Chapter 21
Theo
“As you can see, everything is very modern. Very sleek.” Cathy waves her hand in a sweeping arc through the kitchen. “All the appliances are brand-new, and the counters are only about a year old.”
“What do you think?” I ask Fable, trying to catch her eye but it doesn’t work.
“It’s . . . nice.” She looks like she’d rather be getting a root canal.
I don’t know what happened between dragging me onto her bed and when she woke up this morning, but something did. I spent all night burrowing myself as close to her as I could. Meanwhile, she was apparently dreaming up a new list of reasons to hate me.
I thought stopping to get her favorite chocolate chip scones from Wildwood Bakery would help, but it didn’t. She has been icy and distant all morning, hiding behind Mia and only faking a smile when Cathy looks her way.
My sister slides her fingertips across the slate-gray countertop. “Everything is beautiful, but I don’t know. Something feels off for you two.”
This place is all sharp angles and straight lines—none of the charm I’m looking for in a home. I want warm wood. Exposed beams. Character and quirks. I don’t want the fanciest house on the block, I want the most comfortable and welcoming.
The first house didn’t have that, either, and I’m realizing maybe I didn’t accurately explain to Cathy what I was looking for. Or perhaps I didn’t know until I was here and could definitively say this is not it.
Cathy clears her throat. “Let me show you the master suite. That may change your mind. The Jacuzzi tub is to die for.”
When she turns to steer us out of the kitchen, I block Fable’s path and bend to meet her gaze. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” It’s the kind of I’m fine that comes out of a woman who’s actively plotting your death.
Cathy’s voice echoes from the living room. “And isn’t this the perfect window to frame your Christmas tree?” Fortunately, Mia’s there to ooh and aah appropriately.
“It sure doesn’t seem like you’re fine,” I tell Fable. “You’re barely looking at me.”
She purses her lips. “I’m looking at you right now.”
“This”—I motion motion to all of her. Crossed arms, cocked hip, sharp scowl—“is mad-looking. Last night, you were—”
“Please.” Her eyes squeeze shut. “Do not bring up last night.”
My lips part as I try to piece the problem together, but I must be missing important information. Twelve hours ago, she was warm, relaxed, trying to kiss me. Now she’s distant and cold.
Mia calls our names, and Fable steals the opportunity to escape this conversation, leaving me standing in the kitchen.
While we’re touring the master suite, I can’t even focus on Cathy’s sales pitch because I’m too busy replaying the events of last night, trying to catch the moment that might’ve upset Fable.
I remember every detail. Her infectious excitement as she smeared hazelnut spread over crackers.
The adorable grin when she realized I’d seen Pride and Prejudice.
Her sleepy, half-lidded eyes when she begged me to stay with her.
The sound of her soft sigh once I curled behind her in bed.
I’m not sure where it went wrong.
By the time Cathy is done showing us around the master bathroom, I know this isn’t the house for me. I don’t need to see the rest of it. What I need is to know what’s going on with Fable.
So, as everyone turns to leave, I call Fable’s name from the bathroom. She reluctantly traipses in with her arms crossed.
“Please tell me what’s up.” I shake my head. “You’ve gone from begging me to stay with you, to not speaking to me. What did I do wrong?”
“I didn’t beg,” she insists, scowl still in place.
“You did. Yanked me into your bed, in fact.”
A head tilt. “You weren’t complaining.”
“I’m still not.” Luckily, Mia and Bree slept in my guest room last night, so I’m sure Layla had the time of her life cuddling in bed with them.
“I had no idea it was going to come with that bedtime serenade. I think it was a Fleetwood Mac song, but you were half asleep, so it was hard to tell.” Her cheeks turn scarlet, and something clicks into place.
“Wait, is this because you’re embarrassed?
Fabes, everyone does something silly when they’re drunk.
” That only seems to make her angrier. “Honestly, if you made it all the way to your twenty-ninth birthday without drunkenly embarrassing yourself, I’m impressed.
So don’t worry about it. You sang yourself right to sleep. ”
Her lips tighten. “That’s not it.”
“The British accent, then? We can work on that.”
“No, Theo,” she grits out.
“The mess in the kitchen? It only took me thirty seconds to sweep up the cracker crumbs. It’s fine.”
She covers her face. “Please stop. You’re making this so much worse.”
I grab the back of my neck, thinking. “If it’s about you and Mia dragging your dad out on the dance floor, I think he’s—”
“It’s the kiss, okay?” she whisper-yells, hands stretched wide in the air between us.
“The almost-kiss. Whatever it was.” I’m stunned speechless.
I can’t even find a response before she continues.
“It’s all the flirting and dancing and looking at me with that look you do sometimes .
. . my drunk brain was confused. Hence why I flung myself at you.
And I’m sorry, okay? Sorry I was so messy last night. Sorry I tried to kiss you.”
I shake my head. Words finally come back. “What? Why would you be sorry?”
Her feet shift. “The wires got crossed somewhere, but it’s fine. I need to brush it off and move on. Obviously, you’re allowed to not want to kiss me—”
“Not want to?” I drag a hand through my hair. “What do you mean?” And then it finally makes sense. “You don’t remember, do you?”
She goes still. “Remember what?”
My throat feels tight as we stare at each other.
Rain pelts the window over the Jacuzzi tub, and in the dreary, dim bathroom, my mind whirls me right back to that almost-kiss.
Her arms around my neck. A hum against my ear.
Hazel eyes in the moonlight. How could she not remember that?
It felt like the most destabilizing moment in my life—admitting to the want coursing through my veins.
She searches my face, a hint of uncertainty creeping in, but then Mia’s voice ricochets into the space between us.
“Fable? Theo?” She rounds the corner to find us in the middle of the bathroom. Her dark eyes narrow, sensing something’s off. “What’s going—”
“So, you love the bathroom, huh?” Cathy says, rejoining us. “I knew you’d be a fan of that tile work,” she carries on, giving her Realtor spiel at full volume.
I hold Fable’s gaze for a moment, willing her to remember last night. Remember what I said. Remember how it felt to be in that moment. Confirm it really existed and wasn’t a dream.
But she looks away. Mia watches me carefully as Fable hooks their arms together and steers her out of the bathroom.
“Oh, moving on then?” Cathy asks excitedly. “Let’s go see the dining room.”
I trail after them in a daze. We tour the dining room, where Cathy points out we could fit a table big enough for both our families, the laundry room, which is large enough to hold a party in, and the garage, where Mia teases that I can keep an extra bed for when Fable kicks me out of the house.
A sassy hmm comes from Fable. “Not a bad idea.”
I smirk, enjoying the way that seems to piss her off more. “As long as Layla and Knocks get to sleep with me.”
“Uh, no,” she snaps. “They’d rather sleep with me.”
“Maybe your memory is a little fuzzy,” I say pointedly, “but Knocks slept on top of my head last night. He loves me.”
Her eyes narrow. “When I woke up, he was cuddling me. My memory is fine, thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re not welcome.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Good one.”
Cathy gives an awkward laugh beside us. “Maybe we should move on to the—”
“We are moving on,” Fable interjects, crossing her arms as she follows Cathy back into the house. In the doorway, Fable pauses and turns to whisper, “We’re forgetting it happened. Not bringing it up anymore. Got it?”
“But I think we have very different interpretations of how it went. One of us was completely sober, sweetheart.”
Her pointer finger presses into the center of my chest. “Don’t you sweetheart me.”
Behind me, a snort bursts from Mia. “Are we still talking about Knocks, or . . . ?”
Tension soaks the garage. Fable’s glaring at me. I’m grinning at her. Everything is right with the universe, and I have the most intense urge to kiss that glower right off her pretty face.
“See. Stop looking at me like that,” Fable says sharply, pointing at my face before spinning on her heel to follow Cathy.
“Trouble in paradise?” Mia whispers, marching up the stairs behind me.
“Nah. Just a minor disagreement,” I reply with a smile. “We’ll sort it out.”
The bedrooms are all the same. Empty and cold. I’m still barely paying attention as I search for a place to pull Fable aside again and clear this up. I don’t want another moment to pass without her remembering what really happened.
Finally, when Cathy leaves the third bedroom and Mia trails after her, I seize my opportunity. I tug Fable into a tiny closet, leaving the door open. Gray light from the bedroom window filters in to reveal her expression. Arms crossed, shoulders back, chin tipped up—a mad little hellion.
She could take me down in a heartbeat. I’d let her.
“Do you remember what I said after you tried to kiss me?” I ask softly.
An annoyed grumble. “You don’t have to do this. I promise.”
“Do. You. Remember?” I clasp her cheeks, desperate at this point. I need her to know the truth.
Her eyes meet mine, searching. I watch her think through it, several emotions flickering over her features quickly.
I clear my throat. “I’d spent all night watching you laugh, dance, twirl around in that short, flirty dress. Bare legs. That freckle on display.” Her breath hitches. “You were trying to kill me, I think.”