much.’ And obviously he then asked why, and I said, ‘Mostly because they’re dead.’ ”
He laughs. “Oh god, Bex, were you this bad at dating before or is this a recent development?”
“Well, I didn’t have dead parents to discuss before, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, that’s not exactly what I mean.” He grins and begins to jog slowly. “Here, let’s practice: Hi, you must be Bex. I’m Theo. Thanks for meeting on such short notice.”
“You’re Theo?” I ask, jogging along beside him, injecting my voice with as much disappointment as I can muster. “Your profile said you were six four.”
“My profile did not say I was six four. I’m six two, and at six two you don’t really have to add an inch.”
“Every man wishes he had an extra inch,” I say, elbowing him. “Most women wish he had an extra inch too, if you know what I mean.”
He gives me his sternest look. “Did you just make a joke about dick size five seconds into meeting me?”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up. Men love a woman willing to talk about dicks right away. I mean, that’s what we’re both here for, isn’t it?”
“They might love a woman willing to talk about dicks, but they’re less a fan of a woman complaining about their size.”
I lick my lips. “I wouldn’t have made that joke to just anyone. But I’ve seen you in a swimsuit. As I recall, you had nothing to worry about.”
“Bex.”
“Sorry. Theo, it’s lovely to meet you, even if you lied about your height in your profile. So you live with your mom?”
His brow furrows. “What? No, of course—”
“You said in your profile that you’ve been living with your mom. Since you got that second DUI.”
He fights a smile. “I’m beginning to wonder why you swiped right on me, Bex.”
“It was mostly because you claimed you were six four,” I reply.