28 | Rebound
Dinner was a study in contrasts.
Tom on my left, warm and attentive, telling stories that made David laugh and asking questions that suggested he’d been paying attention to our conversations over the past months.
Bailey settled at my feet halfway through the first course, her head heavy and content against my ankle, and Tom smiled like even his dog knew where he wanted to be.
Theo sat on my right, quiet in a way that felt deliberate, his fork moving food around his plate more than actually eating it.
When I tried to pull him into the conversation he gave short answers, polite but distant, and every time Tom's hand brushed my arm reaching for the wine or leaning close to hear me over the music, I felt Theo go more still beside me.
Lidia watched us from across the table with that knowing expression I was starting to recognize, and Vanessa made pointed comments about successful partnerships and perfect matches that seemed aimed at no one and only me at once.
By the time dessert arrived, I couldn’t take it anymore.
The tension radiating from Theo was palpable, a tightness in his shoulders and jaw that made him look like he was enduring something rather than enjoying it, and I didn’t understand what had shifted between the terrace and now but I knew I needed to fix it.
“I’m tired,” I said, setting down my napkin and turning to him. “Should we go?”
He looked at me, surprise flickering across his face. “You sure?”
“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”
Relief washed over his features so quickly he couldn’t hide it, and something in my chest tightened at the realization that he’d been waiting for permission to leave.
We made our excuses—David understanding, Tom disappointed but gracious—and walked out into the cool night air with silence stretching between us like something physical.
The path back to our cottage wound through the resort gardens, lit by low landscape lights that turned everything soft and golden, and I watched Theo walk beside me with his hands shoved in his pockets and his gaze fixed somewhere ahead.
“If I didn’t know better,” I said finally, “I’d think you were jealous.”
He didn’t look at me. “I don’t have the right to be jealous.”
“What?”
“I’m just a rebound.”
I stopped walking. “What are you talking about?”
He stopped too, turned to face me with something raw and uncertain in his expression.
“You said it yourself. Rebound. And now it turns out you have someone who’s been waiting for you, someone successful and appropriate who doesn’t come with years of baggage.”
His jaw tightened. “Is that what I am? A pit stop before Henderson?”
“That’s not—” I stared at him. “That’s not what I meant—”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I meant you were too important to be rebound, not that you were—” I broke off, frustrated that he couldn’t see what felt obvious to me. “God, you really think I’d—”
“I don’t know what to think.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I watched you with him tonight. The way you smiled, the way you laughed. You were comfortable.”
“He’s a client—”
“He’s more than that and you know it.”
Something shifted in my chest, frustration replacing confusion, and I took a step closer to him. “You ARE jealous.”
“I told you, I don’t have the right—”
“Bullshit.” I moved closer still, watching his eyes track the movement. “You’ve been tense all evening. Barely eating, barely talking. Watching me like—” I paused, then pushed deliberately. “Does it bother you? Tom touching my arm? Sitting so close?”
“Tessa—”
“His hand on my shoulder?” I was close enough now to see his pupils dilate. “The way he looks at me?”
“Stop.”
“Why?” I tilted my head, something reckless rising in my chest. “You don’t have the right to be jealous, remember? So why does it matter if—”
He moved so fast I barely saw it coming, his hand fisting in my jacket as he pulled me into the shadows beside the path and backed me against the wall of someone’s private terrace.
His body pressed against mine, solid and warm, and his other hand came up to cup my jaw with a gentleness that contradicted the desperate edge in his voice.
“You want to know if I’m jealous?”
I couldn’t breathe.
THEO
“Watching him touch you—” I stopped, tried to find words that didn’t make me sound insane. “Watching him look at you like he had a chance—”
She stared up at me, lips parted, eyes wide in the dim light.
“I wanted to break his hand,” I said quietly. “Every time he touched you, every time he made you laugh, I wanted to—” I broke off, shook my head. “I know I don’t have the right to be jealous. But I’ve been jealous of every man who’s looked at you since I was sixteen years old.”
“Theo—”
“I don’t want to be a rebound.” My hand slid from her jaw, down the side of her neck, until my palm rested flat against her chest—over her heart, feeling it pound.
“We’re not temporary. You’re not—” I stopped, forehead dropping to rest against hers.
“You’re everything. And watching him tonight, knowing he’s been asking you out for months, that he was just waiting for you to be available—”
“I don’t want him.”
“You like him.”
“I like a lot of people.” Her hands came up to grip my shirt. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.” She pulled me closer, fierce suddenly. “You’re being an idiot.”
“Maybe.” I lifted my head to look at her. “But you’re the one who made me this way.”
Her breath caught. “Theo—”
I kissed her before she could finish, hard and claiming, and she made a sound against my mouth that went straight through me. Her back arched off the wall, her body pressing into mine, and when I pulled back we were both breathing hard.
“Tell me you don’t want anyone else,” I said.
“I don’t—”
My hand slid down her side, found the hem of her dress. “Say it.”
“I don’t want anyone else.”
I pushed the fabric up, fingers finding bare skin, and she gasped. “Just me.”
“Just—oh god—”
We were in shadow but not private.
Not even a little.
The path only meters away where anyone could walk by, and I didn’t care.
My hand moved higher, found heat and wetness, and she bit her lip to keep from making noise. The small sound she swallowed anyway went straight through me.
“Say it,” I said against her ear, working her slowly at first—circling, learning what made her breath catch, what made her hips push against my hand. “Tell me.”
“Just you.” Her head fell back against the wall. “Only—”
I pressed deeper. Her fingers dug into my shoulders.
“Say it again.”
“You.” Breathless. “Only you. Theo—please—”
I covered her mouth with mine, swallowing the sounds she made as I pushed her higher, faster—two fingers, then a curl, then steady relentless pressure until she was shaking against me, her whole body pulling tight.
She came apart with my name bitten into my shoulder, muffled, desperate, her thighs locking around my hand and her nails leaving marks I’d feel tomorrow.
I held her through every wave. Memorized the way she looked—head back, lips parted, chest heaving, utterly undone in the low light.
When she finally stilled, she opened her eyes and looked at me.
Her expression did something to my chest I didn’t have words for.
“You’re crazy,” she said.
I thought about the months of watching her. The years before that. Every man I’d wanted to put through a wall.
Tonight.
Henderson’s hand on her back.
“Yes,” I said. “I am.”
She laughed—breathless, a little wild—and pulled me down for another kiss.
TESSA
We walked back to the cottage in silence, but it was different now—his hand in mine, his thumb tracing patterns against my palm, the tension broken into something warmer.
At the door he paused, turned to me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For earlier. For thinking—”
“You were jealous.” I stepped closer. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”
He huffed a laugh. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I rose on my toes to kiss him. “But just so we’re clear—I’m not going anywhere.”
His arms came around me, solid and sure. “Good.”
“And that rebound material comment— you are too important to be temporary. I was scared of that. That's it.”
Something shifted in his expression, relief and understanding mixing with something deeper. “I know. I just—when I saw him with you, I panicked.”
“Don’t.” I touched his face. “I waited for you too you know?”
He kissed me again, slower this time, like we had all the time in the world.
“Come inside,” I said against his mouth.
“We’re not done?”
I smiled. “Not even close.”