Chapter 17 Theo
Theo
If this place could bottle the sense of wellbeing it radiates, the owners would all be billionaires.
I suspected I’d find it impressive. I didn’t expect to be transfixed by it.
Evelyn and her team have nailed the combination of quiet luxury with a restorative retreat.
God only knows how much money Miles had to throw at them to clear the resort of their pre-bookings for July.
But I can’t help but be impressed by his and Saoirse’s choice of wedding venue.
Lunch manages to be both idyllic and stimulating.
Nora’s trying her best to hide it, but she’s absolutely wired.
I can tell she just wants to get rid of us all and huddle in a corner with her laptop so she can process the ideas she, Saoirse and Evelyn are generating and impose some sort of order on them. In Excel, obviously.
This visit is more of a general recce and high-level brainstorming session.
The next one, Evelyn tells us, will involve her onsite events team and a full tasting session for the wedding’s canapes, dinner and wines.
I can definitely get on board with my best man’s role for the second half of that proposition.
If the food we’ve eaten today is any indication, the wedding will be an incredible culinary experience.
I’m having a surprisingly good time here.
My grumpy-arse brother is on pretty good form.
I’m sure it has nothing to do with having three beautiful women to charm, even if he only has eyes for one of them.
His bride’s looking as hot as ever today in a flirty little dress, and Miles doesn’t let her out of his sight, or away from his touch, for a second.
And Evelyn’s definitely an excellent lunch companion. The woman is groomed to perfection, absolutely gorgeous, and great at carrying a conversation. She’s energetic and inspiring and self-deprecating. I’m not surprised Nora’s got a boner for her.
But it’s my little Nora who holds my attention through the delicious alfresco lunch and the bottle of perfectly chilled rosé we share.
She’s still pretty stiff around me, most of the time, and though I enjoy winding her up and watching her coil tighter and tighter, I’m loving this hyper-engaged, enthusiastic version of her.
Her left brain and right brain seem in perfect sync as she suggests ideas, spins rapidly through problems and spits out solutions.
She’s in a flow state down here, and I love it. She’s hot as hell when she’s on a roll, talking excitedly and waving her hands around, painting pictures. She takes notes and doodles suggestions and bites down on her pen in a way that’s adorable and pretty damn sexy.
I’ve got to admit, I’m having fun playing the role of her boyfriend today.
No one here but Nora and I know the truth, so I have all the pretext I need to be physically affectionate with her.
My arm lingers on the back of her chair and I brush my fingertips up the velvety skin exposed by the back of her dress.
I rub her shoulder with my thumb pad. When we get up from the table, I keep hold of her waist. Evelyn comments that we’re a gorgeous couple, and the satisfied smirk I give her isn’t totally faked.
Even my brother seems to treat me differently when Nora’s around.
Worst case, he’s showing me the basic courtesy of not belittling me or ripping the piss out of me when my ‘girlfriend’ is around.
Best case, he’s taking me more seriously because he perceives me to be playing nicely.
It does feel pretty grown up of us to be meandering around a resort as couples and discussing wedding plans (his, not mine, thank fuck).
Miles and Saoirse need to take off after lunch to go get Bea from nursery school, but I’m in no rush. As long as we hit London before rush hour, I’m relaxed.
‘You guys should hang around,’ Evelyn tells us. ‘Enjoy the weather. Go hang in the Walled Garden, if you like. We’ve got towels if you want a swim.’
‘We didn’t bring swimming costumes.’ Nora leans into me. ‘So please don’t put the idea in Theo’s head, because I suspect he doesn’t need much encouragement to skinny dip.’
‘That’d clear the pool pretty fucking quickly,’ Miles mutters, and Evelyn’s lips quirk.
‘Maybe stick to the loungers, then.’
I snigger and kiss the top of Nora’s glossy head, holding her tightly against my side so she can’t escape. ‘Your guests have no idea what they’re missing. But it’s fine—I’ll save the show for my lucky girlfriend.’
Nora snorts pointedly, but she lets me hold her. Which makes me weirdly fucking happy. I stand there, cuddling her as the others say their goodbyes.
Miles kisses Evelyn. ‘Thanks, Ev. It’s been great.’ He straightens up and looks around for Saoirse. ‘I can’t believe we’ll be getting married here in a couple of months, baby.’
Is that—is he tearing up? Jesus Christ. I slap him on the arm.
‘Get it together, bro, for God’s sake.’
‘I’m fine.’ He sniffs. ‘Just feeling like a very lucky man, that’s all.’
I’m not sure who the hell this man is, and what Saoirse’s done with my gruff, emotionally stunted brother. Next, he’ll be ending his texts with hashtag-blessed.
I shake my head as he ambles off, arm firmly around Saoirse, trying to pull himself together.
Seriously.
‘I don’t bite.’ I pat the seat of the sun lounger. It’s massive—easily enough for two people.
‘I know you don’t. I just—we don’t need to put on a cosying-up-together show. It’s just us now.’ Nevertheless, Nora deigns to sit down gingerly on the lounger. She pulls her legs up and leans back, connecting with my waiting arm. I pull her into me.
‘Come here.’
‘What are you doing?’ she huffs, but she allows me to pull her closer to me.
‘I want a hug.’
‘Why?’ She’s giving me some serious side-eye. Nora Wilder: licence to kill with a single disapproving glare.
‘Because I love hugs. I need them—the cosier, the better.’
‘Okay, Olaf.’ She laughs and pats my knee, but her body relaxes a fraction against mine. ‘Did no one hug you enough when you were younger, you poor little middle child?’
‘On the contrary, I got hugged a lot. I was very cute and huggable.’
Nora tilts her face up towards mine, an amused smile on her lips. ‘Ugh. I can imagine you were, unfortunately. And you need validating hugs from me so you still feel cute and huggable?’
‘Something like that, yeah.’ I pause, enjoying her face from close up.
She really is beautiful. Those fucking Disney princess eyes.
They get me every time. And there’s something about being out of London, about being here, with her, in this gorgeous place.
Like real life is suspended for a moment, and we can just be who we want to be. Do what we want to do. No pretence.
‘Besides,’ I continue. ‘I’d like to relentlessly exploit my fake girlfriend’s gorgeous body for sex. But if I can’t, I’ll relentlessly exploit it for cuddles.’
I use a jokey tone, but I don’t drop eye contact.
Don’t let her get away from my gaze while I deliver my passive-aggressive, let’s-throw-it-out-there line.
Because I’m serious. I could very easily, very quickly get on board with escalating this thing to a fake-relationship-with-real-benefits level.
And it seems stupid not to. Totally wasteful.
Those magical eyes widen in disbelief that I had the nerve to put myself out there like that, but she doesn’t look pissed off with me.
On the contrary, her lips widen just a bit, and a tiny crease appears between her eyebrows, like she’s trying to work me the hell out.
She collapses her head back against the lounger cushion and her eyes flick to my mouth, then back up to meet me.
‘You shouldn’t say things like that.’ She wiggles in my grip, and the strap of her sundress loses its battle and slips off her shoulder.
Her eyes are burning into mine, and I may be a delusional douche, but I could swear that despite her huffy tone, I’ve got her thinking.
About how it would be between us. I know, because I’ve spent way too much time recently thinking about how it would be.
And despite, or rather because of, her closed-off, prim and proper, judgmental demeanour, I know it would be hot as hell.
Undoing Nora Wilder would be a challenge.
A privilege.
Unwinding her. Stripping off those layers of guardedness and judgement until she’s a wanton, writhing mess who doesn’t give a flying fuck about what’s proper.
I twist further onto my side to face her properly.
Our faces are inches apart, and I would give anything right now to close that gap and suck her full bottom lip into my mouth.
To slide my tongue over it. To cup the bare shoulder her strap has vacated, and slip my hand down to yank our hips flush together, so she could feel how quickly our kiss makes me go hard against her.
I tighten my grip around her back and stare at her mouth as my other hand finds the dip of her waist and rests there.
‘I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable, sweetheart. Just stating facts. We’d be hot as fuck together.’
At the bottom edge of my peripheral vision, her chest heaves. Her hand has got wedged between us, and she puts a palm against my pecs, lowering her eyes to it and breaking the charged gaze between us. Shit.
‘The only thing you can exploit me for right now, Romeo, is hugs. Okay? Hug away. But no funny business.’
‘Got it.’ I exhale in frustration. ‘And funny business counts as what, exactly?’
She pulls her hand away from my chest. ‘If you have to ask, don’t do it.’
‘Right.’
‘Okay. Hug away.’
And so, poor fuck that I am, I take the family-friendly crumbs she’s offering and pull her to me so we’re leaning into each other, her breath warm through the linen of my shirt.
The hand that was on her waist curls around so I have her in my arms, and I allow my head to sink into the cushioned mattress as her arm tentatively encircles my waist.