Theo’s Epilogue #9
“What was going through your mind with her at the dinner when you had the ring in your pocket?”
The thing was taking clearer shape now. “I wanted to propose that night because I was afraid maybe something would happen and Audrey would leave. But it’s not her fault I’d think that.
She tells me all the time she would never leave me, she loves me too much, and she can’t lie.
She’s terrible at it, and I learned to pick out liars a long time ago.
What she tells me is true. I know this intellectually.
But it’s still my mind that has trouble believing it.
” His hand kept moving, kept circling, shading, lining, forming, filling.
“What else, Theo? Any other reasons?”
“Yes.” His brows knit together more firmly.
He could feel the mountain range rise between his eyes, hardening his expression.
Darkness began to overtake the pad. “I had the thought that I needed to marry her because that way, I could take care of her if I died. I could give her an inheritance with my trusts, or if not that, then with my investment income. I could keep her safe that way.”
“Do you think you’re going to die soon?”
“No. Yes. Sometimes.” He chewed absently on his bottom lip as he drew.
“Sometimes I think about dying, and I’d never forgive myself if I left her, especially now.
She has no one, except for me and her foster mom down in Florida and a few friends.
They’re good, solid friends, and they love her, but not like how I love her.
” He shook his head sharply. “I know her.
Maybe not every single detail, not yet, but I know her.
I know her in my bones, in my soul, and I love her so deeply I feel it there too.
I love her with my whole body and heart and soul, and I want to take care of her.
“I have more than enough. I have too much. I want to share it, but she won’t let me.
What if something happens? What if something goes wrong?
What if I throw a blood clot and die? If I did that and we weren’t married, I can’t take care of her if I’m gone.
What if she can’t pay those loans off and she loses her job and goes hungry again?
What if she’s alone again?” He tried to shove down a sob, but failed.
The despairing thought was overwhelming.
A tear escaped his right eye and slid down the length of his scar, dropping onto the sketch and blurring some of its darkness.
“So you love her, and you want to make sure she’s taken care of. Those are noble reasons to propose, Theo.”
“But—”
“But are they the right ones? Are they coming from the right place?”
His hand spasmed, splattering ink over part of the paper where he hadn’t intended for it to go.
But it didn’t matter. He was done anyway, and he dropped the pen when electricity jolted again through his fingers, jerking him partially out of his reverie.
He grabbed it before it could roll onto the expensive Persian rug beneath his feet and scrambled to cap it before he made a bigger mess.
And then he actually looked at his drawing.
It was horrifying. A black, twisting specter vaguely in the shape of a gigantic, ephemeral shadow-man burst forth from Theo’s stomach.
It was wrapped around him and bent over his shoulders, its large, bulbous head tilted forward and down while it crouched over him threateningly.
Something about it was almost spiderlike in the movement he’d evoked.
But that wasn’t the most disturbing part. The shadow-thing’s hands were wrapped around Theo’s neck, tenderly caressing his skin like a lover might all while long, distended fingers choked the life out of him.
Whenever he panicked, he couldn’t breathe.
“Is it male or female? Does it have a gender?”
“It’s male,” he muttered. Theo blinked and recoiled in disgust. He hadn’t been expecting to draw anything at all, much less something like that, and so fast. What the fuck was this?
He finally glanced back up at Amelia. Her notepad was covered in writing.
Had she hypnotized him or something? He turned the sketchbook around and showed her the drawing. She took it and analyzed it silently.
But she didn’t seem bothered by what he’d drawn—in fact, she seemed exceedingly pleased. She finished her notes with a satisfied nod and handed him back the sketchbook.
“How do you feel about not proposing, given what you just drew?”
As much as he didn’t want to look at it again, he made himself.
That seed of panic in his stomach grew all over again, and he rubbed a hand across his torso, trying to quell it.
“I felt like it was too soon. And I was right.” He shook his head.
“We’ve only been together a few months. I mean, I don’t want to rush it anyway, I was going to wait no matter what, but…
I thought I was ready. I actually thought I was ready, but if this is what was looming over me? I’m not. I’m definitely not.”
He held up the drawing again, brandishing it frantically in front of her. “I-I don’t want this to be the foundation of my marriage, Amelia. I don’t want this looming over me, over us. I don’t want to build a life or a family based on fear. I want it—him—gone.”
A tiny, knowing smile tugged at the therapist’s lips. “Well done, Theo. Great work today.” She pointed at the drawing with her pen. “There’s your demon. Now that we know what he looks like, we can fight him—together. You’re not alone. I’ll help you.”
When he went home that day, he couldn’t say he felt great. But he did feel more prepared, somehow.
He wasn’t ready, but that was okay. Now he knew why.
He still had a demon to exorcise.
He’d promised Audrey that he’d keep her safe from monsters—including his own.
And he wasn’t letting it anywhere near her.
The art of timing was everything.
It was something both he and Audrey had in common.
When working with glass, you have to know when it’s ready, when it’s tempered, when it’s the perfect time to pull, to bend and shape, to manipulate and form it into what you envision it to be before it cools and hardens.
Coffee was the exact same.
If you pull an espresso shot too early, it isn’t developed yet. The flavor is too weak, too unsteady, not robust enough to serve as the foundation of a drink. Wait too long, pull too late, and it becomes bitter.
The art of timing a proposal was everything.
Of course Theo thought about asking her at the gala.
He had the ring tucked in his inside jacket pocket, just in case he changed his mind.
And they looked so good together, it would have been so easy.
He could have proposed, had Wesley drive them to the airport, thrown down his credit card at the ticket counter, and caught a first-class flight straight to Vegas.
They had twenty-four-hour chapels there.
They were dressed and ready. The pictures would be perfect.
He thought about it.
It was possible.
But he didn’t act on it. The moment didn’t feel right yet. Their foundation wasn’t ready. It was new, and the materials were strong, but their mortar hadn’t yet set. Their glass wasn’t tempered. Their espresso wasn’t developed.
That, and the impulse was still tinged with too much desperation for his liking. A little too much panic, a little too much fear of loss rather than the thrill of the future. He felt his demon wrapping its fingers around his throat again.
And besides, their friends and family would kill them.
He knew his mother would. Diego would be even worse about it, and he didn’t want to even think about what Violet would do.
Smother him in his sleep, probably. Then perform a ritual to summon his soul back from Hell so she could kill him again—with Diego’s help, most likely.
Better not chance it. Things were going too well.
Theo let the thought pass. He breathed, he relaxed, and he waited.
But this time, letting the desire go didn’t twist in his gut the same way it had before. This time, he focused on Audrey, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself in the process.
He stopped worrying about it so much.
How could he worry, when life with her tasted so sweet?
Like strawberries and honey.
When Audrey moved in with him, Theo’s life started all over again.
It felt like he was really being given a second chance.
It was everything he could have wanted.
She started her new job about a week later, and Theo surprised her when she got home by filling the house with fresh flowers.
He loved the way she lit up when she saw them, and after that, he made sure to always have some around, in the kitchen or on her bedside table.
He even made a few glass vases to keep them in, just for her. Just because.
Just because the flowers reminded him of her.
So soft, and so sweet.
They fell into a new routine. When Audrey didn’t have to get up at four in the morning anymore, she started sleeping—really, truly sleeping, first until six, then seven, then eight.
She’d always seemed to sleep better with him around anyway, but now he thought it was because she finally felt truly safe and secure under his roof and in his arms. Now she felt protected. Or, at least, he liked to think so.
On her second weekend as a full-time engineer, she was so tired, she accidentally slept until noon.
Theo let her. She looked like an angel freshly tumbled down to earth, hair spread wildly around her face and across their pillow, dark lashes fanning delicately across her cheeks, mouth open and drooling slightly on his shoulder while she snored softly into his neck.
Beautiful.
A king bed, and she mostly insisted on sleeping on top of him, even now.
She was chaotic and precious, even in her dreams.