Chapter 15 Off Tempo
Off Tempo
Theo
Theo squinted as sunlight hit her face. Her limbs felt pleasantly heavy, and her mind unusually quiet. It was like her body had finally collected on all those IOUs from months of four-hour nights.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was. She couldn’t place the ceiling above her or the silky sheets twisted around her legs. Then she caught the scent of Chanel Coco Mademoiselle and everything clicked into place.
Catherine’s bedroom. She was in Catherine’s bed. She still couldn’t quite believe it.
She rolled over, arm reaching automatically, finding only rumpled warmth where Catherine should be.
Theo sat up, rubbing her eyes, and caught the domestic symphony drifting from elsewhere in the apartment: running water, the gentle collision of a mug being set down, bare feet padding across hardwood.
The clock on Catherine's nightstand read nine forty-seven. Theo blinked at it, certain it must be wrong, but the angle of light through the windows confirmed it. She'd slept nearly ten hours. When was the last time that had happened? Before residency, probably. No, definitely.
She tugged on yesterday’s borrowed shirt and padded into the kitchen. Catherine was at the coffee counter, back to the doorway, hair twisted into a loose knot at her nape, soft gray pants and a matching sweater draped over her in a way that looked expensive even from behind.
Theo watched for a moment, then slid her arms around Catherine's waist, having to rise on her toes to rest her chin on Catherine's shoulder. Catherine jumped, then laughed under her breath, her body softening as she leaned back against Theo's chest.
“Mm, good morning.”
“Good morning,” Theo murmured against Catherine’s sweater. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I slept so long.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad.” Catherine’s hands came up to rest over Theo’s. “I checked on you twice.”
The admission sent a warmth through Theo, and she tightened her hold, breathing in the faint scent of Catherine’s skin through the fabric and feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.
They stood like that while the coffee finished brewing, steam rising to fog the window above the sink.
"I was thinking," Theo said, "Maybe we could go out for breakfast this morning? I don’t feel like a repeat of yesterday’s failure."
Catherine's teasing scoff was quiet but genuine. "Failure is a strong word."
"Fine, we didn’t fail, we got...sidetracked."
Catherine turned in her arms, her laugh lines deepening the faint shadows beneath her eyes. Then she leaned in and kissed her, as if she wasn’t in any hurry to let her go, and Theo lost the thread of the conversation entirely.
"Mhm, very sidetracked," she hummed against Theo's mouth.
When she pulled back, she tucked a strand of hair behind Theo's ear. "That cafe near Yorkies might still be serving breakfast. Frank swears by their coffee."
"Sold," Theo said against Catherine's lips. "But I need to borrow more clothes. I live too far away to get my own."
Catherine pulled back, mouth quirking. "I think I can find something that fits."
Catherine retrieved clothing from her closet while Theo washed her face in the bathroom, noting with amusement that even Catherine's soap smelled expensive.
The sweater Catherine offered was cashmere in deep green, softer than anything Theo owned, and it hung a little long on her frame in ways that felt comforting rather than ill-fitting.
Theo watched Catherine get ready in the mirror's reflection, the careful way in which she applied minimal makeup, the nuanced movements as she changed from loungewear into jeans and a cream turtleneck.
Everything Catherine did carried that quality of measured attention, like she was conducting an orchestra where every gesture mattered.
"You're staring, darling," Catherine said without looking away from the mirror.
"Can you blame me?"
Catherine’s reflection smiled, and Theo felt her stomach flip.
She came to stand behind her at the vanity, slipping her fingers beneath Catherine’s chin and lifting her face for a gentle kiss, her hand warm against her cheek.
Afterward, she lingered, tracing a line of kisses along the curve of Catherine’s neck below her ear.
"We should go," Catherine said, but she tilted her head to give Theo better access, "before I lose motivation to leave this apartment."
"Would that be so terrible?"
"We'd starve," Catherine said, but her voice carried warmth beneath the practicality.
Out in the hallway, Catherine fixed Theo’s borrowed scarf, tugging it higher against the April breeze. Theo caught her wrist and kissed her knuckles, watching the color rise in her cheeks.
A quiet ding announced the elevator, and Catherine’s fingers slipped into Theo’s as they stepped inside. They stayed there, intertwined all the way down to the lobby, through the automatic doors, and out onto the sidewalk, where morning light cut between the buildings as they walked.
The café buzzed with Sunday morning life.
Near the entrance, an older man had his newspaper spread across the counter, while two women in matching Lululemon laughed over something on a phone screen.
A family with kids had pushed tables together, the parents nursing coffees while their children attacked paper placemats with crayons.
They slid into a back booth with cracked red vinyl seats. The tabletop between them had seen better days: coffee rings, knife scratches, decades of elbows.
"Coffee?" A server appeared, her pot tilting toward empty mugs before they answered.
Theo cupped her hands around the ceramic, soaking in the warmth. Catherine poured cream into hers, stirring slowly.
They talked easily at first, conversation drifting through topics that asked nothing of them: the couple arguing three tables over, the very serious pancakes-versus-waffles debate, the faded photographs on the café’s walls showing what the neighborhood had looked like decades earlier, Theo’s confession that she’d once tried to make croissants from scratch and produced what could only be described as bread crimes.
Catherine listened more than she spoke, but her attention was steady, her mouth curving at Theo’s stories, her occasional comments carrying her usual dry humor.
But then Theo noticed Catherine's gaze drift toward the window, her focus sliding away mid-conversation. It was just a subtle shift where her eyes stopped tracking Theo's face and found something else to rest on.
Theo paused, waiting to see if Catherine would return on her own, and after a few seconds she did, blinking as if reorienting herself.
"Sorry," Catherine said. "What were you saying?"
Theo took a sip of coffee. "Just that Nat's dying to meet you properly. She's been hounding me about it since—well, even before this weekend. I don’t know how many more of her questions I can handle."
"Oh?" Catherine raised an eyebrow. "What's she asking?"
“You know. Where did you grow up? Are you a Knicks fan? Do you have a favorite movie? Ever been arrested?” Theo shrugged. “The usual interrogation.”
Catherine tilted her head, one eyebrow arching delicately. "Let's see...Yes. No. No. Connecticut." Her lips curved into a hint of mischief. "But I'll let Nat figure out which answer goes with which question."
Theo hid her smile behind her coffee mug, heat rising in her chest as she fought the impulse to lean across the table and kiss that smirk right off Catherine's beautiful face.
Catherine laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Seriously, though, Liv’s the same way. She called twice last night while you were in the shower. Left a voicemail saying she wanted to talk to ‘the cute doctor.’ I texted her back and told her she’d have to wait her turn.”
Before Theo could respond, the server appeared beside the table, pen poised to take their order.
Theo ordered eggs and toast, easy and filling.
Catherine asked for fruit and yogurt. By the time the server walked away, the warmth had thinned, and Catherine’s gaze had drifted toward the family a few tables over, her expression distant.
Theo followed her line of sight, then looked back at her. “You okay?” she asked, leaning forward.
Catherine's gaze snapped back, and this time Theo caught the delay more clearly, the half-second where Catherine seemed to process the question before responding.
Catherine's eyes refocused. "Yes, sorry. Just tired." Her smile followed a moment later. "This weekend has been a lot."
Theo's face fell. "Like in a bad way?" she whispered, leaning forward. "Was it—Was I too much?"
Catherine's hand shot across the table to grab Theo's. “No. Not at all." Her fingers were cool against Theo's palm. "Sorry, that came out wrong. I just—" She squeezed once. "I'm not twenty-eight anymore. It takes me longer to bounce back."
“I don't remember you having any trouble keeping up," Theo said as her shoulders loosened at the warmth in Catherine's eyes.
Catherine's thumb traced slow circles over Theo's knuckles. "So our age gap doesn't bother you?"
"No. Not even a little." The words came instantly, without thought. "Does it bother you?"
Catherine hesitated. "Not the years exactly." Her gaze stayed steady on Theo's face. "But I wonder if you'll wake up one day and realize you're with someone who's in a completely different place than you are."
Theo's hand went still under Catherine's. "Different place?" She tried to keep her voice casual, but something tightened in her chest.
"You're just starting out," Catherine said. "Your whole career’s ahead of you. Whether that be at Johns Hopkins, or elsewhere." She pulled back slightly, wrapping both hands around her mug. "I've already had my rise and fall."
"Catherine." Theo leaned forward, trying to catch Catherine's eyes again. "You're not some chapter I'm going to finish and move on from."
Catherine smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "That's a lovely sentiment. And I’m not asking for any kind of commitment, I—"