Chapter 24
24
Theo throws back a “Honey I’m Home”-a Paloma like a shot, not a themed cocktail meant to be nursed. Micah and Pranav are hosting a housewarming party at their West Hollywood condo. It’s a two-bedroom in an elevator building, with an open floor plan that has plenty of natural light for Micah’s plants, furnished with an eclectic mix of contemporary and vintage pieces that somehow all work together. Theo counts the attendees, who range from casual acquaintances to total strangers, then stops at twenty-five and marvels at the fact that over twenty-five people can exist in this space and there’s still room to breathe. How? He pours another Paloma. Theo sat in traffic for an hour. Alone, because Evelyn needs a beat. It’s been a week and he’s not sure what pisses him off more—that he didn’t tell her sooner or that she reacted just how he knew she would. He stops thinking about it the moment the tequila burns hot in his throat.
“Cohen!” Pranav embraces Theo, positively glowing in homeownership. “You made it!”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Theo says, handing him Trader Joe’s most expensive bottle of wine. “This space is awesome.”
“Is this you forfeiting, Singh?” an unfamiliar voice yells from the living room, where a chessboard is set up, midgame. “Smart move!”
“I will never surrender!” Pranav bellows, then looks at Theo. “Excuse me.”
“Garrett’s been a grand master since he was, like, ten.” Theo’s eyes shift to a woman standing at the opposite end of the island, who’s scanning the wine selection before ultimately selecting a bottle of red. “Pranav’s pretty screwed.”
Theo tips his cocktail. “But we love his delusion.”
“We sure do.” The woman laughs, clinking her wineglass against his. Tattoos cover her left arm, a fine-line botanical sleeve. He’d compliment them, if he were to flirt with her. Or her eyes. They’re pretty. Objectively. Clear blue, rimmed with gold charcoal. She’s dressed in low-rise jeans and a black tube top, the ends of her brunette bob skimming her shoulders. “I’m Claire.”
“I’m married.”
Claire smirks. “And I’m a lesbian.”
Theo nods.
He needs to cool it with the fruity cocktails.
“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair, then holds it out. “Theo.”
Claire works in ad sales at the same company as Pranav, but her dream is to be a stand-up comedian. She introduces herself not to flirt with Theo, but to tell him that she has a monthly stand-up show at the Elysian and to pass him a card with her Instagram handle and a QR code linking to her performance schedule.
“This isn’t a networking event, Claire-Bear,” Micah chastises, appearing out of nowhere, then booping her on the nose after he puts down the stack of catering trays. “We talked about this.”
“And I hear you!” Claire says, then sips her wine. “I do. But then I merely said hello to this man and he needed to inform me of his marital status.” Micah’s cackle is so loud, it interrupts her defense. “What’s for dinner?”
“Chipotle,” Micah says, eyes crinkling in the corners. “In all fairness, if I had a face like Theo’s, I’d also assume everyone wants to fuck me.”
“Fuck off.”
Micah boops him. “Nope.”
Theo stands to help set up the buffet as if they’re still roommates, as if he knows where the cutlery is. He doesn’t. So he removes the foil from the trays. Makes himself useful as Claire and Micah continue to roast him and he should’ve stayed home… except being home right now is unbearable.
“Where’s Evie?” Micah asks.
“Home.” Theo dips a chip in the bowl of guac. “She needs a beat.”
Claire’s brow furrows. “A beat?”
“Come again?” Micah asks.
“It’s my fault.” A small floof presses against Theo’s calf, sending his gaze down to the twelve-pound menace he misses so much. “Hey, Puck.” Puck hisses when Theo bends down, scoops him into his arms, and cradles him like a baby. “I sort of got offered a job in New York… and never told her I applied for a job in New York?”
Claire blinks. “Wait. You applied for a job in New York without telling your wife ?”
The crowd that has circled around Pranav and Garrett roars. It gives Claire an out, who swipes her wineglass off the counter, mutters, “ Men ,” under her breath, then gravitates toward the commotion just as Pranav squeals, “Shit! Am I winning ?” Theo is curious enough to join, more than happy not to discuss the beat that’s taken over his life. But Micah keeps him in the kitchen.
“Talk.”
Theo shrugs.
Repeats, “I fucked up.”
“Not to me , Cohen.”
“I can’t.”
“Because she needs a beat?”
“Yeah.”
Theo spills his guts to his former roommate about his current roommate, his best friend, his wife. Tells Micah the truth. I love her. States it so plainly, so obviously, and it terrifies him. Hasn’t it always? Isn’t it, on some level, why he applied for the curriculum coordinator position? He knows Evelyn Bloom enough to anticipate her reaction, that history would repeat, that she’d push him away. Theo knew . Yet he applied.
“Okay. So.” Micah drums his fingers on the quartz countertop. “Just to be clear. You can’t talk to her until she wants to talk to you?” Theo tosses back what is left of his drink and considers for the first time how often those four words— I need a beat —are wielded to end a conversation, oftentimes before it even begins. “You know that’s not cool, right? Disengaging when shit gets real is… super unhealthy.”
Still, his instinct is to push back. “Ev just needs some space to process. You know?”
Micah shakes his head. “Theo? I’m going to say this as gently as possible, because I love you. Get the fuck out of my house.”
“I can’t drive.”
“I’m requesting an Uber. I’ll drop your car off before my lab tomorrow.”
“You have a Saturday lab?”
“Go home, Theo. Talk to your wife.”
“Micah.”
“Karl with a K will be here in five minutes.”
An eruption of cheering pulls Micah’s focus before Theo can push back, shifting his gaze toward the living room as Pranav jumps to his feet, then onto the couch.
“Checkmate, bitch .”
Theo spends the next forty-five minutes in the back seat of Karl with a K’s Lexus LS emboldened by two-and-a-half fruity cocktails and Micah Solomon. You know that’s not cool, right? Honestly? No. Theo has never much thought about how these beats make him feel. Six weeks, when she attended a dance intensive in Santa Barbara. Five days, after he admitted to being the reason she got into her fellowship. Four years, following the aftermath of spring break. Well. Evelyn would never call their college years a beat . It’s not like they ever stopped talking. No. They just got busy.
Busy.
Busy.
Busy.
Bullshit.
Theo fumbles with his keys, standing on the doormat of their apartment. Is he a doormat? Does he ever consider how anything makes him feel? I need a beat. Evelyn may utter the words, but Theo latches on to them as permission to avoid, to deny, to not feel anything at all. Inside, he flips a light switch, his eyes instantly drawn toward the stack of papers on the kitchen island, thick and held together with a binder clip. In bold are three words that he saw coming.
PETITION TO DIVORCE
Cool.
Theo saw this coming, but it’s still a fucking blow to the chest. His whole life, Evelyn Bloom has dictated the terms of their relationship, and it was always enough for him, to just be in her life.
Talk to your wife.
His heart leads him to her room and he knocks, his knuckles rapping the hollow wood twice before he twists the doorknob and lets himself in to find Evelyn wrapped in her electric blanket, watching Grey’s Anatomy on her laptop. Katherine Heigl is on the screen. Classic Grey ’s. An episode she’s likely seen countless times.
“Hey.”
“Are you okay?”
Evelyn shrugs. “Honestly, it’s been an up-and-down week. Pain-wise.”
Same.
Theo pushes that thought away because it’s different, their pain. It is different. Obviously. She scoots over, makes space for him, and he folds because it’s an olive branch, because she’s in pain, so his pain can wait. Theo strips his street clothes and climbs into her bed. Wraps his arms around her and sighs when she snuggles into him and rests her head on his heart and it hurts. She hurts. He removes his glasses and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Always, he let Evelyn set the boundaries, let her take a beat , let her push him away. Never pushed back because it was easier to leave it be, to bury his feelings, to safeguard his heart. Because isn’t to love to lose?
But this hurts, too.
This hurts, too.
“I’m sorry,” Evelyn says, pressing her thumb against his cheek. “For my reaction. I didn’t see it coming. I’m not sure why. You sort of belong in New York, Theodore? I’m happy for you. I promise .”
Theo turns his head so their foreheads touch. “Do you want to be with me?”
“I don’t want to be married.”
“That’s not the question.”
“I can’t move to New York.”
“Also not the question.”
Her brow furrows. “Have you been drinking?”
“Not really?” Theo frowns. “I had, like, two drinks at Micah and Pranav’s. Then took an Uber home because we need to—”
“No.” Evelyn pushes him, literally pushes him away. “I don’t want to do this right now.”
“I do.”
The weight of those words settles between them.
I.
Do.
“I’m not drunk,” Theo continues. His voice is so solid, so sure . “We need to talk about us. I want to talk about us. I’m done not talking about—”
“Theodore. There is no us .”
“Ev—”
“I got the paperwork started.”
“I saw. But—”
“It’s a straightforward process, considering we don’t have any assets. It won’t be finalized until midsummer at the earliest, which isn’t super convenient but—”
“Stop.”
Theo doesn’t raise his voice. Never yells. But the way her eyes widen at the snap in that single syllable? He may as well have screamed. “Just listen ,” he says, softer. Begs. “I never said I’m taking the job. I meant it when I said that you are part of the equation. We don’t have to be married for that to be true.”
“Why?”
“You’re seriously asking me that?”
She nods. Digs in. “Yeah. Why now ?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Theodore. I can only be rejected so many times.”
“Rejected?”
“Prom,” she says, counting on her fingers, and Theo’s unsure what throws him more, that she’s still holding on to prom or the insinuation that maybe, possibly, they have felt the same way about each other since prom ? Evelyn continues her list. “Spring break…” She pauses. Swallows. Then holds out her third finger. Her ring finger. “Lori’s—”
“Evelyn.”
“You wanted to talk about us.”
“One, we were both wasted. Two, my mom had just died . I’m…” Theo rakes a hand through his curls. “Are you serious right now?” Evelyn shrugs. “I wanted to talk about it. The morning after. You acted like it didn’t happen, then got back with Hanna.”
“ Months later.”
“I know. I’m sorry! We were just… my mom…” Theo’s losing the plot. “I’m sorry. But you have to know I felt the same way. I feel the same way. Present tense.”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.”
“You need to be in New York.”
Frustration raises his blood pressure, his watch vibrating against his pulse. “Evelyn. Can you please stop acting like you know what I need? I’m telling you what I need. You. Any way I can have you. Every way I can have you. And that terrifies me! It always has, but I don’t want to waste any more time pretending that I just love you, that I’m not also hopelessly in love with you. I want to be with you. Whatever that means. However you want me.” He shifts onto his knees, tilts her chin up with the pad of his thumb so that her eyes meet his. “I don’t need New York. Or a job in curriculum development. I. Need. You.”
There it is.
Theo’s feelings.
Felt out loud… and met with silence.
Then, a single word. “No.”