Chapter 3
Recalibrating in Silence
Geoff
Jasper and I are perched on the bar stools by the counter, the ones that have somehow become reserved for us only. We’re technically investors, not loiterers, and Jasper enjoys reminding the staff whenever he’s in a mood.
From here, we can watch Theo work: lining up cups, juggling orders, and calling things out to his staff in what he insists is decent German but sounds more like a confused Arnold Schwarzenegger doing community theatre.
He displays typical middle child commitment: full of confidence and dubious pronunciation.
The Kaiser’s Mug smells incredible. Butter, sugar, roasted beans. Theo has built himself something solid here. Something that works. Given where he started, that still feels faintly miraculous.
Theo slides two Viennese Melange towards us without asking. He never asks. He knows.
“Careful,” he says to Jasper. “That’s hot.”
“Unlike your accent,” Jasper replies, immediately stealing a biscuit from the jar.
Theo swats Jasper’s hand a second too late. “Pay for that.”
“Put it on the business,” Jasper says easily. “I’m starving already, but I have to keep my appetite. Miranda’s cooking.”
Theo arches a brow. “Lasagne?”
“She’s perfecting it,” Jasper says. “In short, I’ve been banned from the kitchen and reassigned to watching football with SJ.”
I glance at him. “The kid supports Arsenal.”
“Yes,” Jasper says. “Which means dinner comes with tactical debates and emotional resilience training.”
Theo grins. “He still talks football with you, though.”
“That’s because I take him seriously,” Jasper says. “I don’t laugh when he says things like ‘this is our year’.”
I snort. “I respect the optimism. I just prefer sports where people admit it’s going to hurt.”
Theo looks at me. “Rugby does feel more honest.”
“Exactly,” I say. “No illusions. Just mud and disappointment.”
Theo shakes his head, amused. “And Miranda puts up with your and SJ’s football discussions over dinner?”
Jasper’s expression softens, just a touch. “She does. Claims it builds character.”
“For who?” Theo asks.
“All of us,” Jasper says, without hesitation.
Theo wipes his hands on a cloth and turns back to the machine, the conversation drifting the way it always does once it’s done something useful. Jasper checks his phone, frowns at a message, then relaxes again, like whatever it was can wait until later.
It probably can. That’s his life now. Things slot in. They wait for him. They don’t demand centre stage.
I finish my Melange more slowly than I need to, partly because it’s good and partly because I don’t feel any urgency to be anywhere else.
That’s the part I still haven’t got used to.
No calendars breathing down my neck. No flights to catch.
No clients emailing at midnight because they’ve changed their mind about a shade of beige.
Theo glances over at me while tamping coffee. “You alright, though?”
It’s not a loaded question. It’s not even suspicious. It’s just there, offered and retractable at the same time.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just… recalibrating.”
He nods like that makes perfect sense because, for him, it does. He’s been recalibrating since he had a burn out.
Jasper slides off his stool and stretches.
“I’ve got to head off. Miranda’s got a parent thing at school and I promised I’d walk the small Arsenal fan home before he decides I’m ruining his life.
” He nods a goodbye and heads out with the happy little smile he’s had on his face ever since Miranda came back to him.
Theo tops up the grinder, then glances towards the door Jasper’s just gone through. “He’s good with SJ.”
“He is,” I say. “But he’s always been good with Lucy.”
Theo huffs a quiet laugh. “True, and whoever can manage my little Ladybug can handle any child.” He lines up cups again, movements automatic now. “Lucy’s nearly six.”
I blink. “Already?”
“Couple of weeks,” he says. “She’s counting down like it’s Christmas. Keeps asking what age six does.”
“And what’s her verdict?”
“That she’ll be allowed to stay up late and make her own decisions,” he says dryly. “So we’re negotiating expectations early.”
I grin. “Wise.”
Theo hesitates, then adds, casual but not careless, “Ivy’s taking her shoe shopping at the moment. Who knew birthday shoes are a thing?”
“They absolutely are,” I say. “I assume sparkly?”
“Non-negotiable,” he replies. “Lucy’s already decided Ivy has excellent taste.”
That lands. Not because he says it means something, but because he doesn’t need to.
“She’s good with her,” Theo goes on. “Doesn’t try to be anything. Just… to be there.”
I nod. “That’s the trick.”
He shrugs, but there’s a quiet satisfaction under it. “Didn’t think I’d get this. Not like this.”
“You look settled,” I say.
He snorts. “Don’t say that too loudly. Might jinx it.”
I watch him for a moment as he reaches for the cloth again, wiping down a counter that doesn’t need it. I remember the version of Theo who swore he wasn’t cut out for this. The one who chased intensity because it felt safer than stability. Who mistook noise for certainty.
I remember Ivy arriving gradually. Not with fireworks, but with continuity. Turning up. Staying. Filling the gaps without announcing she was doing it.
It suits him, this version. Grounded. Less restless. Like he’s stopped waiting for something else to start.
Theo clears his throat and looks back at me, catching me mid-thought. “What’s that look about?”
“Just… noticing.”
He smirks. “Careful. That’s how it gets you.”
And, just like that, the moment passes, the café hum filling the space again as the conversation moves on.
Theo rests his forearms on the counter and tilts his head at me. “So,” he says. “Your turn.”
“My turn for what?”
He smiles faintly. “Dating. Finding the one.”
I huff a laugh. “Who says I’m looking for the one?”
“You’ve gone very non-specific,” he says. “That’s usually your tell.”
I look down at my Melange, and swirl what’s left of it. “It’s fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is,” I say. “It’s just not a satisfying one.”
Theo considers that. “Anyone you’re interested in?”
“Sometimes,” I say carefully. “Sometimes it gets as far as a second drink.”
“And then?”
“And then it doesn’t,” I say. “Which is apparently a theme.”
He doesn’t react straight away. He just gives me a small nod, like he’s filing it away rather than poking at it.
“You happy with that?” he asks.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “I’m not miserable. I’m just… recalibrating.”
He chuckles at that. “You and that word.”
“It’s having a moment.”
Before he can respond, the door opens and the entire atmosphere shifts.
“DADDY!”
Theo straightens instinctively as Lucy barrels in, one hand gripping Ivy’s, the other waving wildly in the air.
She skids to a stop in front of me, practically vibrating. “I got my birthday shoes.”
I smile immediately. “Did you.”
“They’re sparkly,” she says, lowering her voice like this is classified information. Then she turns sharply to Ivy. “Can I have them now?”
Ivy lifts the shoebox slightly out of reach. “What do we say?”
Lucy closes her eyes. Breathes. “Please can I have my birthday shoes so I can show Uncle Geoff?”
Theo nods. “Excellent manners, Ladybug.”
Ivy opens the box and Lucy leans in, gasping like she’s seeing them for the first time.
“Look,” Lucy says urgently.
I crouch a little. “Wow.”
“They’re very sparkly,” she tells me.
“They are,” I agree. “Top-level sparkly.” She gently touches the pink and white trainers like they would vanish if she handled them too roughly.
Lucy turns to Theo, triumphant. “Daddy. Uncle Geoff likes them.”
Theo exhales. “That’s a relief.”
“They light up,” Lucy adds. “But I’m not allowed to stamp in here.”
Theo points at the floor. “Correct.”
Lucy nods, satisfied, then looks back at me. “I’m nearly six.”
“That explains the confidence,” I say.
“And six-year-olds don’t have bedtimes,” she adds.
Theo snorts. “Still under discussion.”
Lucy thinks about this very seriously, then reaches for my hand anyway.
“Uncle Geoff,” she says, tugging gently. “Come look at the cakes.”
Theo groans. “We are not choosing cake right now.”
Lucy ignores him completely. She’s already walking, confident I’ll follow.
“Is this for your birthday?” I ask, humouring her.
She nods enthusiastically. “Yes. You’re coming.”
It’s not a question.
“Am I,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “Everyone is.”
I glance at Theo. He gives me a look that says help me.
Lucy points at a chocolate monstrosity covered in sprinkles. “This one is very pretty.”
“It certainly is,” I agree. “Very committed to the occasion.”
She turns back to me suddenly. “Can you come to my party?”
“Of course I can, Lu,” I say.
She beams, then immediately narrows her eyes, businesslike again. “And will you get me a pony?”
Theo chokes. Ivy snorts.
“A pony,” I repeat.
“Yes,” Lucy says patiently. “A small one. For my birthday.”
Theo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ladybug—”
“It doesn’t have to live inside,” Lucy adds, magnanimous.
I crouch slightly to her level. “That’s very thoughtful. But ponies are… quite a big present.”
She considers this. “Okay.”
Theo relaxes.
“Maybe a unicorn,” she says.
Theo groans again.
I grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Lucy nods, satisfied, and releases my hand like the matter is settled.
I straighten up, meeting Theo’s gaze. “You’ve got time to prepare.”
He grimaces, then follows Lucy to the cake vitrine where she’s already pressing her nose to the glass.
What follows is a very serious discussion about why cake is not a sensible afternoon snack choice, why her birthday is still a few weeks away, and why icing counts as excitement rather than nutrition.
Lucy listens with the patience of someone humouring a much less informed adult.
I retreat to the bar and hop back onto my stool. The café buzzes on around us, orders being called, cups clinking, Theo still negotiating with Lu if having cake now is a good idea.
Ivy slides onto the stool beside me like she’s always been there. She gives me a sideways look and pats my arm like she is trying to soothe me.
“You okay?” she asks, low enough that only I can hear.
I nod automatically, then hesitate. She waits because she knows me well enough by now to sense there is more that I am not saying. We Corbins are an open book when it comes to our emotions usually, even if we like to think we are good in hiding them.
“I was wondering,” I say, keeping my eyes on the counter. “That therapist you used to see. The one who helped you through… everything.”
Her mouth twitches. “Pee-Pee.”
I risk a glance. She’s grinning.
“That’s not her name,” I say.
“Absolutely is behind her back,” Ivy replies. “Phyllis Philpott. Pee-Pee saved my sanity and possibly my criminal record.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Do you still have her details?”
She studies me long and hard. “Yes, of course. I’m still seeing her. Are you—”
“I don’t need you to ask questions… please,” I add quickly. “And I don’t want my brothers knowing. Not yet.”
Ivy snorts. “You do realise I’m genetically incapable of gossip, right?”
I lift an eyebrow.
“Okay,” she says. “I can gossip. I just choose not to when it matters.” She leans in a fraction. “I won’t say a word. But I am going to say this.”
I brace myself.
“It’s not weakness,” she says. “It’s maintenance. Like servicing a car. Or yelling at the universe in a safe, carpeted room.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Good,” she says. “Because men have a terrible habit of powering through until something actually breaks.”
I glance towards Theo, now crouched to Lucy’s level, negotiating cake logistics with a seriousness usually reserved for international treaties.
“I’m not broken,” I say quietly.
“I didn’t say you were,” Ivy replies. “I said Pee-Pee is very good at keeping things from getting worse.”
She pulls her phone out and taps a note open, sliding it across the counter to me without ceremony.
“There,” she says. "Just make sure you call her."
“Thank you,” I say as I copy the number into my phone.
She bumps my shoulder lightly. “Any time. And Geoff?”
“Yeah.”
She smiles, soft but certain. “You’re allowed to ask for help. Even when you don’t have the words yet.”
Then she hops off the stool and heads towards Theo and Lucy, ready to put an end to the negotiations… probably by siding with Lucy.
I stare at the number on my phone for a moment longer than necessary.
Then I save it.
Maybe what I need to heal my dick is some quality Pee-Pee time.