Chapter 23
23
Evie spends the next two weeks tangled up in her three favorite things.
Work.
Dance.
Theo.
She’s finishing a cloth pass for a video game project when Sadie gets word from the studio that Evie’s mix of Save the Last Dance: The Musical has been approved. “The studio will verify your credit, so you can submit your application.”
Evie throws her arms around her mentor, then promptly bursts into tears because that’s what one does on the precipice of everything one has been working toward becoming a reality. Then, she goes home, to Theo, the first person she wants to tell. He’s always the first person she wants to share good news, bad news, any news with.
Because she loves him.
She’s always loved him.
Really, it’s an exhausting amount of work to not love him. When haven’t we needed each other like this? He whispered those words in the middle of the night and her brain wanted to push back, deny, refute, but her bones knew that he was right. Is right. And maybe some of Imogen’s bravery did seep into her marrow, because for the first time, Evie wonders how it would feel—who she would be, could be—if she trusted it.
Him.
Herself.
Evie enters their apartment and drops the stack of mail on the island next to his keys. She hears him at the end of the hall and follows the sound of his voice to find him sitting at his desk with noise-canceling headphones on.
“And the benefits package?” he asks his computer screen, oblivious to her presence in the doorframe. “Could HR forward that along, too?” Benefits? Is Theo leaving Foothill? She’s confused but not overly concerned. His benefits are great, but soon she’ll have union benefits that are also great. “Cool. Great. Yeah, I’ll discuss it with my wife and get back to you shortly. Thank you so much.”
Theo removes his headphones and lets them hang around his neck, entirely unaware that she’s leaning against his doorframe, heart exploding in her chest.
My wife.
My wife.
My wife .
Evie Bloom never wanted to be a wife.
But.
“What will you be discussing with your wife?”
“ Shit .” Theo jumps at the timbre of her voice, then spins around in his chair, scratching the back of his neck. Evie watches his Adam’s apple bob before he asks, “How much did you hear?”
“Are you leaving Foothill?”
He bites his lower lip. “Maybe.”
“Wow.” Evie enters his room and sits on the end of his bed, pressing her palms into the mattress. “Tell me more.”
“It’s a job in curriculum development. Elementary literacy curriculum, specifically. I’d be working on projects like diversifying reading lists, developing more inclusive curriculums for neurodivergent students, leading focus groups.” His mouth quirks, that hint of enthusiasm easing the tension in his shoulders. “I love teaching, I do . But I think I could really make a difference in this role? And after six months, they would subsidize my master’s. So.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“Yeah.”
Theo leaving teaching is so much to process, but it sounds incredible. Also, who would turn down free grad school in this economy?
“Theodore!” She pulls him in close, her entire body initially vibrating with joy for this man who she loves. Why didn’t he tell her? Did he not want to jinx it, to admit how much he wanted it? Evie can understand that. “There’s nothing to discuss. Seriously! I—”
“It’s in New York, Ev.”
“What?”
“The job.”
Evie doesn’t see it coming.
That’s the worst part.
“You’ve been… applying to jobs in New York?”
“Not jobs! Just this one. Caro sent me the listing and—”
“What the fuck?”
She stands. Paces, unsure whether to laugh or cry, because of course. Caro. Every time her guarded heart cracks open for him she’s ambushed by Caroline Shapiro-Huang . She’s seventeen again, Theo rejecting her earnest promposal because Caro beat her to it. She’s nineteen and on an airplane to surprise Theo and who is he hooking up with when she arrives? Caro. It’s the story of her life. A tragic comedy. Objectively hilarious. It’d be impossible. Leaving you. Did Theo say that to her before or after he applied to a fucking job in fucking New York because of fucking Caroline Shapiro-Huang?
“I’m sorry. This is a messed-up way to find out. I didn’t think I’d get it,” Theo says weakly. “Really, I thought it was a long shot. You’ve been so busy and we’ve been good and I didn’t want to be a distraction, to make this into a thing if it wasn’t going to be a thing.”
She’s sat on the end of his bed once more, bunching the navy duvet cover in her hands. “When would you start?”
“June. So I can finish out the school year.”
“Cool.” Evie opens Google on her phone, her mind racing. “Okay. Well. We should probably file the paperwork as soon as possible? I don’t know shit about divorce law or how long it will take. Probably something we should’ve checked before we became, like, legally tethered to each other? But I’m sure you don’t want to return to New York, to Caro , a married man—”
“Whoa—”
“On average it takes six months to finalize a divorce? Why? ”
“Ev. Slow down .” Theo stands. He sits next to her on his bed, so close she can feel his breath on her cheek. Evie scoots away, her rational brain needing the space to think. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you that I applied, but I would never just accept a job on the other side of the country without talking to you first. It’s a cool opportunity, but I’m also super happy here. I don’t have to take it.”
“Obviously you’re taking it.”
“Obviously?”
“I’m not a factor. Seriously! The studio just approved my mix for Save the Last Dance , so my union application should be approved by June. Honestly, I was so excited to tell you the news. We can file. This is over.”
Theo’s eyebrows knit together. “Is that what you want? Us to be over?”
“Take me out of the equation. Would you go?”
“Yeah. But—”
“Then you have to go.”
He blinks at her, looking so at a loss. “But that’s such a pointless question.”
“Theodore. Take the job. There’s nothing to discuss with your wife because we’re not actually married . You know that, right? This? Us? It isn’t real.”
Evie stands.
She needs to put more space between them, needs him to retreat.
Instead, Theo reaches for her wrist. “Come on. We both know that’s bullshit.”
Evie shakes her head. “Still.”
Still.
Still.
Still.
It’s an accidental admission that emboldens him to press his palm against hers, to weave their fingers together. “Ev. You are part of the equation. Always.”
Theo states this so simply, and she isn’t sure if there has ever existed a combination of words so tender, so terrifying.
“I don’t want to be.” Evie pulls her hand out of his and steps back, back, back because she can’t believe that this is happening again, her pushing him away for their own good. “You can’t stay for me.”
“I can .” Theo takes a deep, measured breath. Closes his eyes, then continues, “But also… you could come with me?”
“What?”
Evie remembers when Imogen told her about Denver, moments before plummeting down Big Thunder Mountain. It was easy. Saying yes. If she loves Theo, why does every bone in her body scream no ?
“New York was always our plan? Right?”
Sure. As children. When both their dreams led them there. Now his is within reach there, but she has a new dream, one that’s within reach right here. Still, Evie closes her eyes and tries to imagine herself in New York. She can’t. It’s exhausting to think about moving across the country, finding new doctors after years spent building trust with her current team of physicians, securing an apartment in an elevator building because no way in hell can she deal with endless stairs during flare-ups, living so close to Naomi.
No.
“I can’t move to New York. What am I supposed to do there?”
“There are Foley jobs! I did some research. Checked. Before I even applied.” Theo runs a hand through his hair, his ears turning pink. You are part of the equation. “You could freelance. Or work for a studio. I know it’s a competitive industry, but you’ll have Next in Foley on your résumé. So—”
“But I’m building a network here. I can’t just give that up. To what? Follow a man across the country?”
Theo flinches. “A man ?”
Evie continues, “Take the job. Why wouldn’t you?”
“ Because , Ev. I—”
“ Don’t .”
Silence.
Theo clenches his jaw.
Exhales.
Then he asks, “What are you so afraid of?”
You.
You.
You.
She crosses her arms and clutches her elbows. “I need a beat.”
Then Evie retreats to her room, a part of her hoping that he will follow, but she’s mostly just relieved that her tears can free-fall when he doesn’t.