Chapter 16 Breakthrough #2
And then, with an untitled, blank page in front of her … Sage begins to write.
Theo
Nov 26 3:13 PM
I’ve forgotten what the world outside of my computer screen looks like.
Theo
How many words today?
4329
Theo
So specific.
A new beginning to the book.
Theo
Excellent!
Theo
Nov 28 10:30 AM
Theo
[Picture of a flyer for the Santa Dash]
Theo
I took the liberty of signing you up.
Hilarious.
Theo
Have to force fresh air on you somehow.
Have you been talking to Margot?
Theo
How Fresh Air Impacts Your Brain.pdf
OMFG you’ve been talking to Margot.
Theo
We may have exchanged a few DMs.
Theo
[Screenshot of a group chat with Emerson and Margot]
I … have no words.
The 3 Best Friends That Anyone Did Have
Nov 28 4:47 PM
STOP DMING WITH THEO
Disaster
Aw come on, Mom!!!
Disaster
Can we keep him? Pleeeeease?
M
Did he send you the fresh air study?!
Awsdfjdaif I hate you both so much
Theo
Nov 28 10:03 PM
If you stab someone in the chest but don’t hit their lung or heart … they can survive, right?
Theo
Erm, why would you think I know anything about that?
You stabbed the bad guy in Legends!
Theo
I’m so concerned in this moment that I truly don’t know where to begin.
Theo
You’re familiar with special effects, yes?
Thanks so much for your help.
NHS_study.pdf
SUCCESS!
Disaster
Nov 30 6:55 PM
Disaster
[5 Min Voice Message]
Disaster
Listen whenever you want a writing break. It’s low stakes work gossip
I’m 30 seconds in and already know this isn’t low stakes.
Asfkjasdklfj Randolph is a DICK.
I’m FaceTiming you in 5
Disaster
But you’re writing!
Shut up and get your fuzzy blanket
Disaster
ilysm
Theo
Dec 1 4:44 PM
I did a thing.
[Screenshot of an email to her editor with an attachment New direction—first 20K words]
Theo
Bloody brilliant.
Theo
How do you feel?
Relieved? Terrified? Excited?
Theo
You are incredible.
Theo
Care to celebrate?
What did you have in mind?
Theo
Ever visited a beach in the snow?
Does the Chicago lakefront count?
Theo
Not quite.
Theo
brAES BEACH
Website | Directions
Theo
Tomorrow? 11?
You’re really pushing this fresh air thing.
I suppose I deserve a break, don’t I.
Theo
Theo
Who are you and what have you done with Sage Collins?
There’s something otherworldly about standing on Braes beach when it’s covered in snow.
It’s nothing like standing on the shore of Lake Michigan, ice under her boots and the city on the horizon.
Here, there’s nothing but white and gray and hidden wisps of tan from the tall grass that peeks through the snow on the slope behind the beach.
The shoreline curves toward small costal cliffs dusted in whites, and under the bright gray sky, the water looks dark and cold, the wind sending small caps rippling across the top.
She and Theo stand somewhere in the middle of the beach, and it’s like standing at the edge of the world and realizing it just keeps going, keeps stretching somewhere far beyond what you can even comprehend.
Sage feels small here. Like a speck in the ever-sprawling landscape.
A smudge on the map that can only be seen if you zoom in to the highest magnification until there she is, thick black jacket zipped up to her chin and stiff snow gloves that cover the hands she has shoved in her pockets, a gray beanie pulled over her hair.
She glances at Theo. He’s donning much of the same attire—a thick black ski coat and black gloves and black beanie—but instead of looking like an overstuffed s’more, he, naturally, looks like he stepped out of an advertisement for a snowboarding retreat.
He’d peppered her with questions about the new beginning to her book on the drive over, but he’s grown quiet since they’ve been out on the beach.
Mercurial like the waters before them.
Sage sucks in a lungful of cold air and lets the steady wash of the ocean against the rocks that escaped the snow soothe her. “How’d the new real estate agent visit go?” she asks.
“Fine, I guess,” he says, his gloved hands finding his pockets as he gazes out at the sea. Sage digs the toe of her boot into the snow, relishing in the satisfying crunch it makes as she twists her foot and contemplates his nonanswer.
“Did you like her?” she tries, the question light and innocently curious. It’s not at all weighed down by the angst that flits through her whenever she thinks about how Theo might return to London at any point.
The twenty-second is less than three weeks away. It suddenly feels like mere days.
“She was all right,” he mumbles, his jaw tight as he stares at the rolling sea.
“Just all right?”
Theo shifts. “She says the house needs a lot of changes if we want to get top dollar for it.” The words are bitter, but he doesn’t follow them up with anything else.
Sage is prepared to leave it alone. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. But then Theo’s shoulders are rising as he sucks in a breath, the air in front of him clouding on a long exhale as he says, “It’s foolish, isn’t it?”
The question takes her by surprise. She isn’t quite sure what he’s referring to, and her silence stretches long enough that he looks over at her.
His irises are like fractured ice as he meets her gaze.
“Wanting to keep the house,” he clarifies.
“It’s absurd. Dad doesn’t even come here, and I … I haven’t been here in years.”
“It’s not foolish,” she reassures him gently. “You have a lot of great memories here. I get why you wouldn’t want to let that go.”
“But I should,” Theo argues. “It’s just a house. It’s not them. I shouldn’t feel anything about needing to update it or putting a price on it or … letting it go.”
The grief is thick in his voice, but at least he’s not burying it, so she leans into him and lets him feel the press of her arm through their thick coats. “It’s not that simple.”
His frown deepens as he turns back to the horizon. “It should be. I’ve done all of this before. Dad sold the house in London after they died. I was at uni, and it made sense. It was too big for just him anyway. This shouldn’t be any different.”
Sage waits him out. There are more words bubbling up in him, she can tell. Sure enough, Theo shakes his head, squinting at the gray ocean.
“Years of bloody therapy and I’m losing my mind over a fucking house,” he huffs. “As if keeping it is going to keep them closer.”
“I would imagine all of the therapy in the world wouldn’t make you miss them any less,” Sage murmurs. “It’s normal to want to hold on sometimes. Especially to this.”
Theo’s gaze traces the horizon, as if he can find the answers written in the line where the sea meets the sky.
“Oliver would have sold it,” he says quietly.
The bitterness in his voice has slipped away into something far more resolute and certain.
“He would have sold it just to be done with the drama of it.”
Sage takes a moment to take him in. The sharp cut of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the slight downward twist of his lips.
He looks so young out here, where the landscape towers over them in a blur of grays and blues and whites.
When he’s standing next to her like this—bundled up on the snowy beach, shoulders hunched against the cold, eyes wet from the wind and the barrage of emotions he tries to keep at bay—it’s easy to forget he’s Theo Sharpe, the actor.
Right now, he’s just Theo—a twenty-nine-year-old who wants to shed his grief but can’t.
“Maybe,” she finally concedes. “But you’re not Oliver.”
She wonders when the last time was that someone reminded him of that. If the way he blinks hard and sniffs before clearing his throat is any indication, it’s been a while.
“You’re allowed to want things, Theo. Things just for yourself. Even if they don’t always make sense.”
Theo’s laugh is wet and sad and lined with a skepticism that makes her uneasy.
Maybe she overstepped, pressed too hard on someone else’s bruise.
She opens her mouth to try to fix it, to assure him that this one does make sense, and really, what does she know anyway, but he turns to her before she can get the words out and says, “In that case … I think I want to stay for a while longer.”
“Really?” she stammers, her tongue tripping over itself as her brain scrambles to switch tracks.
Theo shrugs. “Mum always wanted to do Christmas here. We never did. Maybe I can convince Dad to come out for a bit. Either way … it’s been nice, to slip away from my life for a while.
To not have to worry about being photographed or bumping into a fan when I’m not in the mood to talk.
I can be standoffish when I’m not in the right headspace.
I’m constantly afraid someone will mistake me having a bad day with me being a total prick.
It’s been a relief to not have to worry about it. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
Just for a little while.
She should remember that.
She needs to remember that.
It’s too easy to lose sight of it in the quiet and raw moments like these.
She swallows hard and drags her gaze back to the sea.
“Reality does seem to have a way of forcing itself to be remembered, doesn’t it?” she muses.
“It does,” he agrees softly. There’s a rustle of fabric and then he’s tugging on the pocket of her jacket, pulling her around so she’s facing him.
Sage tilts her head up, her eyes squinting against the bright gray of the sky.
“But for now,” he continues, his hands sliding to the small of her back and pressing in, “I just want to be here.”
With you.
He doesn’t say it, but it’s there, written in the lifted corner of his mouth and the fresh clarity in his gaze and the firm squeeze of his arms as they wind fully around her waist, caging her in against him.
“Okay,” she agrees, because frankly, it’s where she wants to be, too.
Just for a little while.