Chapter 13 Opening Night #2
Catherine's mouth curved subtly, not quite a smile but close enough that Theo felt warmth bloom in her cheeks.
"It's not difficult if you don't panic."
"I wasn't panicking. I was applying appropriate force."
"Mm. That's what we're calling it?"
Theo opened her mouth to deliver some cutting response, something that would re-establish the banter that felt safer than acknowledging how good it felt to be standing this close to Catherine again.
But Catherine had turned on her heel, moving through her apartment with the candle held before her like she was navigating a cave system.
Theo followed, using the small light as her guide, watching Catherine's shadow stretch long against the walls.
They worked in silence, lighting candles and positioning them throughout the living room.
Catherine seemed to have a specific vision: votives on the coffee table, tea lights on the bookshelf, a larger pillar candle on the side table by the couch.
Each flame added incremental brightness, transforming the space from oppressive darkness into something warmer.
"I think that's enough," Catherine said finally, surveying their work. "Unless you want to turn my apartment into a fire hazard."
Theo gestured at the dozen flames scattered across various surfaces. "This is already a fire hazard. Your insurance company would have opinions."
"Good thing they're not invited," Catherine said over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Theo stayed where she was, listening to the sounds drifting through, the soft clink of glass, the pour of liquid, and a cabinet opening and closing. A moment later, Catherine reappeared with two wine glasses filled with what was, knowing her, an expensive red.
She held one out to Theo, and when their fingers met in the exchange it felt like something deliberate, both of them silently testing where the edges were after a week of distance.
Theo settled into the corner of the couch she’d occupied during their dinners, the familiar cushions giving just slightly, shaped by how often she’d curled there.
Catherine sat beside her, not at the couch's far end as Theo had half-expected, but close, near enough that Theo could smell her perfume mixing with the candles' beeswax scent.
Close enough that when Catherine shifted, adjusting her position, their knees brushed.
Theo could see the tension Catherine carried in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the wine glass with more force than necessary. Whatever confidence the phone call banter had provided seemed to have faded now that they sat in the same physical space.
"How have you been?" Catherine asked.
Theo took another sip of wine before responding, using the movement to buy herself time. "Okay. Busy. You know how it is."
"I don't, actually." Catherine turned her head to look at Theo directly, candlelight catching in her blue eyes. "But I'd like to. If you're willing to tell me."
The unexpected directness caught Theo off guard. She'd prepared herself for surface-level conversation, the kind that had started things between them all those months ago. But Catherine seemed determined to skip past comfortable deflection straight into territory that required actual honesty.
Theo exhaled. "Oh, you know. Morrison's still on my case about efficiency metrics, wants me to ‘treat 'em and street 'em’ like it's a factory line.
My parents text every day about Hopkins since the fellowship deadline's coming up.
" She paused, and her voice softened. "Harry's doing better, though.
He finally agreed to see the social worker after fighting me on it for months.
I have no idea what changed his mind, but it feels like something. "
She turned her wine glass slowly in her hands, and when she spoke again, the lightness had gone out of her voice. "But honestly, I've spent most of the week wondering whether I've managed to ruin the best relationship in my life." A short, humorless laugh escaped her. "So, that’s not been great."
Catherine's chest rose sharply as she sucked in a breath, "Theodora—"
"But what about you?" Theo interrupted, not ready yet to hear whatever Catherine was about to say. "How have you been?"
“Fine. Teaching. Playing." She paused, and something in the quiet of it made Theo look at her properly.
"Simon showed up Tuesday night. He'd been at a showcase.
He was drunk, and Frank was on break, so.
.." She stopped, her finger tracing the seam of the couch cushion absently.
"He started yelling about how I was ungrateful, how I'd thrown away everything he'd built.
Called me an old has-been who'd fucked it all up.
" She said it evenly, like she was recounting someone else's evening.
"He was loud enough that Luis and Mary both came running out like the building was on fire. "
Something sharp pulled tight in Theo’s chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, quieter than she meant to. “I should’ve been there.”
"You were at work." Catherine gave a small shrug, like it was nothing, and Theo felt the regret tug at her anyway. “It was fine. Luis very politely suggested Simon leave before something regrettable happened, while Mary somehow made her cane look like a credible threat. He begrudgingly left."
“That’s not fine,” Theo said. “You should have called me.”
“I didn’t know if you would answer. Not after our last conversation.” Catherine hesitated. “And I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t.”
Theo felt that sink low in her chest. “I would've come," she said. "You know that, right?" She glanced up, meeting Catherine's eyes. "Whatever happened between us that doesn't change the fact that I'd be there if you needed me. And I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that."
Catherine looked down at her hands, twisting her rings.
"You know I almost called you. So many times.
I'd sit there with my phone, or I'd stand at my door thinking about knocking.
I even stood outside your door on Wednesday night.
Just...stood there. Like an idiot." A small, self-deprecating smile flickered across her face.
“I—" Her voice caught. "I was trying to give you the space you asked for. But God, Theodora, I've missed you."
Not ‘I missed having dinner with you’, or ‘I missed our conversations’, but ‘I missed you’, direct and uncomplicated in ways Catherine rarely allowed herself to be.
Catherine's gaze remained fixed on Theo, her profile sharp in the flickering light. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I want you to know I regret everything about how I handled that night."
"What do you mean? What do you regret exactly?"
Catherine's jaw tightened, the tendon beneath her pale skin jumping like a plucked string. "I wish I hadn't stopped you when you leaned in."
"Why did you then?"
“Since London, I've been so careful about what I let people see. And with you—" She exhaled sharply. "Christ, Theodora, it terrifies me. You terrify me. But this week without you was worse than that feeling.”
Theo reached across the space between them hesitantly. But Catherine's hand met hers halfway, their fingers threading together like they'd done this a hundred times before.
"And you're not just saying that because you're afraid of losing me as a friend?" Theo asked quietly.
Catherine's thumb traced small circles against her palm. "No, I’m not. I spent last week trying to convince myself I'd made the right choice, and I couldn't.”
Theo reached up with her free hand, hesitating briefly before brushing a strand of hair behind Catherine's ear. The silky texture slipped through her fingers, and she let her hand linger, cupping Catherine's cheek gently. Catherine leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
"So, what do you want, Catherine?" Theo asked, her thumb tracing the curve of Catherine's cheekbone.
Catherine's eyes opened, their blue startling in the dim light. "You," she said. "Just you."
The word hung between them, honest and unadorned. Theo felt it settle in her chest, spreading warmth outward until she was certain Catherine must be able to feel the heat radiating from her skin.
"Then have me," Theo whispered.
Catherine's mouth curved into a smile that transformed her entire face, genuine pleasure mixed with relief and something almost mischievous. Then she leaned in, closing the remaining distance with a slowness that made Theo acutely aware of every single inch of it.
The first contact of their lips was gentle, almost tentative, a brush that felt like a question, like Catherine checking one final time that this was wanted.
Theo answered by sliding her hand around to cup the back of Catherine's neck, fingers threading into her hair, deepening the kiss with a grip that left no room for doubt.
Catherine made a small sound against her mouth, something between a sigh and surrender, and the careful restraint dissolved entirely.
Her lips parted, and Theo felt the slide of Catherine's tongue against hers.
The kiss became urgent and consuming in ways that made Theo forget about the power outage and the week of silence and everything except the taste of Catherine's mouth and the press of her body.
She pulled Catherine more firmly against her, and Catherine made another sound, less restrained this time, carrying clear need, before shifting her position entirely.
Before Theo could register what was happening, Catherine was on top of her, straddling her lap, her knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of her thighs.
The position drew them flush together, and Theo’s hands instinctively gripped Catherine’s hips as the couch creaked beneath their movements.
Catherine threaded her fingers through Theo’s hair, guiding her head to the perfect angle, and Theo drowned in the rush of it, taste, heat, touch, and the full press of Catherine’s body as she rolled her hips down against hers.