Chapter 22
BECCA
Theo stops directly in front of me. “Hi,” he says, a little breathless. He looks me up and down, then leans forward and brushes a kiss against my cheek, sending a cascade of goosebumps across my bare shoulders and down my arms. “You look incredible.”
“You too.” I lift my hand to his shoulder, brushing my fingers along the soft linen of his shirt. “Is this new?”
“Do you like it? The sales guy was pretty persuasive.”
“I do,” I say. “Very island appropriate.”
He holds out the flowers. “For you. Zinnias and something else. Freesia, I think? That’s the one that smells good.”
“They’re beautiful.”
He turns, lifting a hand to the small of my back and guiding me to the car.
I have half a mind to glance into the boutique and see if our mothers are watching, but I ignore the impulse. If they are, I don’t want to know. I’m already nervous enough. I don’t need their hopeful expressions making me feel even more pressure to get this right.
“You okay?” Theo asks before closing my car door.
I nod. “Just nervous.”
He grins. “Me too. You’d think we’ve never done this before.” He closes my door, then jogs around the car to his side.
“Never dated in general?” I ask once he’s inside, the air conditioning on full blast to fight the August heat. “Or never dated each other?”
“Based on my nerves, neither one,” he says. “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you’re here. That you agreed.”
Once we’re inside, I shift in my seat so I can more fully face him, watching as he eases the car away from the curb and pulls into traffic. He really does look so handsome—almost painfully so—and my heart flips over in my chest.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, suddenly curious.
“Sure. Anything,” he says.
“When did you decide you wanted to ask me out?”
His eyebrows lift. “You mean for tonight? Or just generally?”
“Both, I guess? Is it a different answer?”
Theo stops at the next light, then looks over and meets my gaze, holding it for a long moment before he says, “Yesterday’s decision to ask you out was pretty spur-of-the-moment.
I was trying hard to comply with your wishes, since you said you weren’t interested.
But generally…” His words trail off and he smiles, his expression chagrined.
“I only had to hear your voice again to know I wanted another chance.”
Heat spreads across my chest, extending out to my fingertips, and I smile for the rest of the drive.
We have dinner at a tiny seafood place on the edge of the island. Our table is right by an enormous window, giving us a perfect view of the sun as it drops dramatically into the gulf. The sky turns a vibrant orange, shifting the clouds dotting the horizon into hazy strips of pink and purple.
The food is spectacular, unpretentious but perfectly prepared, and the atmosphere is intimate, just private enough that we don’t have to struggle to hear each other over the din of the restaurant around us.
Conversation is easy during dinner. I tell Theo about spending the day with our mothers and the way we all cackled when the barista who served our lattes wouldn’t stop hitting on Kim.
“You might not need to worry about Hector Villanova,” I tell him, “but there’s bound to be someone eventually. Your mom’s a catch.”
He shows me the pictures Carter sent earlier this afternoon of him and Sarah with their nieces, Poppy and Olive, holding ice cream cones.
The girls are clearly laughing at Carter, who has a dab of ice cream on the tip of his nose.
There’s another of baby Fiona in Sarah’s arms, not so tiny now, her toothy grin stretching from ear to ear.
“Sarah’s beautiful,” I say. “I remember thinking that when I met her.”
Theo puts down his napkin. “I forgot that you met her.”
“We had a whole conversation,” I say. “Though I’m not sure I made the best impression. I was pretty emotional the night of your surgery. Rambly, a bit weepy, and basically incoherent.” I let out a little laugh. “I can’t imagine what they all thought.”
“That I was an idiot to ever let you go,” he says. “That’s what they thought.”
“Well, I’m glad we have that established,” I say, and Theo smiles.
His eyes drop to his hand, and he flexes his fingers a few times. “It feels wrong to feel grateful for an injury, but I’m not sure we’d be here without it.”
“Eventually, maybe,” I say. “Seeing as how our mothers are best friends now.”
“True. Especially considering their willingness to meddle.” His expression turns sheepish. “Not that I’m complaining.” He glances down at my empty plate. “Did you enjoy your meal?”
“Clearly. I mean, this place is no Reba’s. But it was still delicious.”
Last night after pickleball, the four of us went back to Reba’s for dinner.
It was fun to see Reba and Kim catch up, and the papaya paradise was just as delicious the second time.
But it’s hard to beat the atmosphere of the restaurant where we are now.
The dress, the music, the sunset over the water.
This is the most grown-up date I’ve been on in a while.
After dessert, I excuse myself for a quick bathroom break. While I’m there, I check my phone and find a series of texts from Mia.
Mia
Hey. I don’t want to spoil your fun. Hopefully by now you and Theo are making out all over the beach, but I also don’t want to NOT tell you and then have you be mad when you get home. So just FYI: Aaron and I didn’t work out. I’m totally fine, and we don’t need to talk about it.
I mean, we DO need to talk about it. But not yet! I’m okay for now, thoroughly stocked for a weekend of comfort eating and movie binging, and will give you a full debrief when you get home.
I hope you’re having an AMAZING time. Also I love your face. And I miss you.
Also if you really ARE making out all over the beach you’d better tell me
My heart hurts at the thought of Mia weathering a breakup on her own. Or … a sort of breakup? I don’t think she and Aaron ever made things official. Either way, I’m sad I’m not there to support her.
I type out a quick reply before I leave the bathroom.
Becca
Girl, I’m so sorry. Can’t wait to see you next week. I want to know every single thing about what happened.
As I head back to Theo, I can’t help but wonder what Mia will do now.
I doubt she’ll want to stay in Atlanta, and I don’t love that at all.
It’s a selfish thought—I want Mia to do whatever is best for Mia.
But in the back of my mind, I’ve been secretly hoping she might decide to stay.
Because that would make it so much easier for me to do the same thing.
My steps slow as I round the corner and cross the dining room, finally catching sight of the small table where Theo and I have been sitting.
Theo is on his feet now, and two women are standing in front of him, their smiles wide. A tall blonde in a tiny black dress reaches out and touches his forearm, laughing at something Theo says.
Hot jealousy flares in my chest, and I stop walking right in the middle of the room, heart pounding in my chest.
I watch as one of the women pulls out her phone and holds it up like she’s asking for a photo. Theo nods, positioning himself in between them as they lean in for a selfie.
I have no idea why I’m reacting so stupidly.
The women are clearly fans who just happened to recognize him, which isn’t a big deal.
He’s a professional athlete. There’s a possibility he’ll be recognized everywhere he goes.
That’s part of his reality. And if we start dating—it will be part of my reality too.
So why do I feel like my feet are stuck in concrete?
I want to be mature enough to believe Theo’s past doesn’t matter. I have a past too—my mother was right about that. What matters now is here—the two of us.
But somewhere deep inside my heart, despite the work I’ve done to convince myself otherwise, there is still a part of me that’s afraid our breakup was my fault. Theo let me go because he knew I wasn’t what he wanted—what he needed. I wasn’t enough.
“You ready to go?”
My eyes snap to Theo, who somehow managed to get all the way over here without me noticing.
“Yeah,” I say a little too quickly. “Absolutely.”
“Sorry about that back there,” he says, tilting his head toward the table. “Just a few fans who recognized me.”
“No problem,” I say, talking way too fast, my voice half an octave higher than it usually is.
Theo eyes me, clearly sensing there’s something wrong, but since I’m power-walking out of the restaurant like leaving is a new Olympic sport, he has no choice but to keep up.
“I was thinking we could go for a walk on the beach?” he says as soon as we’re outside. “There’s access at the edge of the parking lot.”
“Okay,” I say, promptly turning and heading toward the beach.
I stop when I reach the sand and tug off my shoes, hooking them over my fingers as I head toward the surf.
I have a sudden need to feel the water on my toes—or maybe I just need a second to breathe, to get away from Theo long enough to figure out why I’m feeling so utterly irrational.
I drop my shoes on the sand where I’m sure the tide won’t wash them away, then walk into the water, lifting my dress up to my thighs so it doesn’t get wet.
I stand there for several long moments, water lapping over my feet, before Theo appears beside me, barefoot, pants rolled up to his knees. Thankfully, we’re on a relatively quiet stretch of beach. A few couples walk a dozen yards away, but no one is close enough to hear us or even care.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, his tone gentle.
I shake my head no.
“Okay,” he says, zero judgment in his tone.
It’s probably that fact—that he doesn’t try to push me—that makes me spin to face him. “Actually, just kidding. I do want to talk about it. I just don’t know how.”
“Just blurt it out,” he says. “Don’t try to make the words perfect. Just say them.”
I nod and take a steadying breath. “When I saw those women at our table, I felt irrationally, insanely jealous.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets. “When I saw Rory outside the bar that night I picked you up, I wanted to punch him for the same reason.”
I smile at this—I wouldn’t mind seeing Theo punch Rory.
“I know they were just fans,” I say, the words already coming easier.
“My reaction was totally unjustified. But I think I have some weird feelings about the last eight years of your life. About the women and all the pictures and the rumors and why you seem to deflect whenever I ask you about your dating history.” The wind blows a strand of my hair across my face, and I swat it away.
“I want to not care. It shouldn’t matter—it truly doesn’t matter.
My brain knows that. But I have this knot right here in my chest…
” I lift a fist to my sternum, pressing it right between my breasts.
“And I don’t know how to make it go away. ”
“Becca,” Theo says softly, but I’m too keyed up, my many, many emotions rolling and turning and tangling with each other, creating such a jumbled mess, I’m not sure I can stop.
“Maybe some part of it is jealousy,” I continue. “Or maybe I’m just so freaking terrified that if I let myself fall for you, it might happen again. I might lose you just like I did last time, and I don’t think I could survive that kind of heartbreak a second time.”
“Becca,” he repeats, his tone a little more urgent, but I shake my head one more time.
“I want this, Theo. But I don’t know how to not be scared.”
The moon is bright over the water, and there’s light bleeding over from the parking lot behind us, but it’s still hard to see Theo’s face.
It makes me wish we were somewhere else, somewhere quiet, private, where I could see the blue of his eyes and read his emotions in the twitch of his eyebrows or the clench of his jaw.
Theo must be thinking something similar because he doesn’t say anything. He just reaches out and takes my hand and tugs me back up the beach to where our shoes are waiting.
Wordlessly, Theo puts his back on, but my feet are too sandy, so I remain barefoot, carrying my shoes all the way to the edge of the parking lot.
The gravel parking lot, so I guess I am putting my shoes back on.
I drop one shoe and unbuckle the strap on the other, but then Theo steps closer, scooping the discarded shoe off the ground and handing it back to me.
“Here,” he says, then he lifts me and both shoes into his arms and carries me across the parking lot.
The car unlocks as soon as we approach—it’s fancy like that—and he manages to shift my weight just enough to open the passenger side door.
He sets me onto the seat, then takes my face into his hands, his thumb brushing lightly across my bottom lip.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” he says gently. “Just not here.”
I nod and spin my legs into the car, letting Theo close the door.
There’s something sexy about this take-charge version of him. I’ve never been much of the damsel-in-distress type, but even I have to admit there are worse things than having a man like Theo carry you across a parking lot.
As soon as he’s in the car, he reaches over and grabs my hand, entwining his fingers with mine and pressing it tightly against the top of his thigh.
There’s a certainty to his actions, a marked sternness that feels …
like he’s claiming me. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, even for a moment, I might slip away, and he’s not going to let that happen.
The longer we drive, the more the tension between us ratchets up, up, up.
I can’t take my eyes off Theo. The line of his jaw, the determined look on his face.
I have no idea what’s happening or what he wants to tell me, but by the time we pull into the driveway of the beach house, I’m ready to climb across the center console, park myself in his lap, and kiss him senseless.
As soon as he cuts the engine, he looks down at our still-clasped hands, then lifts them to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the side of my thumb.
“Don’t move,” he whispers, then he gets out and jogs around to my side of the car. He opens my door, and I take his hand, letting him help me out onto the smooth concrete of the drive. His hands land on my waist and slide down to the curve of my hips.
“You’re being very serious, Theo,” I say, and he offers me a small smile.
“Because I have something very serious to say. Can we talk in the pool? I think the heat is finally getting to me.”
“Okay,” I say.
He nods once, then he turns, grabs my hand, and leads us into the house.