Chapter 20
Fable
Oaks Folks
Millie: Sorry we couldn’t be there for your birthday, Fabes!
Tessa: Me too!
Dad: You all missed a hell of a party.
Dad: There was a beer slip-n-slide.
Dad: And balloon monsters.
Dad: Everyone dressed up as their favorite farm animal.
Mom: We did none of that.
Tessa: Dad, your ideas of a good time are bizarre. Not inviting you to any of my future parties.
Dad: You’ll be missing out.
Dad: Ask your mom about that party in 1982.
Mom: I will not be answering ANY questions about that.
Millie: please
Tessa: pleeeeeeease
“That third margarita might’ve been a mistake,” I announce as Theo guides me up the steps to the A-frame. It seemed like a good idea at the time—a cold drink to cancel out the hot feeling in my belly after that dance with him.
Did it help? No, Your Honor, in fact, it did not. That hot feeling is still eating me alive from the inside out.
Maybe I’m hungry. That must be it—drunk and hungry. I need food.
“I’m no expert,” Theo says with a laugh. “But maybe it was also the shots you and Mia did before you danced to ‘It’s Gonna Be Me’?”
“Oh yeahhhh. I remember that.” I trip up the last step and he steadies me. “Still can’t believe Ethan played *NSYNC.”
A deep chuckle sounds behind me. “Don’t think it was his first choice, but Mia wasn’t letting it go.”
I stumble again. Damn these two left feet. “I love Mia. She’s the best friend ever.”
“Good, because I think you’re stuck with her.” The world stops moving and keys jangle at my side. He must be unlocking the door. Thank goodness, because I think I’m tilting.
“Whoa.” I land against a warm wall of muscle and let it hold me up for a minute.
It smells nice here. Like trees and manly things.
I could live here on this wall, I decide.
I’m never moving from this spot. Doesn’t matter if *NSYNC shows up in the flesh and tells me I must move, I’m not doing it. This wall is my home now.
The wall pushes into me. “In you go,” it says.
I resist the urge to stomp my foot like a toddler. “I am not leaving this spot.”
“Did you just stomp your foot?” Theo asks, grabbing my arms to steer me inside.
“No, I didn’t. I’m twenty-nine years old.
” I transform my voice into an absolutely horrendous rendition of a Jane Austen–era heroine.
“I have no money and no prospects.” I hiccup once.
I’m butchering this, but I keep going anyway.
“I’m a burden to my parents and . . . and I’m frightened.
So don’t judge me, Theo. Don’t you dare judge me! ”
“The fact that you can quote the 2005 Pride and Prejudice but not walk in a straight line is really an accomplishment,” he says, herding me around the couch.
I whirl to face him. “You’ve seen that movie?” The room keeps spinning even when he grabs my elbows.
“Yep. You and Mia watched it a lot growing up, remember?” Oh, yeah. Knocks pushes himself against my ankle and Theo bends to pick him up. “This little guy needs food, I bet.”
I gasp. “Food! Yes! I need that too.” I tumble toward the kitchen and rip open the fridge. Damn past-me for not going grocery shopping again. As much as I want to be able to survive on tea and audiobooks, it’s just not cutting it. “Where are the snacks?”
Theo chuckles as he flips on the light and scoops out food for Knocks. “We’re going grocery shopping tomorrow.”
“We?”
“We.” He rummages around in the cabinet for a moment. “I’m taking you. To make sure you actually do it. You can’t live on hazelnut spread and Ritz crackers.”
“Excuse me, sir,” I say, reaching into the cabinet beside him.
“You take that back. I absolutely can.” I tear into the cracker package like a starving raccoon.
The silverware drawer screeches as I yank it open and pull out a butter knife.
Then I sit on the counter, swinging my feet, as I spread the chocolate-y, hazelnut-y goodness on crackers and shove them in my mouth.
Theo watches me, his eyes crinkling on the edges with amusement.
“You wanna try?” I offer, dipping the knife into the jar.
“Sure.” I fix it up for him, and he chews with a thoughtful expression. Finally, he says, “All right. I concede. It’s really good.”
“Dark chocolate is where it’s at,” I inform him, holding up the container.
“We’ll be sure to get some more at the store tomorrow, then.” He reaches around me for a water glass, fills it, and hands it to me. I down half of it in one go.
Tipping my head, I stare up at the ceiling. The beams sway a little, making me feel even more dizzy, so I look back at Theo instead. He’s watching me intently, dimples carved out in his cheeks and mocha eyes dialed-in. I have all his attention.
But that makes me feel swirly and upside down, so I focus on my snacks again. Snacks are safe. Snacks are good. Snacks don’t have lopsided grins that make my stomach curl into knots. I eat two crackers in a row without looking up.
All of a sudden, Theo is on his knees in front of me. One hand grabs my ankle and my drunk–lizard brain screeches in the back of my head. What is happening? Is he about to lift up my dress?
Ohhhh. He’s unlacing my shoes. Cool. I am very cool and not at all warm at the sight of him on his knees in front of me.
I need to get a grip.
He unties both of my shoes and pulls them off, leaving me in short wool socks, before he leans against the other counter.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Or croak, rather.
I don’t know, it comes out weird. I clear my throat, trying to think of something funny to say to alleviate this tension somehow.
“It’s been a long time since I drank this much, but you’re pretty lucky.
Normally after alcohol, I’m hungry, turned-on, and crying.
” I shake my head, shoving one more cracker into my mouth and garbling around it, “Tonight it’s only two out of three. ”
A choking sound leaves the back of his throat.
Then silence drenches the room, only punctuated by the slow crunching inside my mouth.
Maybe that wasn’t nearly as funny as I thought.
His pupils are blown wide, which is odd because I’m the drunk one—he was nursing a water glass all night.
His knuckles are white as he squeezes the edge of the counter.
I swallow hard and wash it down with the rest of my water. “There’s still time for tears though.” I laugh, twisting the lid onto the hazelnut spread.
He scrubs his hands down his face and groans behind them. “Come on, Fabes. You can’t tell me stuff like that.”
“It’s okay. The crying will probably happen after you leave. I tend to get emotional when I’m drunk. One time, Mia had to take my phone away because I couldn’t stop sobbing over videos of these two penguins that fell in love. The zoo even had a wedding for them!”
He tilts his head up, like he’s pleading the swaying beams for help. “Not the crying part, Fabes.”
I try to think of what he means, but that was more than thirty seconds ago, so I’m not sure I remember. Then it hits me. “The part about being turned-on?”
He looks like he’s in pain. “Yes. That’s exactly the part.”
I roll my eyes. “You saw me . . .” I wave a hand vaguely in the direction of upstairs, trying to remind him about that time he walked in on me with a vibrator. “I think we’re past that.”
“Are we?” His arms cross over his chest. “Because Sober-you told me a few days ago that we were going to forget it ever happened. We were going to be as chill as the arctic tundra.”
“Sober-me is so boring.” I let out a dramatic groan and hop down from the counter. The room shifts under my socked feet, and I almost fall, but Theo curves one strong arm around my waist.
He sounds amused when he says, “Okay. Let’s get you to bed, birthday girl.”
I hum in agreement, and he turns off the light, guiding me toward the stairs, his hand warm on my lower back. “What about my birthday present?” I ask, pointing toward the downstairs bedroom door. “I still haven’t peeked. Are you proud? You should give me a gold star.”
His laugh is a rush of air by my ear. “I’m very proud. You can see it tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
“And you’ll get me a gold star?”
“A whole pack.”
When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I glare up at them. They’re a little blurry and overwhelming, so instead, I sag back against Theo and relish the way it feels to let him hold me up. I’m so tired, and I bet he would make a really good pillow. We could lie down right here for the night.
He laughs softly, his hands sliding up from my elbows to my shoulders. “I think you have plenty of pillows upstairs.”
Oh, shit. My brain needs to stop thinking out loud.
I go up one step, then turn to look at him. Most of his face is cast in shadows, the smallest bit of moonlight from the big windows dancing over his cheekbones, illuminating his grin.
My blood feels like champagne, bubbly and sparkling with possibilities. He’s right here—broad shoulders and perfect composure. Cool, calm, and collected.
I want to take him apart. Rip that composure away and see what he looks like wrecked and undone, when my hands have been sifting through his hair and his lips have been touching mine. Messy and disheveled because of me.
Something pulls in my stomach. A tug, urging me closer. Maybe this is the perfect time to give in. Theo doesn’t do real relationships, and honestly that sounds fabulous. A fling. A temporary arrangement. Orgasms with a hot guy? What an amazing birthday present, actually.
I’m doing it.
His expression sharpens slightly as I lean forward and crash into him—my arms around his neck, our bodies pressed together. He absorbs my momentum, keeping us upright, but he doesn’t put him arms around me.
“Theo,” I whisper into his hair—his soft, silky hair that smells like something my brain is too fuzzy to identify, but it smells good. Incredible. I could sleep in there, actually.