Thirty-Four Theo
Thirty-Four
THEO
I wasn’t expecting the kiss. Or sweeping Lucie into my arms like some crazy costume-drama hero.
And yet here I am.
I wasn’t going to tell her how I felt about her but tonight something broke inside me. Watching Greg humiliate her in front of a room full of people, fully expecting that nobody would challenge him, was too much to bear. Not speaking the truth wasn’t an option.
I followed my heart, even though I might have blown my last chance to save my career. I swept into action like I did in Cannes, not quite throwing a punch but effectively wounding my director in public all the same. But it wasn’t the same because my heart never longed for Amy Jo like it has for Lucie Hart.
Like it’s aching for Lucie right now.
Barry is going to lose his shit when he finds out tomorrow.
But tonight I don’t care. Because Lucie is kissing every concern and consequence clean out of my mind.
So I carry her through the rain, secretly thanking my lucky stars that my hire car is parked in the next street. I ran to fetch it from its space near the theatre when I left Gonzalo’s and have been driving Stratford’s streets trying to find Lucie. Right now, with the way she is returning my kiss, I would walk to the ends of the earth for her, but I don’t think my back would last the journey.
I don’t know what happens next with us.
I don’t care.
And I realise that all those performance kisses, our minds kept firmly on the task at hand and the carefully planned moves we perfected, were just precursors to this moment. It was inevitable, despite our best efforts to avoid it. The conscious separation of body and mind in every performance has only made me ache for her more.
I am a walking cliché – doubly so, considering I’m striding through a rainstorm carrying the woman of my dreams.
But who needs originality when clichés feel this good?
I reach my car and gently set Lucie down, reluctantly pulling back from her as I reach for my keys.
Flushed, she giggles when she sees where we are.
‘Sweeping me round the corner, then?’
‘It’s still a sweep,’ I insist, loving the joke between us, loving the way everything has warmed. The suspicion has gone, our cautiousness around one another discarded.
She kissed me.
I wasn’t mistaken about her.
This is real.
I usher her into the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt across her body and clicking it into place. As I move back, she reaches for me and we kiss again. And I could happily stay there forever, but the rain is still pummelling my back and we both need to get warm and dry. Reluctantly, I break the kiss; close her door and head around to my side of the car.
The slam of my door seals us in.
‘I’ll take you home,’ I say, having no idea where home is for Lucie. What will her housemate say if I bring her back soaked and freezing cold? Would I get out of there alive? ‘Or – my place is nearer?’ My heart crashes against my ribcage when I realise how that sounds. ‘I mean …’
‘Yes,’ Lucie says, eyes fixed on the road ahead of us. ‘Let’s go there.’
We drive through the town in stunned silence, just the sound of the windscreen wipers and hum of the car’s heater filling the space between us. But it’s a warm silence, a lack of physical words that leaves space for thoughts and emotions to play. With little traffic on the roads we cross the town quickly and within ten minutes we arrive at the small driveway between Lilia’s house and my digs. The rain has eased a little from before, but I still hurry out of the car to open Lucie’s door, taking her hand as we run up the path to my summer home.
It’s only as I open the door and reach in to snap on the living room light that I remember the roses …
‘Wow,’ Lucie says, dripping gorgeously on the pink rosebud doormat.
‘Yeah.’ I push my hair back from my forehead, only now realising just how wet it is. ‘I probably should have warned you about that.’
Lucie is staring at my living room like she’s just been dropped on an extremely floral alien planet. ‘I take it your landlady’s a chintz fan?’
‘You could say that.’
Her smile is beautiful in the light. She ’s beautiful. How have I waited so long to admit it?
‘I’ll get towels,’ I say, before she makes me forget what I’m doing. ‘Um, make yourself at home.’
I race up the stairs and pull a handful of towels from the airing cupboard in the bathroom, heading into my room to fetch a change of clothes for me and a T-shirt and jumper for Lucie. I pause by my underwear drawer, debating whether to find her something from there, too, eventually grabbing a pair anyway and heading back downstairs.
She accepts the T-shirt, jumper and towels from me, giggling when she sees what else I’ve brought for her.
‘I am not wearing your pants.’
‘But I thought …’ My face is on fire.
‘I appreciate the gesture but I’m fine.’ She wraps a towel around her hair and glances at the stairs. ‘Is there anywhere I can go to … ?’
‘Bathroom,’ I rush. ‘Sorry, top of the stairs and it’s on the left.’
She sends me a smile and, still giggling to herself, heads upstairs.
Grabbing my towel, I peel off my soaked shirt, shaking my head at my utter stupidity. I just offered her my pants . Way to go, Theo.
What happened on the first night you kissed?
I carried her through the rain like a hero and then offered her my pants …
Hello! magazine is never going to print that one …
By the time I’m changed and the kettle is boiling, Lucie returns. Bloody hell, she’s gorgeous. I’ve always loved that T-shirt and sweater, but they’ve never fit me like they fit her.
‘There are roses everywhere,’ she breathes, surveying the kitchen with a mixture of shock and wonder. ‘Even in here.’
‘Lilia loves them. She told me they remind her of the opening night bouquets her dressing room was always filled with.’
‘She’s an actress?’
‘She was. She’s retired now. You have to meet her – and her friends who are all former actors, too. I’ve hung out with them a lot since I came here. Their stories are incredible.’
‘How come you’ve never mentioned any of this before?’
I shrug at her as I take the milk from the fridge. ‘You never asked. And I didn’t think you’d want to know.’
‘I probably didn’t for a while.’
‘It’s okay, we were both trying to be professional.’
‘And now?’
‘You tell me.’
We share brave smiles.
After the shock of this evening, the aftermath is surprisingly calm. While our clothes dry in the tumble drier, we sit together on the chintz sofa, warm from the mugs of hot tea we nurse and the closeness of our bodies. Lucie curls herself into me, her head resting on my chest – as if we’ve always had this; as if we aren’t just an hour on from the earth-shaking revelation that pulled us together.
I have questions, but they’re unimportant. I should have concerns about tomorrow, too, but they don’t cloud my mind. This is all I want to think about. Tonight is ours.
We remain like this for longer than it takes to drink our tea, the time only measured by the soft tick of the rose clock on the mantelpiece. My heartbeat slows in time, my head resting on the top of hers, breathing her in.
‘Theo?’
‘Mmm?’
‘What happens tomorrow?’
There it is. One of us had to consider it, I guess.
I breathe against the wave of uncertainty that breaks over me. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You need to make things right with Greg.’
‘He needs to apologise to you.’
She pulls back a little to observe me. ‘He does. But it’s not worth losing your job over.’
She means it. There’s something I should tell her now. Something I’ve avoided.
‘The Hamlet job is supposed to be saving my career.’
She says nothing, waiting for more. Has she worked this out already?
I seek reassurance in her eyes. ‘People think I have my life sorted. That I waltzed into Stratford-upon-Avon at the peak of my success. But I defended someone I thought I loved eighteen months ago and it slammed the brakes on my career.’
‘The director in Cannes?’
I stare back. I shouldn’t be surprised that she knows. Of course she does. Scroll a little beyond each of the recent news articles and it’s there, lurking. Lazy journalists regurgitating touch points to build up their stories. A little scandal to season the piece.
‘It was Amy Jo Everly, wasn’t it? The person you were in love with?’
‘ Thought I was in love with.’
‘But you did the same tonight.’
‘No.’
‘You did. You defended me …’
I pull her closer. ‘It wasn’t the same. It isn’t the same.’
‘Theo, I can’t ask you to fight my battles.’
‘I was at the table, too. I had to say something. You deserved better.’
She returns her head to my chest and is quiet for a while. I leave my empty mug on the arm of the sofa and wrap my arms around her. I am breathless with how quickly we arrived here: how right this feels.
‘I have an early start,’ she murmurs against me.
‘At the newsagents?’
She nods. ‘And I’ll need to go home first to change my stuff.’
‘The tumble drier will be done in twenty minutes, so …’
‘As long as I’m home for five a.m., I’ll be fine.’ She lifts her head, reaching up to stroke my cheek. ‘That’s if … ?’
I don’t need to hear the rest.
‘Yes,’ I say, kissing her, everything else forgotten. ‘Yes.’