36. Theo
36
THEO
I look at the document my financial advisor printed out for me. I’ll have to sell two of my houses on Oak Island. One of them is the first house Mia and I walked through. I told my financial advisor I would sell all my properties, if necessary, but I wasn’t willing to give up the “cabin” property Mia had liked so much. She had mentioned wanting to spend a night with me there at some point, and that’s not going to happen if it’s in Steve’s hands.
The important thing is the buyout is complete. Steve has signed everything. It’s officially my resort. Sink or swim, it’s up to me now.
It feels like I’ve been running for miles and miles. A sheen of sweat has broken out across my forehead, and my muscles feel just as tired as though I’ve been continuously exercising.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. The resort is eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioner. My thoughts drift to Mia. The last time we spoke, she was furious, her eyes blazing with betrayal. I can’t blame her. I kept too many secrets, thinking I was protecting her when, in reality, I was pushing her away.
I’ve done everything for her, but I’m putting off talking with her. And I realize, as I continue to sit there, that even if she doesn’t take me back, it will have been worth it. Steve was a stressor I didn’t need in my life. I’ll do better running this resort on my own without his constant criticism.
I have no idea if Mia will ever forgive me. I can only hope that when she learns what I have done, she might understand why I made those choices. It’s a gamble, but one I have to take.
As I begin to pack up my things to head home, placing files and personal items into boxes, my phone buzzes on the desk. I pick it up.
When I see Mia’s name on the screen, a jolt runs through me. She’s calling after a week of no communication. What can she want?
My phone continues to buzz, and I almost drop it. I suddenly remember that if I want to actually talk to her, I have to press the green “answer” button.
"Theo? It's Mia."
Hearing her voice brings a rush of emotions. I thought they had already worked their way through me but now, they’ve popped up again. "Mia, hi. It's good to hear from you." My voice sounds a little falsely cheerful, but I’m trying to cover up the fear that’s deep inside me.
There is a brief pause before she speaks again, her tone cautious. "Can we talk? I think we need to clear the air. It's…been a little while.”
"Of course," I say quickly, perhaps too quickly. "When and where?"
"How about dinner tomorrow night? Maybe that little fish grill on Main Street?"
"That sounds perfect. I'll be there at seven if that’s not too late."
"Okay. I'll see you then.” She hangs up a moment later. No goodbye or anything else, but my mind is already racing.
Tomorrow night. It isn't much time, but it’s something. A chance to explain myself, to apologize, to try to repair the damage I have done.
By the time evening rolls around the next day, I am a bundle of nerves. I change clothes at least three times, finally settling on something casual but neat. I don't want to look like I am trying too hard, but I also want to show her that I care. I don’t know the purpose behind the dinner, I realize. Is she wanting to talk to me to discuss business or something else? Maybe she wants to talk about our potential as a couple? Or am I being too hopeful thinking that?
As I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting my collar, I take a deep breath. "You can do this. Just be honest. Be sincere. She deserves the truth. Tell her how you feel about her."
I arrive at the restaurant a little early, hoping to gather my thoughts before Mia arrives. I order a glass of water and ask the waitress for a table in the back corner.
The minutes tick by slowly, and I suddenly think this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come early. I keep glancing at the door, waiting for Mia to walk in. My mind races with what I want to say and how I want to explain everything.
When Mia finally arrives, I stand up, my heart pounding in my chest. She looks beautiful, as always, in the flowing, beachy dress she’s wearing. I can tell by the little bit of stiffness in the way she walks that she’s not quite open or comfortable with me. Not yet. Maybe that can change.
"Thank you for meeting me,” I say as Mia reaches the table.
She swallows and looks at me, then at the table. She finally sticks out her hand, and I realize she wants to shake my hand. My heart sinks. If we’re starting this dinner with a handshake instead of a kiss or even a hug, then it’s clear where this is going.
I shake Mia’s hand and then take the seat across from her, ready for whatever bad news she might have for me.