Chapter 28 #2
Theo glanced at the small white tablet before Catherine swallowed it—lamotrigine, she recognized the markings without having to think about it.
"Hopeful," Theo repeated, grinning.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself."
"I'm not. I'm just—" Theo set her mug down. "Really glad you were."
Catherine picked up her coffee and turned back to the window, which Theo had come to recognize as her way of not letting Theo see her smile.
Theo reached out and caught her by the hips, drawing her back. Catherine came without argument, settling against her chest, and they stayed like that for a while, both of them looking out at the quiet Sunday morning beyond the glass.
"Can I ask you something?" Theo said.
"Of course."
"When you were in that green room, writing the setlist." She paused. "Were you scared?"
Catherine was quiet for a moment, her hands resting on Theo's where they crossed at her waist. "Terrified.
But my therapist says that anxiety is information, not instruction.
It's your body telling you that something matters, not necessarily telling you to run.
And that's what I kept reminding myself before I came out onto the stage. "
"My therapist says the same thing, actually. About anxiety," Theo said.
"Does she?" Catherine took a sip.
"Mhm. I started seeing her about six months ago.
After Harry. After a lot of things." Theo traced a lazy line across Catherine's wrist. "I kept thinking I wasn't supposed to need help.
That it was some kind of conflict of interest, being the one who's meant to give it.
" She shrugged. "Turns out that's not how it works. "
"No," Catherine said. "It isn't."
"You know, we might be the two most emotionally avoidant people in Manhattan."
Catherine considered that with surprising seriousness. "I think we'd need data to support the claim. Though I accept we'd be strong contenders."
Theo laughed against her shoulder. Catherine's hand covered hers where it rested at her waist, fingers interlacing.
They finished their coffee in the easy quiet that followed.
After a moment, Theo pushed herself upright. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get dressed. I want to take you for breakfast. Somewhere with average coffee and excellent bagels.”
Theo crossed the room and rummaged through a drawer, emerging with a pair of thick leggings. On her, they came to the ankle. On Catherine, they stopped somewhere around mid-calf, which gave them the general energy of extremely trendy capri pants.
Theo looked her over with open satisfaction. “You look great.”
“I look like I’m wearing someone else’s clothes.”
“No. You look sexy as hell.”
Catherine huffed softly and turned back to the mirror to wind her scarf. Theo stepped behind her, taking it from her hands and looping it herself, the way you did for someone without thinking about it.
Catherine watched her in the mirror. "What are you thinking about?"
Theo smiled. "You'll laugh."
"I won't."
"You absolutely will."
Catherine turned to face her, one eyebrow raised, waiting.
"Future Sunday mornings," Theo said. "Like this one."
Catherine didn't laugh. She looked at her for a moment, and then Theo took hold of the ends of the scarf and tugged her down into a kiss, slow and easy, the kind that had nowhere to be.
When they finally pulled back, Theo kept hold of the scarf, her fingers loose around it. "I was also thinking we should stop by the pharmacy on 86th."
"Pharmacy?"
Theo's chin dipped in the barest nod. "For your epilepsy medication. To keep a spare bottle in my medicine cabinet."
Catherine's brow creased, a small line appearing between her eyebrows. "Why would I—"
"For weekends like this." Theo's shoulders rose half an inch before settling. "So you don't have to count hours until your next dose and rush home. I want you to feel safe at my place and—"
Catherine leaned forward, pressing her lips against Theo's, her fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of Theo's neck.
When they separated, Theo's lips curved upward, eyes still half-closed. "What was that for?"
"For being you." Catherine traced Theo's bottom lip with her thumb. "I'll call them on our way and ask for a second prescription to leave at my girlfriend's apartment."
Theo's eyebrows shot up as a teasing grin fell across her lips. "Girlfriend?"
"Would you prefer 'the woman across the hall who once threatened to stitch me up, then proceeded to unravel me completely'?" Catherine's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Or is that too wordy for daily use?"
"Just a bit." Theo laughed. "Girlfriend works. Though I might need to hear it a few more times to be sure."
"Girlfriend," Catherine repeated, her voice dropping to that register that made Theo shudder. "My girlfriend, Theodora Brennan."
"Yeah, that works." Theo's throat felt tight suddenly, emotion welling up from somewhere deep and unexpected.
She buried her face against Catherine's neck, breathing in the clean scent of her own shampoo on Catherine's skin.
There was something unexpectedly intimate about that, Catherine wearing her clothes, using her shower products, existing in her space like she belonged there.
Because she did belong there. That realization settled into Theo's bones with a certainty that should have been terrifying but wasn't.
"Theodora," Catherine said.
"Yeah."
"I'm glad we got here."
Theo tightened her arms around her, feeling the solid warmth of Catherine against her chest. Someone who had let herself be looked at, fully, and had not been turned away.
"Me too," Theo whispered, and held her a little tighter.