Chapter 11
Theo
“Are you going to give me the cold shoulder all night?”
My question goes unanswered as Fable glares at the window in Maddox’s front door.
I poke her shoulder and wince. “Ouch. So cold.”
Her lips twitch. Only a millimeter, but I’ll take it.
In theory, tonight should be a piece of cake. Maddox and his wife, Vivian, know this is a charade. So, really, Fable and I are practicing spending time together. It should be relaxed. Easy. A little chaotic (knowing the usual state of Maddox’s house), but fun.
If I can get Fable on board.
“Do you mind telling me why you’re ignoring me? You know, so I can write it in my journal later?” I lift an imaginary pen and pretend to write on my other palm. “Reason number 8,975 why Fable isn’t speaking to me . . .”
“I’m mentally preparing for the performance I’m about to take part in,” she says primly, but I can tell she’s fighting a grin. “Pretending I like you requires a lot of effort, but once that door opens, I’ll be on.”
Perfect. I ring the doorbell again. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.”
Footsteps echo on the other side of the door, and she lets out a long-suffering sigh, her lashes fluttering to her cheeks. Then her hand slides into mine.
For a moment, all I can do is stare down as she laces our fingers together, a bolt of electricity zinging through me. Her palm is warm and soft, and I’m not sure why she felt the need to hold my hand but fuck if I’m going to question it. She fits perfectly there.
When Maddox swings open the door, Fable transforms. Her eyes open brightly, a smile stretches her cheeks until little brackets appear at the corners of her mouth. It’s like she’s flipped on a light switch, and as I watch it happen, I feel myself frown. She doesn’t smile like that for me.
Damn Maddox. He’s been there for everything—my one true friend since we met freshman year of high school. I’d take a bullet for him, his wife, or his sons.
But watching Fable smile his way? Makes me want to kick him in the shins.
“Welcome,” he says, looking frazzled but happy.
Fable’s hand leaves mine as Maddox hugs her quickly, then waves us inside.
We follow a trail of yellow footprints on the tile into the kitchen, where Vivian is washing two-year-old Miles’s yellow-tinted feet in the sink.
Four-year-old Carter is running circles around the island, leaving more footprints as he goes, and their chocolate lab, Chewie, in lying on the floor, yellow staining her paws as well.
A puddle of what looks like paint is pooling near the back door, the stove is pulled away from the wall with a row of tools spread out on top, and animated dogs are singing on the television.
Pure chaos. I love it here.
Maddox scoops up Carter and tosses me a package of baby wipes. “Mind cleaning Chewie’s feet?” he asks before dunking Carter’s feet under the faucet.
Carter waves. “Hi, Uncle Theo.” Then he squints at Fable (who looks surprisingly unbothered by what we’ve walked into). “Who are you?”
“I’m Fable.” She side-eyes me as she hangs her jacket on a barstool. “Your uncle Theo’s”—a swallow—“girlfriend.”
Surprise flickers through me. Did I forget to tell her that Maddox and Vivian know the truth? Surely, I told her. Right?
“Welcome!” Vivian says, tossing her braids over her shoulder and out of the way. “Sorry for the mess. Miles thought it would be funny to dump an entire bottle of paint on the floor.” She smacks a kiss to his cheek. “Hilarious.”
“At least it wasn’t red.” I yank a baby wipe out of the package and squat beside Chewie to clean her paws, careful not to step in any paint. “Then it would like blood.” I use my best creepy voice and Carter giggles.
“Blood,” Miles repeats as Vivian sets him on the couch with a cup of snacks.
Maddox plops Carter next to his brother before grabbing a mop. While the boys watch a show, the four of us work together to erase all the evidence of yellow footprints and paw prints from the house.
When Maddox returns from taking the trash out, he washes his hands and eyes me across the counter. “In addition to all this,” he says, waving toward the boys, “the oven crapped out on us this afternoon and I can’t figure out how to fix it myself. So, how’s pizza sound?”
“Perfect,” I assure him.
“Pee-zah!” Miles screams.
As Maddox pulls out his phone, Carter hurdles over the back of the couch and runs to his dad. “Extra pepperonis!”
Vivian uses the dish towel to soak up a puddle on the counter, then leans against the surface. “I could use a glass of wine. Want one?”
Fable settles into a barstool. “Yes, please.”
While Vivian heads to their wine fridge, I glance down at Fable—at the perfectly torturous view of the way her sweater dips to her cleavage and that adorable freckle that lives right in the soft swell of skin.
The first time I noticed that freckle, we were seventeen, and she and Mia were getting ready for a trip to the river. Fable breezed in the kitchen door. Bright orange bikini top. Cut-off jean shorts. Sunglasses in her wild hair. And so much bare skin.
My heart forgot how to beat.
All I could see were her sensual curves. Strong thighs. Tiny orange straps. Freckles cascading over her collarbones and down her chest. Then my eyes landed on one freckle in particular, bigger than the rest, sitting low enough to be hidden from the world normally.
My attraction to Fable has always felt like a living, breathing thing inside me, but most of the time I can ignore it well enough. That day, however, it roared behind my rib cage. My subconscious said, Mine. That freckle is mine.
I have no right to it, obviously, but that hasn’t stopped me from looking for it every time I see her. I’m in for a long night with that freckle on display. A long night of wondering what it would feel like to press my lips there. How sweet her skin would taste on my tongue.
“You’re staring,” she whispers.
“Hard not to,” I admit.
Voice dipped low, she murmurs, “People in real relationships aren’t constantly staring at each other. You’re going a little overboard.”
I’m undeterred, still staring, following the cascade of pink as it flows over her cheeks and down her neck. I can’t help myself—I lean into her ear and whisper, “You’re blushing again.”
Her lips tighten. “That’s annoyance you’re seeing.”
“I don’t think so,” I tease.
Fiery hazel eyes meet mine. “I will murder you.” She pastes on a smile when Vivian walks back in, but out of view, she reaches over and pinches my side. Hard.
“They were in rare form tonight.” Maddox drops into the empty seat beside his wife and starts disassembling the magnetic block tower that Miles insisted we have on the table for dinner. “Carter was convinced I needed to kiss every stuffie good night before he could go to sleep.”
“And you did it, right?” I ask, running my hand over Chewie’s head in my lap.
“Hell yeah, I did,” Maddox confirms. “Anything for bedtime.”
“It could be genetic,” Vivian says, slouching in her chair and propping her bare feet on Maddox’s thighs. He abandons the blocks and rubs the arch of her foot. “When I was a kid, I had to tell every single one of my Beanie Babies good night. There were at least thirty. It was a long ritual.”
My lips curve up. “Fable and Mia were obsessed with Beanie Babies too.”
“We were,” Fable admits with a sigh. “Had quite the collection. I even adopted all my sisters’ once they were tired of them.”
“They wouldn’t let me play with them,” I add. I still remember the orange construction paper sign they’d tape to Mia’s door. A little stick figure me, with wavy this-boy-stinks lines coming off it.
Fable rolls her eyes. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of course I was. You were my friend first!”
That comment seems to surprise her. Maybe she meant that I was jealous of their Beanie Baby collection, but no. I was jealous every time she gravitated toward Mia and left me out. She was my first friend in a new town, and half the time, I lost her to my little sister.
I can feel Fable’s gaze as I steer us back in the right direction. “I would dress up in a badass ninja outfit and try to sneak in and steal them.”
“Did you have the one with the secret pockets?” Maddox asks.
“Yeah! I could fit like six Beanie Babies in there.” I mime sliding them into pockets at my sides. “I took my job very seriously. Drew out plans for my attacks and everything.”
Maddox snorts. “Irritating your siblings is a full-time job.”
“He’d hide them from us,” Fable says, appealing to Vivian now. “Mia never found her lobster.”
I whisper to Maddox behind my hand. “That one got put in the river.”
The women gasp. Fable turns to me with wide eyes. “You did not.”
I shrug. “It needed water.”
“It was a Beanie Baby!”
“It was a lobster!”
“The tag was still on!”
I roll my eyes. “I was eleven.”
Her eyes pinch. “Annoying little shit.”
“You’re not wrong. I did use my allowance to replace it though.”
Vivian lifts her glass in cheers. “We’re all thankful you grew out of that annoying-little-shit stage.”
Fable murmurs, “Did he though?” She dips her chin to hide her smile, but I catch it anyway.
“Do you still have Beanie Babies covering your bed?” I ask.
There’s a beat of silence. Her eyes flare with meaning, but I’m not sure why.
“Obviously you know they’re not covering my bed.
” She clears her throat. “Since we sleep together and everything. Since we’re in a relationship.
” I smother a laugh as she turns to Vivian and Maddox and very unconvincingly adds, “He sees my bed all the time. Like every day. No Beanie Babies.”
Huh. I’m starting to think I forgot to tell her they’re in on this. Maddox and Vivian exchange a confused look, and listen, I have two choices here.
One: Tell her they know. Two: Play along.
And obviously—being the annoying little shit that I am—option two sounds way more fun.