Chapter 31
31
Cat
T he joke is on me later, because Theo can cook, and really well, apparently. It’s an unseasonably warm April day, and he leads us up to the roof to grill. He’s already prepared several steak sauces and opened a red wine.
“Don’t drop that, Cat. It needs to breathe,” he tosses over his shoulder as we head up the stairs to the gym and roof.
I growl under my breath, which he ignores, even though I know he heard me. We wend our way through the wooden planters of grasses until we reach a secluded table. It’s covered by an arbor that is just starting to see green shoots on the vines.
“There’s a full outdoor kitchen.” Theo points. “A wine fridge. A hot tub over there. Loungers. You can start using them in a few weeks, probably. I had the plantings designed to block the wind. It gets pretty warm on the south side of the building.”
He says this all like it’s totally normal, and suddenly, I’m irrationally mad at him.
“What?” He’s looking at my face, and he must realize I’m upset.
“I just—I don’t know.” He’s done this all on his own. He’s achieved so much, and I’ve done nothing . I was never allowed to reach for more. Anger makes tears clog in my throat. I swipe at my eyes and turn away.
“Cat. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say stiffly. It’s stupid to be upset about this. I had everything for so long, and it’s my own foolish weakness that kept me from rebelling against my parents and making my own path. Theo wouldn’t have waited until twenty-eight to learn how to open a bank account. He would have learned how to drive. He wouldn’t have been comfortable with the perfect, pretty box they stuck me in.
I have no right to be upset at this man who has built an empire for himself.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his face drawn with concern.
I don’t get a chance to respond, because Brenda calls Theo over to have him light the grill, and I let myself be caught up in the totally normal family dinner. Well, normal if you’re a superstar hockey player and a daredevil billionaire.
Brenda wants to know when Theo’s next work trip is, because she might want to come, and Cole lets us know that his physical therapy for the knee injury he suffered last season is finally done.
When Cole asks how school is going, I look up at him in surprise. “It’s okay,” I say slowly. “I wouldn’t say I’m particularly good at it.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Brenda says, leaning over to squeeze my arm.
“Cat doesn’t give herself enough credit,” Theo adds, shaking his head.
I know his words are all for show, but they warm something inside me anyway.
“A match made in heaven,” Cole says dryly, giving his brother a look.
“Don’t start,” Theo warns.
“Boys,” their mom says, and I’m reminded of years ago, when a warning word from Brenda was all it took for Theo to immediately stop what he was doing .
I smile, and he gives me a suspicious look. “Why are you grinning like that?”
“Just remembering how naughty you were as a kid,” I say lightly.
Cole laughs. “Remember when you tossed all of mom’s shoes onto the roof?”
Theo winces, and their mom groans. “I had to hire someone to get them all down.”
“Like you never did anything bad,” Theo says his brother.
“I’m a saint compared to you,” Cole shoots back.
Brenda just shakes her head, but she’s smiling. More proof that she’s the best mom in the world. Not for the first time, I wish I remembered my mom. My eyes sting, and I look back down at my plate. All I have is her diary and some faint impressions of her from my childhood. I shove the feelings down while I chew.
The steak is delicious, as are the thinly sliced mushrooms and the mashed potatoes Theo unveils. But best of all is the chocolate cake.
“It looks like the cake from Matilda,” I marvel. “Did you make this?” I immediately kick myself for asking the question. I should know whether he can bake.
Brenda is looking at me like she’s realizing the same thing.
Theo grins. “Nah, you know I can’t bake. I didn’t mysteriously learn while you were in class. I got it from that bakery on 83 rd Street that I like. Mom? Cake? Cole?”
Cole laughs. “I’ll have one lick of frosting, please. Gotta keep my abs for the season.” He pats his perfectly flat stomach.
“More for me,” Theo says happily, serving his mom and himself massive slices. “Cat. Dessert?” His eyes are an invitation. Come here and have a taste.
“I’ll have a bite of yours,” I say. We need to sell this. Brenda is watching us, and Theo, for some reason, insists that she needs to think this marriage is real. Cole is watching us with amusement.
Theo spoons a bite of chocolate into my mouth, like this is something we do all the time. I barely taste the chocolate. “Thanks, darling.”
“You have some chocolate on your lip,” he murmurs. He brushes the imaginary chocolate with his thumb and sucks it into his mouth. I feel his mom’s eyes on us the entire time. When she and Cole start bringing plates downstairs, I round on Theo.
“I hate this,” I hiss. “I don’t know anything about you, and we look like fools. Can we just tell her the truth?”
He shakes his head. “We just have to keep it up until tomorrow.”
“She’s really staying the night?”
Theo nods. This is worse than I imagined. “Which bedroom?”
“The one across from mine.”
“Shit.” I look at Theo. “We have to share a bed. One of us will sneak out in the wee hours. Or we’ll stay up late so she doesn’t realize we’re sleeping in separate bedrooms.”
“And if we have to share?” He raises both brows. “Can you handle that?” He looks amused at my panic, those green eyes laughing at me, even his stance communicating that he is totally unbothered by this development.
“Can you? You almost ravished me this morning.” Theo’s in my space. I’m closer than I was when we started this stupid conversation. He smells good. It’s so annoying that he always smells good. Why can’t he be disgusting instead of disgustingly handsome?
“You were the one in my room.” He gives me a cocky grin. “You were the one who was rubbing against me.”
“I was not rubbing.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining, baby.” He wags his brows. “You got me most of the way there with that hickey.”
“If I sleep in that bed, we will be sleeping .”
“Sure.” He shrugs. “If you can resist. You might be tempted to work on the list with me. In fact, we can start with the frosting from the cake. I’ll lick it off you. You lick it off me.”
“That’s not on there,” I say, before I realize my mistake.
Theo’s eyes light up. “Then we can start with…” He cocks his head. “Public sex.”
I redden.
“That’s on there?”
I don’t respond, and he groans softly. “Forget I asked. ”
His mom and Cole are coming back up the stairs, and I start cleaning up the food with jerky movements.
“Let me, wife.” Theo gives me that crooked smile and bumps me out of the way.
“You’re an idiot,” I hiss.
“You like it.”
“I hate you,” I mutter.
Theo can’t respond because Brenda is just feet away.
She stays glued to us for the rest of the night, and I’m starting to think it’s intentional. Theo and I tell her we’re going to star gaze, just to get her to go downstairs. Cole is long gone, since he has a six-a.m. practice.
“There are no stars out here, for the record,” I say, as Theo grabs blankets from the bin inside the gym and we settle on the loungers on the north side of the building.
“Use your imagination, princess.” He grins, and I roll my eyes.
“It is nice up here, though. Even without the stars.” I curl the blanket around myself and snuggle into it.
“Remind you of anything?” Theo asks idly.
“Of course it does,” I say softly. “We snuck out all the time at night.”
“Remember when we tried to sneak into that bar and got thrown out?”
“Oh yeah. And you swiped a liquor bottle and hid it in your pants.”
He chuckles. “Always wear a stretchy waistband. That’s my motto.”
I laugh, and we lapse into silence. The plants block most of the wind, and the buildings around us make me feel like we’re cocooned in night. There might not be any stars, but there are plenty of twinkling lights.
“We had fun back then, didn’t we?” Theo says.
“Best nights of my life, really. Well, when I wasn’t getting caught.”
“You never told me you got caught.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.” Dangerously close to the truth, which I don’t want Theo to ever know. He’ll feel guilty, or he’ll say I deserved it, and I don’t know which is worse.
“Looking out for me, Cat?” He looks over at me from where his arm is propped under his head. He’s lounging in the chair like he’s king of the world, even though he’s in a black sweatshirt with the hood up. It sharpens the planes of his face and makes his green eyes bright under the lights of the buildings around us. And with the way his broad form takes up space, he’s overwhelming.
“Always. You were my friend. And you—” I look away. “I know you had enough to worry about.”
Theo worked two part-time jobs and helped his mom around the house. Not an easy life for a teenager.
“Is that how you learned to cook?” At his confused expression, I say, “Helping your mom. Back then.”
“That’s when it started, I guess.” He blows out a breath. “I spent a lot of time watching TV as a kid. There were only so many networks my mom deemed sufficiently wholesome for me to watch.”
I smile, because Brenda Archer would totally restrict her sons to watching wholesome TV. “Cole picked sports, of course, but I loved sitcoms. My favorite was this one that ended with family dinner every night. Something about that family was so… good. The mom made dinner while the dad grilled and the kids played outside. I guess I wanted to recreate that.”
A throbbing ache starts in my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Your dad still doesn’t call, right?”
“Nah. Hasn’t in years. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed since we were kids.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He flashes me a smile.
“If you liked the idea of having a family so much, how come you never settled down?” The thought of Theo being alone has been nagging me. He’s a provider at heart. He loves his family and his friends, and he cares deeply about the future. Something is missing.
“I told you, princess. I have no heart. You need one of those to settle down.” His grin is cocky, but there’s something brittle beneath it.
My chest pinches. “I don’t think that’s true,” I say softly. “Come on, Theo. Why not settle down? You’d be a good husband.”
The truth of that statement settles inside me, like a stone in a pond, except each ripple that follows is a wave of longing. While he considers me, I imagine him taking this truth and running with it, divorcing me and marrying someone he loves. Someone accomplished. Someone who’s seen foreign countries and has two degrees and whose goals in life don’t include open a bank account. A throbbing ache builds as I wait for his answer.
“I’m not made for that,” he finally says. “I haven’t always been the one to walk away. For a long time, I tried to be the one to make things last.”
“But?” There’s more to this story.
“I’m not the one people want things to last with.”
The ache grows, making it hard to breathe. “Theo.”
“I’m happy with my life,” he says. “I have it all. A big house, more cars than I can ever drive, more money than I could ever spend. Women want me, men want to be me.” He shrugs. “And I have a huge dick.”
I frown at him. “There’s more to life than a huge dick.”
“Who told you that?” he asks, feigning shock.
I laugh despite myself, but it’s tinged with sadness.
“What makes you think I’d be a good husband, anyway?”
“Not your dick size, that’s for sure,” I mutter, and he laughs, deep and surprised. “You’re just surprisingly domestic, that’s all. The cooking. Getting a cake. Caring for your mom.”
“So you’re impressed?” he asks.
“You have a big ego, Theo. You don’t need me to stroke it.”
“That’s not the only thing that’s big. And I definitely want you to stroke it.” He wags his brows.
I choke a laugh, even as an animal part of my brain takes interest in stroking it .
“You’re the worst.” I turn on my side and pillow my head on my hands. “But yes, I was impressed. I don’t even know how to boil water.”
“I’ll teach you. Next weekend. I have a lot of stuff going on this week.”
“Corporate scheming?”
He nods. “That, and Cole has a game. You and I need to go to dinner with a group of investors from Luxembourg. Brush up on your French, okay?”
“Do you speak French?”
“Bien sur. Ca fait cinq ans que je parle Fran?ais. Et toi, non? Catherine, mon chou, pourquoi?” He gives me a smug smile as my mouth drops open.
“And Italian, too?”
“And German and Spanish.”
“How did you learn?”
“I taught myself.” He yawns. “You think my mom is asleep yet?”
“Let’s check.”
He rises off the chair and gives me a hand. And good thing, because I’m a little stunned. When did Theo become this person? This man who knows how to cook and taught himself four languages. While you weren’t speaking. I hate that I missed it. My friend grew up and left me behind.
Don’t fall for him, Cat. I trail him through the mansion, my chest aching with wanting Theo.
His mom is sitting in the kitchen, reading a murder mystery and having a cup of tea.
Theo gives an exaggerated yawn. “Mom. Aren’t you tired?”
“Oh, no.” She smiles calmly and turns a page. “You don’t need sleep at my age. I’ll be here. Enjoy your sleep, kids.” She looks up, and something glints in her gaze. She knows. Shit.
I tell Theo as much when we get to the second floor.
“No she doesn’t,” he says.
“I’m telling you. She totally knows. Her eye was all glinty with meaning. ”
“Glinty?” He cocks a brow and gestures for me to precede him into my bedroom.
“Yes. Her eye was glinting knowingly. This is a disaster.”
As I finish speaking, footsteps sound in the hall. I make bug eyes at Theo. “See,” I hiss. “She’s checking up on us.”
“I’ll sleep here.” He shrugs, like sleeping here is not a big deal.
“You cannot sleep here,” I say, but he’s already pulling off his sweatshirt in that painfully masculine way—one hand at the neck, his shirt riding up to display the ridges of muscle on his back. When he turns, his broad shoulders are pulling at his T-shirt.
He really cannot sleep here.
“You don’t even have pajamas,” I say, though that’s the least of my concerns.
“I sleep naked.” He slides the zipper down on his slacks, pushes them off, and raises a brow, daring me to object.
“Theo.” I cross my arms.
“Princess,” he says, holding my gaze as he slides his T-shirt over his head. I refuse to look away, so when his T-shirt joins his sweatshirt on my chair, I can’t help but stare. He’s big. Broad and muscled, with fine hairs that lead into his boxers and those vee-shaped muscles on his flank that speak to lots of workouts and very low body fat. But he’s not obscenely large or muscular. Worse, he’s lean and strong and elegant, even with the tattoo curling over his chest and neck.
“You’re staring,” he says softly.
I am. Shit. “Let’s just brush our teeth,” I say faintly.
We brush, and I try—and fail—not to admire his arms. It’s all so domestic. Leaning over our separate sinks, spitting, running water. Our eyes meet in the mirror. His mouth is tipped up.
“Is there anything you don’t find amusing?” I ask.
“This is ridiculous. Admit it.”
“Why is it so imperative that your mom not know about the fake marriage?”
His expression shutters, and he pushes off the sink and walks back into the bedroom .
“Theo, come on. Give me something. I’m in this with you.”
He yanks the covers back and slips under the duvet. He stares at the ceiling with an expressionless face. “Because she’ll be disappointed in me. And I’ve already disappointed her enough. Now get in the bed. I won’t look.”
I sigh and change into my pajamas while Theo broods. When I lie next to him, I mirror his pose. His breaths are deep and even.
“I doubt your mom thinks you’re a disappointment.”
He snorts. “Look at me. And then look at Cole. Oh sure, I’m successful. But my mom has never cared about that. She’d be happy if I quit working tomorrow. She wants my soul to be fulfilled.” He says the words like he has no soul, and I think back to what he said the other day. My soul is blacker than the space where a heart should be.
Oh, Theo.
My heart feels wrapped in a constrictor’s coils, squeezing tighter and tighter.
“The fake marriage would be the last straw,” he adds. “So, please, Cat, don’t tell her it’s fake. Okay?”
The pain in his voice punches me in the chest.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I promise.”
I feel him relax into the bed. “Thank you.”
He seems so unbearably lonely, and I want to hug him. But there’s no way he’ll let me.
So instead, I say, “I’m cold.”
“I am not turning the heat on for you. It’s already set to seventy-five, and the thermostat is all the way in the gym because this house is old and stupid. You’ll warm up.”
“Feel my fingers.” I poke him in the side, and he grabs my hand, feeling my fingers.
He heaves a long-suffering sigh before he says, “Come here, then.”
He turns on his side and lifts the blanket. I scoot into his warmth, pressing my forehead to his chest. His bare chest. There are just a few crisp hairs pressing against my face. Crisp hairs, firm muscle, hot skin .
“You really sleep naked. You’re not doing this to mess with me?” I whisper.
A laugh rumbles up from his chest that I feel under my cheek. “You’re the one who wanted to cuddle.”
“For warmth .”
“Sure. Whatever you say, princess.”
I snake an arm around his waist. This is what I wanted. Just one hug, to show him I don’t think he’s a disappointment. To tell him with my body that I think he’s impressive and good and kind, because I can never tell him with my words. His breathing deepens. I’ll move away in a minute. As soon as he’s asleep.
I fall asleep before I can remember to move.