7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seve n
Now
“This is gorgeous,” Matilda says, looking at me with what may be the first genuine smile she’s shown in our presence. “You have an eye for color.”
Beside me, my mother huffs. “That green will look so out of place.”
“It’s only an accent color,” I tell her. I take the paint swatches back from Matilda and hold the green one up to the closest window. “These big windows make it so that the land outside is part of the room. If we have a bit of sage green in here, too, it’ll tie it together.”
“Hopefully it’s land we’ll be seeing,” Mom snarks, “and not water.”
Matilda's short-lived smile falls. “Don’t worry about that. Everything should be drained well before the wedding.”
“But will it be picturesque? You know, that landscaping company you hired isn’t all that.”
“Is that so?” Matilda asks, eyebrows knitted together. She almost looks interested in hearing more.
I’m not, so I cut in.
“The blush and champagne are the main colors I want to use,” I say, fanning the paint swatches in front of me like a deck of cards. “The bridesmaid dresses are close to this mauve color, so we’ll tie that in as an accent, too.”
“Absolutely,” says Matilda. She moves over toward the edge of the ballroom, where several tables are covered in fabric, ribbon, and centerpieces. “This is what we already have in stock, but keep in mind that we can always order more from the supplier or use anything you bring in. These are the fabric swatches for the table linens. I think this off-white might look nice.”
Mom shakes her head vehemently. “Oh, no. We don’t want any messes to show. We’ll need something darker.”
“Like the green?” I quip.
She sends me an annoyed look, and I glance away, biting my lip to keep in a laugh. It’s been a long time since I smarted off at my mother. I forgot how much I enjoy it.
We work through the tables, making decisions on the linens, the drapes, the vases, the ribbon for the flowers. Mom has an opinion on everything, of course, and both of them keep asking what Daniel would think. I’m exhausted and relieved when we’re done, because I’m running out of polite ways to say that he doesn’t give a shit about any of this.
Matilda tucks her clipboard under her arm. “I’ll come back and clean up,” she says, gesturing to the tables. “Before you go, I did want to go over your account, just to make sure all the services you want are booked and the charges are paid for.”
“I believe we paid in full upfront.” Mom’s eyebrows knit together. “Surely there aren’t additional charges because of your inability to properly protect your property from rain.”
An icy smile turns Matilda’s lips. “No, there wouldn’t be anything extra related to that. It’s just something we need to check off the list. Let’s head to my office and take a look.”
With a haughty tilt of her chin, Mom starts for the door, not even pausing to let Matilda lead the way. I hike my purse up my shoulder and start to follow when something on the lawn outside catches my eye.
It’s a white work van with a blue logo on the side. I saw Theo in a polo with that logo on it when we were here last week, but I hadn’t paid much attention to it. Now, with the words Hoyt Landscaping stretching across the side of the van in blue, I can see that the dot on the i is actually a tiny star.
In the split second that my breath is caught in my throat, I made a decision.
“Mom,” I say, and wait for her to turn back toward me. “I’m going to go outside and call Daniel, just to make sure he’s okay with everything before we settle the account.”
“You could have called him earlier, when we were actually making the decisions.”
I move toward her, heels clicking on the floor. “I know, but he doesn’t like to be interrupted at work. He’s probably on lunch now.”
Mom looks skeptically at her watch, apparently doubtful that someone would be taking their lunch at half past noon. Of course, Daniel generally has food delivered to the office so he doesn't have to take a break, but she doesn’t need to know that. “Let’s go then,” she says. “Text me if we need to make any last-minute changes.”
“Sure,” I say, and wait for her and Matilda to turn the corner before I slip outside.
I stand on the patio and gaze out over the lawn, which looks significantly better than the last time we were here. Most of the water has been drained; only a few sparse puddles remain. I spot three men standing in a circle near the van, sipping from water bottles. The one with his back to me is shorter than the rest, and my heart leaps into my throat until he turns to spit into the grass. It’s not Theo.
“Looking for me?”
The voice comes out of nowhere, inches from my ear, and I jump back with my hand pressed to my chest. “Holy crap,” I gasp.
Theo smirks at me. “How ladylike of you, Nina Lynn.”
There’s an uncomfortable jolt inside of me, and I purse my lips, embarrassed and annoyed. All I wanted was to see if he was here and maybe talk to him—on my own terms. Being ambushed again almost makes me wish I’d just gone to Matilda’s office with my mom.
“I was just about to call my fiancé ,” I say, stressing the last word.
“Sure.” His tone is conversational, and he rocks back on his heels, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans. When he stood that way in school, Mrs. Everett always told him that he looked like a ruffian. “After you were done staring at my guys, right?”
“Yes, Theo,” I say sarcastically. “I just needed a moment to reign in my unbridled lust for a bunch of guys in dirty jeans and shirts with your name on them.”
I’m about to turn on my heel and march back inside, but then Theo bursts out laughing, and I freeze. His head is thrown back, sharp nose outlined against the sky, and the guffaw rumbling from his chest as familiar to me as the sound of my own name.
It’s been ten years since I last heard Theo Hoyt laugh, and until right this moment, I forgot—or maybe just chose not to remember—that it used to be my favorite sound in the world.
His laughter fades into a low chuckle, and then he's just standing there grinning at me. Several seconds go by before I realize that I’m smiling back. Quickly, I try to school my expression, but Theo’s grin only widens at my attempt to glare at him.
“Damn it,” he says softly. “I missed you, Sass.”
“Don’t call me that.” I repeat what I said last week, but it’s pointless. My voice comes out soft, with not a trace of venom. I use my left hand to brush my hair over my shoulder, making sure to point my engagement ring at Theo.
It doesn’t hurt to remind myself it’s there, either.
“So,” Theo says. “I didn’t get a chance to ask last week, with you yelling at me and all. What's he like?”
I blink. “Who?”
He raises his eyebrows. “The fiancé whose ring you just flashed at me. The one you were about to call?”
“Oh, right.” I clear my throat and fixate on the sky above Theo. I count six clouds before returning my attention to him, feeling marginally more grounded. “His name is Daniel. He’s an investment banker on Wall Street.”
“Wall Street?” Theo sounds surprised. “Where do you live?”
“New York. On the Upper East Side.”
“Fancy.” Theo adjusts the baseball cap on his head. His hair is long enough to curl around the brim—longer than I would expect this time of year. “What else?”
I blink at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you didn’t answer my question. I didn’t ask what his job is. I asked what he’s like. ”
My tongue is heavy in my mouth as I search for something to say. The adjectives that come immediately to mind—uptight, serious, conventional—aren’t what he is looking for, and I know they won’t come off as flattering to Theo. I try to think of the last time Daniel and I went on a date that wasn’t also a work event for him. When did we last eat a meal or watch a show or even laugh together?
When I don’t answer, a shadow crosses over Theo’s face. He takes a step closer to me. There’s less than a foot of space between us now. Against my own will, I remember our last night together, how we lay in bed talking with our faces close like this—closer, even—until sleep took us.
My heart begins to pound. Theo’s gaze flicks to the base of my throat, and when understanding crosses his face, I know that he can see my pulse fluttering.
“See, Sass,” he begins quietly. I don’t bother correcting him. “I was hoping you’d say that he’s kind and takes you on adventures and makes you laugh. I told myself that if he was a good guy who makes you happy, I’d say congratulations and leave you alone.”
“He is a good guy,” I argue belatedly.
“If he was, you wouldn’t have frozen up when I asked about him. And you sure as hell wouldn’t have led with the fact that he’s an investment banker.” Theo’s gaze locks onto mine. “And you know what? You wouldn’t be looking at me like that, either.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I suddenly remember that I’m supposed to be texting Mom so she can finalize the bill. “I need to go.”
“Wait,” Theo says, touching my wrist. It’s just a graze of fingers against my skin, but it feels like a live wire is zipping up my arm. I yank my hand away, and he gives me an apologetic look.
“What is it?” I snap.
From his pocket, Theo produces a business card and a pen. He scribbles something on it, then holds it out to me. I see the logo, the star, his name. And, in the messy chicken scratch I remember, the same phone number he had as a teenager. “My personal cell is the same as it always was,” he tells me. “I kept it in case you ever wanted to reach me.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Mine is different,” I murmur.
“I know. Some guy who works in a butcher shop has your old number now.” He pauses, letting the words land. I wonder when he last tried to call. How long it took him to give up on me. “Call me, text me, whatever. Anytime. Day or night.”
“No,” I say, but he refuses to lower his hand. My phone buzzes again, and, growing flustered, I reach out and snatch the card. “Fine. Don’t hold your breath.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I learned my lesson about that.”
I’m in the process of turning my back on him when the sharp words land, striking a dormant nerve. A beat of silence stretches into more as I try to convince myself that I’m going to walk away.
My indignation wins out, and I round on Theo slowly, waiting to see if he’s going to take back his own indignant response. But Theo always was stubborn, and he’s just standing there with his eyebrows raised, daring me to challenge him.
“I called you,” I tell him, my voice carefully measured. “I called you a lot .”
“You called me for three days and stopped.”
“Because you never answered. And you turned your phone off.”
“Nina.” He tips his head back momentarily, shoulders heaving with a sigh. “My parents were beside themselves, and I was scared shitless, okay? I thought I was going to jail.”
Nausea churns in my gut at the unwelcome memory of a teenaged Theo standing on the side of the highway in handcuffs, chin tucked into his chest. I was trying so hard to get one more glimpse of his face, but he refused to look up. From the time we were little kids, Theo was always so capable, so confident. Not that day. I remember thinking that I’d never seen him look so small.
My hands drop uselessly at my sides. “So, what? I was supposed to keep calling, even though you were ignoring me?”
Theo crosses his arms. He’s all lean muscle now—the result of manual labor, I suppose. “You were supposed to know what you mean to me. I was going to come for you, just like I said.”
I spare a thought for his word choice— what you mean to me, present tense—but frustration wells up and takes over. I remember the pain of being ripped away from Theo so vividly. I must have called him forty times in those first days after we were separated. When the calls started going straight to voicemail, of course I got the message that he wanted nothing to do with me anymore—what else was I supposed to think?
As far as I was concerned, Theo had abandoned me, and it left me absolutely bereft. It was weeks before I got out of bed, months before I began to emerge from the fog in my head. Years before I accepted that he was gone from my life.
And now here he is, standing in the place where I’ll soon marry someone else, acting like it’s my fault.
I lower my voice, even though we’re alone on the patio. It’s the only way I can maintain my composure. “Nothing happened to you. I’ve looked it up. There were no charges. You could have picked up the phone.”
“The second I knew I was in the clear,” he says, matching my volume, “I tried. My parents hired this dumbass lawyer who took a week to figure out that North Carolina is a Romeo and Juliet state. There was absolutely nothing to pin on me. I was trying to call you back literally mid-conversation as he was telling us that, but your phone was disconnected by then.”
I fixate on the tiny star on his chest. “My mom took it.”
“I called your parents and your brother, and of course they ignored me. I went to your family’s house, and nobody was there. I looked everywhere for you, Nina.” His voice cracks on my name, and I glance up to find pain etched into his features. “I looked fucking everywhere.”
Not everywhere. I may have had enough pride not to keep calling after he ignored me, but I wasn’t hiding from him. In the Raleigh house an hour away that my parents hurriedly moved us to, I was spending my days staring out the window, very much waiting to be found.
“Theo—”
“Nina Lynn!”
We both jump as my mother sticks her head out onto the patio. Her eyes widen slightly when she notices Theo there, but she quickly schools her expression. “Oh, so this is why you aren’t answering your phone,” she says with fake cheer. “Theo. It’s nice to see you again.”
He ducks his chin. “Nice to see you, ma’am.”
Mom turns her sharp gaze on me. “Nina, did Daniel want any changes? Or did you get a chance to speak to him yet?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, I talked to him. You can go ahead and sign off.”
“Great.”
The three of us stand in awkward silence for a long moment, and I have the feeling that I’m in a standoff of some kind.
“You should probably come in with me,” she says finally, her tone making it clear that this is not a suggestion. “Just to make sure everything is as you want it, and then I need to get home and pack. Travis is taking me to the Catskills for the weekend.”
I nod slowly. “Right. I’m coming.”
“Great,” Mom says again, and steps back so she can hold the door open for me.
I feel like I’m seventeen again, not daring to look at Theo for fear of what my mother will see. I slip back inside, subtly dropping his card in my purse even though I still know that number by heart.