Theo – Twenty-one
The morning air was fresh with that soft, citrusy tang of summer — not sharp, but just enough to make me feel like something was about to begin.
Nate had suggested a walk after breakfast, and I’d agreed before realising it was probably less about stretching our legs and more about stretching my nerves.
Rae insisted on coming too, which meant we’d stopped at least four times already to admire leaves, pebbles, and what she swore was a fairy circle made of daisies.
I didn’t mind. In fact, I was grateful. The grounding weight of her tiny hand swinging between us was oddly calming.
“She’s quieter today,” I said as we reached a shaded path lined with low stone walls and overgrown olive trees.
“She gets like that when she’s thinking,” Nate replied, glancing down at her. “You and her — both internal processors. It’s unnerving.”
I smirked. “Maybe she’s just enjoying the peace before the chaos of the date.”
Nate gave me a side-eye. “Speaking of which… You ready?”
Was I ?
I shoved my hands in my pockets and stared ahead. “I think so.”
“Doesn’t sound very convincing.”
“I’m trying not to freak out, okay?” I said, exhaling sharply. “It’s just… it’s Cece.”
He hummed like that explained everything, which, to be fair, it kind of did.
“Theodore Finch,” he said after a pause, “the man who can lead a team of forty through a nightmare budget pitch but falls to pieces over one woman.”
I huffed a laugh. “It’s not just one woman.”
“Oh no?” He raised an eyebrow.
“It’s her . It’s always been her.”
We slowed as Rae stopped to crouch by a trail of ants. Nate let go of her hand and gave her space, then looked back at me.
“I always feel like I give more in relationships,” I admitted quietly.
“Like I’m the one who remembers all the little things.
Who says the first I love you. Who over-thinks, over-plans.
Even with Natalie…” I trailed off, then shook my head.
“It never felt effortless. I was always managing something. Adjusting, holding my breath.”
“And with Cece?”
“It’s just… easy. Being around her is like exhaling after holding it in for years. She sees me, you know? Not the job title. Not the image. Just… me.”
Nate stayed quiet, giving me the space to untangle it out loud.
“Even the chance to be with her,” I went on, “makes me want to be better. Not out of pressure or guilt or needing to prove something — but because I want her to feel safe with me. To never question how I feel, or whether I’d choose her. I want to be the man who makes her sure.”
Nate blinked at me. “Damn. Have you fallen in love with her already?”
I didn’t answer at first. Rae ran up to us and handed me a daisy. I tucked it behind my ear without thinking. She giggled and darted ahead, skipping with all the freedom in the world.
“I think,” I said slowly, “a part of my heart has always been Cece’s. Even when I didn’t fully realise it. And seeing her again… it’s like I’ve just now noticed she’s been holding it the whole time.”
We walked for a bit in quiet, Rae darting from side to side like a bee collecting pollen.
“You know I loved Milly more than anything,” Nate said suddenly. His tone had shifted — lower, steadier, but full of something raw. “We didn’t always agree, and sometimes we said things we didn’t mean. But the one thing we got right was Rae.”
He nodded toward her, eyes soft.
“That little girl… she’s everything. She’s the best of both of us.” He paused, jaw working slightly. “And I think about it more than I’ll ever admit, but—I didn’t tell Milly enough. How special she was. What a good mum she was. I thought we had more time. You always think you’ve got more time.”
I swallowed, throat tight.
“And then one day, she was just gone. No warning. No final moment to fix things. No second chance to say what mattered. I carry that every day.”
We stopped by a bend in the path. Rae was sitting on a rock, swinging her legs and humming to herself.
Nate looked me square in the eye. “What I’m trying to say is—this is the girl you never stopped thinking about. You brought her up even when you didn’t mean to. She’s the name behind every almost. And now… the moment’s here. Maybe there’s a reason for that.”
I didn’t speak. My chest ached in the best and worst way.
“Don’t overthink it,” he added. “Don’t over-perform or over-perfect it. Just be you. Let her be her. You’re already friends—and that’s the most important part anyway.”
The breeze stirred the leaves. Rae looked up and smiled at both of us like she’d heard the whole thing and approved.
“You’ve got a good heart, Theo,” Nate said, voice gentler now. “It’s time you trusted it.”
I bent down and scooped Rae up, resting her against my chest as her arms looped loosely around my neck. She smelled like sun and grass and peach juice. I felt the daisy still tucked behind my ear and didn’t take it out.
“Thanks,” I said quietly, the words heavier than they sounded.
Nate smiled faintly. “She’s waiting for you to show up, not show off. Big difference.”
We kept walking, Rae humming some made-up tune into my shoulder, and me, trying to remember how it felt to just let good things happen without questioning if I deserved them .
XX
By the time I’ve showered, done a beard trim, and attempted to fix the cowlick in my hair that insists on rebellion, the nerves are back.
I catch my reflection in the mirror one last time before leaving — navy polo tucked neatly into clean white trousers, sleeves hugging my arms just enough.
It’s not flashy, but it’s me. Presentable. Intentional.
I’d never cared this much about getting ready before. But this wasn’t just anyone.
This was Celia.
“You’re going to be late,” Nate called through the flat.
“I’ve got time!”
“You said you were picking her up at seven. It’s ten to.”
I swore under my breath and grabbed my keys, heart in my throat.
The walk to her Airbnb took less than ten minutes, but it felt longer. Her building was a little boutique spot with vines creeping up the front and warm yellow light glowing in the windows. The sky was melting into a dusky blue, and the air smelled faintly of sea salt and jasmine.
I took a breath at the front door, smoothed my shirt, and stepped up to knock.
I heard the faint clicking of heels as they crossed to the door, and when it swung open, every word I thought I might say disappeared.
Cece stood framed in the doorway like something out of a dream.
That soft green dress clung to her in all the right places, the off-shoulder neckline revealing the delicate curve of her collarbone, her skin beginning to tan from the sun.
Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and her lips parted just slightly, like she might say something, but didn’t.
I think I forgot how to breathe.
She looked radiant. Effortless. Like a woman who could shatter a man’s entire sense of logic and not even know it.
“Hi,” she said softly, with the tiniest, knowing smile — like maybe she did know.
I swallowed. “Hi.”
For a second, I just stood there, looking at her, trying to find something clever or casual to say — but nothing I came up with felt even close to enough.
“You look…” I trailed off, then tried again. “Celia Hart, you are breathtaking.”
She didn’t look like anything, she simply was.
Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced down, the smile tugging at her lips now shyer than before. “Thank you,” she said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“I mean it.” I stepped back a little, giving her space to lock the door behind her. “I think I just blacked out for a second.”
She laughed, a soft, surprised sound that went straight to my chest. “Well, I’m glad you came back to us. Would’ve been awkward going on this date alone.”
“I’d follow you on it, even in a blackout,” I said, without thinking.
She glanced sideways at me, amused. “That’s intense. ”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck as we started walking down the street. “I think you make me a little intense.”
She didn’t respond immediately, but her fingers brushed lightly against mine as we walked. My heart stuttered in my chest. I didn’t take her hand yet — I wanted her to set the pace.
“You look really good too,” she said after a beat, almost as if it caught her off guard. “Like, annoyingly good.”
I smiled. “That’s what I was going for. Annoyingly good.”
Her laugh was softer this time, more settled. We reached the end of the street, where the road curved down toward the coastline. In the distance, the last rays of sunlight shimmered across the sea, casting everything in gold.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Somewhere with wine. Somewhere with music. And somewhere I can look at you for as long as I want without it being weird.”
Celia looked over at me then, her expression unreadable for a second. But her eyes, warm and steady, lingered on mine like a held breath.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” she asked quietly.
I nodded. “I’ve never been surer of anything.”
She didn’t say anything else, but she reached for my hand then, properly this time, and laced her fingers through mine.
And I swear to God, I could’ve died a happy man right there and then .
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, winding through the dusky streets of Nice.
The buildings were dipped in that early evening honey light — all faded apricot walls, weathered shutters, the soft hum of music and life drifting from open balconies.
It was the kind of evening that made you believe in fate.
We reached a quiet little street where a narrow wine bar hugged the corner — all exposed stone and string lights, with mismatched chairs clustered under vines. Inside, a jazz trio was setting up, and the murmur of French conversation blended with the scent of warm bread and aged oak.
“Is this okay?” I asked, nodding toward the open terrace.
Cece looked around, a flicker of surprise softening into something more tender. “It’s perfect.”
We took a table near the edge, where the breeze carried the scent of lavender from a nearby window box. I watched her as she sat, crossing her legs and tucking her hair behind one ear. She didn’t even realise she was doing it — didn’t realise how entirely she had me.
“I don’t think I’ve been on a proper date in years,” she said lightly as the waiter poured two glasses of rosé“I think the majority of my dates in recent years have been awkward networking dinners with my brother and potential clients or being dragged to office events.”
“How business-like of you.”
My eyes flicked to her wine glass that was cold to the touch, the condensation slipping down her fingers. I tracked the movement instinctively. Was it strange that I was envious of a droplet of water caressing her hand? She caught me watching and smirked as if she knew.
“What?” she asked, eyes dancing.
“Just… how unreal this feels,” I said honestly. “I think part of me thought I’d never see you again. And now we’re here, and you’re… well. You.”
Cece’s expression shifted slightly — not just flattered, but maybe a little raw. Like she wanted to believe it, too.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she murmured, tracing the rim of her glass. “About choosing me.”
I didn’t interrupt.
She glanced at me, her voice quieter now. “It’s hard to accept sometimes. That someone could look at all of me — the mess, the fear, the way I shut down when I get overwhelmed — and still want me anyway.”
“I don’t just want you anyway,” I said, leaning forward. “I want you because of all of it.”
Her eyes shone in the soft light. “You say things like that and it feels like my whole ribcage is going to cave in.”
I smiled, but I didn’t look away. “The last thing I want is your ribcage to cave in.”
She exhaled a soft, startled laugh, and for a moment, everything else — the clinking glasses, the background hum of music — faded.
We ordered small plates to share — olives, roasted peppers, Manchego, slices of toasted bread drizzled in olive oil.
Cece ate with casual elegance, her foot brushing mine under the table now and then.
We kept talking — about books we’d loved, things we’d seen, old stories that made us laugh.
Every now and then she’d say something and I’d find myself staring, wondering how I’d survived all this time without this version of her in my life.
The trio started playing, the first notes of a slow jazz standard curling into the air like smoke. Cece swayed slightly in her seat.
“You still dance?” I asked.
“Not well,” she said. “But I still love it.”
I stood and held out my hand. “Come on.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Here? There’s barely room.”
“We’ll make room.”
She hesitated — just for a second — and then took my hand.
We found a small patch of clear stone near the terrace’s edge. I slid one arm around her waist, the other resting lightly in her hand. She fit there so easily, it knocked something loose in my chest.
She looked up at me as we moved, slow and steady. “You’re not terrible at this.”
I chuckled. “High praise.”
The music swelled, and I drew her just a little closer.
“You really meant what you said, didn’t you?” she asked softly. “About me.”
“There’s never been anyone else who’s made me feel the way you do.”
She swallowed, something shifting in her eyes — like a curtain being pulled back.
“I used to replay that night we kissed,” she said. “All the time. I’d wonder what would’ve happened if I’d just… said something. If I’d let myself want what I actually wanted. ”
“What did you want?”
“You.” Her voice broke around it, quiet but certain.
The music slowed even more. She was so close now I could feel the warm rush of her breath. I didn’t kiss her — not yet. I wanted this moment to breathe.
“Then it’s a good thing,” I said, “that we’re here now.”
And she smiled — a real one, wide and open and entirely unguarded — and leaned her head against my shoulder.
I held her there as the last note of the song faded, and then I guided us both back to the table. As I did, I thought for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was waiting for something to go wrong.
I felt… chosen. And it was the nicest feeling in the entire world.