Thirty-Five
Isla
I ’m in love with Theo Thorne.
I’ve loved some version of him—of us —since I was nineteen, but what I feel for this man now goes far beyond nostalgia. It’s stronger than a mere memory. Deeper than any teenage dream.
This love is raw, real, and earned. Rooted in simplicity and anchored in the day-to-day rituals that have quietly become our life.
We’ve put sincere effort into finding our rhythm over the past six weeks.
Monday mornings, Theo drives us to the city, his fingers laced with mine across the console as the rising sun paints the windshield gold.
We stay at his apartment while he works on reviving his company post–VorVex Tech disaster.
I tackle freelance design work for an NXT division he doesn’t oversee—a boundary we established early and continue to protect fiercely.
Wednesdays find me on the bus back to Sugarpine Springs, his cologne still clinging to my clothes as I throw myself into portfolio-building projects. He stays behind, buried in meetings and deadlines, but never misses a call before bed.
Thursday nights, he returns to me, exhaustion melting from his face the second my arms slip around him. Fridays and Saturdays, we work side-by-side in my cramped apartment, our laptops battling for control of a dining table too small to contain a pair of creatives with poor cord management skills.
Sundays are sacred. No deadlines. No alarms. Just us. And sometimes, the loud, loving chaos of his family.
It’s not perfect, but it works. Because we work.
I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
I love him.
I. Love. Him.
And I want him to know.
Not tomorrow. Not next week.
Tonight .
I take the hottest shower my pipes will allow. Mostly to thaw my toes. Partly to figure out the best way to speak my truth.
The longer I stand under the spray, the clearer everything becomes.
There is no perfect way to pledge love.
Maybe it isn’t meant to be contained in a single word. Maybe it lives in the many selfless, fearless deeds that come before the declaration.
Trust. Leap. Surrender.
And perhaps it deepens the simple, beautiful acts that come after .
Laugh. Cherish. Grow.
That’s the kind of love I hold for Theo.
Not just the noun. All of its verbs—and everything they set in motion—too.
I pad out of the bathroom barefaced and damp-haired, rocking a Cotton & Chaos Valentine’s Day tee and a pair of slouchy sweats that have survived one too many wash cycles.
The second I round the corner into the living room, the heat in Theo’s gaze melts over me, its intensity making me feel like I’m decked out in diamonds and designer labels.
“Subtle.” He scans the conversation hearts across my chest.
Be Mine. Get Naked.
I shrug. “Thought I’d go for understated tonight.”
“That kind of understated gets you undressed,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a familiar register that makes my knees forget their primary function.
He’s made himself at home on the couch. Considering the thing is a glorified loveseat, two warped planks away from structural failure, the sight of a man that large on a piece of furniture so tiny should look ridiculous.
Instead, it’s picture-perfect. He belongs here. With me.
His thumb brushes against his full bottom lip, and for one wild second, I can’t decide if I’m envious of his mouth or his finger.
Cool it on the lust. Focus on the love.
With Theo, the two blur until they’re one and the same. His heart and hands live in every cell of me. He’s part of my chemistry. Etched into my DNA.
I slide in next to him, claiming my usual spot on his left side.
When has this position become our thing?
I think it traces all the way back to our early days together. He’s a lefty. I’m not. At some point, our dominant sides just started gravitating toward each other. He would lean in, and I’d drift closer. Efficiency with a side of intimacy.
The movie I mentioned in passing last week is queued up on his laptop, and he’s laid out our dinner. The weathered coffee table is styled like we’re about to shoot a commercial for Spoon & Slice instead of eat takeout. Food stylists would be proud.
“Today was perfect,” I say, fingers drifting to the key at my throat. “Thank you for my presents.”
He smiles down at me. “You earned every one of those yourself. I simply held up the mirror.”
“Still. It means a lot.” I press my lips together.
“Especially since I’ve been struggling lately with the business side of my business.
The creative piece has never been a problem, but I’d like your input on some next steps for growth.
I want to figure out how to keep the hometown discounts while making more than just emotional profit. ”
He nods. “Let’s carve out time tomorrow to go over your rates,” he says. “I bet all they need is a quick tweak. And you could benefit from a thorough, in-depth reminder of just how much you’re worth. Pun definitely intended.”
“Theo!” I arch my eyebrows. “Are you turning financial advice into foreplay?”
“Always.”
“Aside from the growing pains…” I pause, rolling the pendant between my fingers. “I’m working with people I believe in on projects I care about. It’s small, it’s scrappy, and it’s mostly held together by optimism and caffeine—but it’s mine . And that matters. I’m happy. Really, truly happy.”
“I’m happy to see you so happy.” He bumps his shoulder gently into mine. “Witnessing you build this thing—pixel by pixel, pitch by pitch—is inspiring. Watching you at your most creative is easily one of the best parts of my week. You’re shining, Sunshine.”
Is it normal to simultaneously want to sob and straddle someone?
“You can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to survive the sweetness. I’m about to melt into this couch and become one with the cushions.”
A spark ignites his eyes. “I’ve got a messier idea. Why don’t you crawl onto my lap and become one with me?”
My entire body tilts a few degrees toward the invitation before I catch myself. “No— wait .” Holding out a hand between us, I shake my head. “I’m on a mission tonight. You took the lead this afternoon. It’s only fair our evening goes down on my terms.”
“Well, if that’s where the night is headed…” His attention drops to my mouth. “I gladly surrender to your mercy.”
I groan and spring to my feet. “You’re impossible. Come on—let’s go get your gifts.”
Theo raises a brow. “Where are we going?”
“Bedroom. Hurry before I change my mind.”
“Bossy Isla. Adorable.” He leans back, arms draped over the cushions, legs spreading in invitation. “But there’s no need for a bed, Sunshine. Plenty of room to kneel right here.”
The playful gleam in his eyes tells me he’s not actually expecting a blow job.
So why is gravity dragging me straight to the floor?
“Up.” I motion, trying to stick to the plan.
“ Down ,” Theo counters with a teasing growl.
I sway on my feet. Tempted is putting it mildly.
The power I get from giving him pleasure is addictive. He makes caring feel like conquering—and I get off on every second of it .
Before I can act on the urge, he springs to his feet, grabs me by the waist, and throws me over his shoulder.
I shriek his name, kicking and laughing as he marches us toward the bedroom. “What are you doing?!”
“Following orders. Something you apparently know nothing about.” He punctuates his point with a swat to my butt.
Yelping, I twist in his hold. “Spank me again and your ass will lose present privileges.”
Theo pushes the bedroom door open with his shoulder and stops cold.
“ Oh .” He sounds startled. “There are actual presents.”
From my upside-down vantage point, I catch a glimpse of the three boxes I stacked earlier at the foot of the bed. They’re arranged like a cardboard layer cake, with the smallest on top and the largest on the bottom.
“Of course,” I say smugly. “What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing.” He hikes me higher. “As in—full nudity. Maybe a bow.”
It’s my turn to smack him. “Put me down, you beast.”
He obeys, setting me on my feet with a kiss to the top of my head.
“You didn’t have to get me anything, Isla.” His voice loses all traces of humor as his expression turns serious. A subtle, vulnerable warmth emanates from him—the kind that makes my chest tighten and my hands twitch with the urge to wrap him in a protective embrace.
I walk to the edge of the bed, grabbing the box at the top of the pile.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, handing it over. “Just figured it was time.”
Theo lifts the lid, eyes narrowing on the key glinting against red tissue paper .
He stares at it, thumb tracing the jagged grooves. His brow creases and his jaw moves like he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out.
I rush to downplay the gesture. “It’s no town key.”
“No,” he says, his eyes flicking between me and the object. “It’s the key to your place.”
“I thought—well, since you spend so much time here…” Sounding casual with a pulse on overdrive is impossible.
“You’re here a lot, right? I mean…” I clear my throat as the ramble kicks in.
“Your toothbrush has taken up permanent residence next to mine, you’ve turned my drawers into your own special fabric filing system, and you’ve rearranged the kitchen cupboards using a complicated aesthetic formula I can’t crack and will gladly leave in your capable hands.
” I shift on my feet. “It’s just… practical , you know?
And Evangeline gave me a key to your childhood home years ago, so it’s only fair.
I want you to feel like you belong and—”
“I don’t need a key to know I belong with you.” While his tone stays light, the look he gives me is the exact opposite. “Still…thank you. For letting me in.” The weight of the statement makes it obvious he’s not talking about literal doors.
“You let yourself in all the time.” A laugh cuts through a rushed whoosh of air leaving my lungs. “This just makes it legal.”
“Legal is good.” He tucks the key into his pocket, then reaches for me, warm hands cupping my face.
The kiss that follows is a paradox of falling and being caught.
I steady myself with the strength of his biceps and lean into it, letting him feel everything I haven’t said out loud yet.
When we break apart, he smiles down at me. “Isla?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“You already said that,” I remind him .
“Did I tell you I loved it?”
I shake my head.
His lips press to the hollow of my throat, right next to where my pendant rests.
“I love that, once again, both of our gifts were on the same wavelength.”
“Let’s see if we can keep the serendipity going,” I offer.
My fingers tremble when I reach for the second box.
The middle one. But actually?
The Big One.
Stalling, I don’t hand it to him right away. Instead, I turn the container over in my hands, listening to the shifting contents, and try to breathe through the sudden tightness forming under my ribs.
I sit down on the edge of the comforter.
Then immediately stand.
Stride two steps.
Stop.
Turn.
Walk back.
Theo watches my spiral with amused patience. He’s holding strong to the quiet confidence he wears whenever he knows I’m working something out. He never pushes—though I could probably benefit from a little shove right now.
I pivot and face him. “Sit. Please.”
He obeys without a word, immediately cluing in that we’re no longer in game territory.
As I walk over, he parts his knees wider for me, and I step between them. Framed by the strength of his body, I feel safe. Ready .
“Here.” I hold out the box. Then, before I can change my mind, I lift the lid. “There. ”
He shifts forward, peering inside. “Is this…” He reaches in and picks up a short, tangled piece of yarn. “Wool?”
“And ribbon. Twine, too. Some embroidery floss, I think.”
He lifts another frayed strip of fabric and turns it between his fingers. “I know you like it when I tie you up, but this won’t do, Sunshine.”
“Remind me to tell you about our delayed rope order.” A short laugh slips out, catching in my throat as I remember what I’m doing right now. “But this isn’t about that .” I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale. “I wanted…”
“ Strings ?” Theo’s hands still mid-motion. His head snaps up, gaze locking on mine. “You’re giving me strings?”
My throat tightens. “I used to be terrified of strings. Of what they meant. Of the kind of trap they posed. Promises. Permanence. Perfection. And eventually… pain .
“Being with you made me realize what I’d be giving up just to avoid getting hurt.
So…” I swallow thickly. “I’m saying yes to the strings.
I want them. All of them. I want to be tethered to you by every single string.
” My voice splinters. “Because…” Bending forward, I press my forehead against his, breathing him in. “I love you.”
So very much.