20. Theo
Theo
Iwork until late in an attempt to take my mind off the moment I shared with Eleanor in the supply closet, but it’s pointless. I can’t shake the feel of her silky skin under my hands, the way her mouth opened so readily for me, hot, wet, eager.
We were almost caught by my daughter, of all people.
I shove the front door to my cottage closed, sliding off my jacket, removing my vest, and rolling back my sleeves.
I want to touch you.
Eleanor’s heated words ring through my head, but I push them away, pouring a large glass of whiskey and sinking into the leather sofa in my living room without turning on a lamp. The darkness hides my shame as I hold the glass in my hand, not taking a sip.
This is on me. I’m the one who kissed her in the parking lot, who followed her into that supply closet. I made the first move, and on school property, for Christ’s sake. If an employee of mine behaved this way, I’d dismiss them instantly.
I should be better than this.
But, God, I’m only human.
I keep thinking about the way she defended me so fiercely when I told her about last year’s fundraiser. Danny and Juliana have told me to give myself a break, but not like that. Not like it hurt them to hear me blame myself. Not like they knew, deep in their bones, that it wasn’t my fault.
The problem is, I want to believe her, to believe I could take a step back, loosen my grip just a little. To find a way to be happy.
To fall for someone as bright and sweet and lovely as Eleanor.
And that’s a very dangerous thing to want.
I swirl my whiskey, grinding my jaw in the dark. I crossed a line by kissing her. Twice. That’s my fault. She deserves better than that. Better than me. That’s the true bottom line here, isn’t it?
The realization hits me like a slap to the face.
It’s not the school I’m worried about hurting so much, it’s her.
She’s young, with her whole career ahead of her.
I know what happens to women who sleep with the boss.
It’s never good. I can’t take her reputation, her opportunities, her future away from her.
I can’t ask her to give that up for a bitter, jaded man twenty years her senior.
She deserves someone as hopeful and unguarded as her.
Not someone who lies awake at night, replaying his every mistake.
And, hell, the way I pushed her up against the wall in that supply closet, kissing her with no patience, no finesse… Shame washes through me at the memory.
I don’t deserve her loveliness.
A thump on the door breaks me from my spiraling thoughts, and I set my untouched whiskey aside, flicking on a lamp before answering it. I’m surprised to find my daughter on the doorstep, arms folded, foot tapping impatiently.
“Hey, Bug.” I muster a smile. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re an idiot, Dad,” she says, storming past me into the house. I stare after her, bewildered.
“Good evening to you too.” Sighing wearily, I close the front door, bracing for whatever is about to happen.
“She’s too good for you, you know that?”
I freeze. “Who?”
My daughter lifts her gaze skyward. “Nora.”
“Juliana,” I warn.
“I know, Dad.”
My blood runs cold. Did Eleanor tell her?
No. I dismiss the thought instantly. She’s too careful, too respectful. She’d never betray either of us like that.
I blink as I realize I trust her implicitly. It’s been a long time since I felt that toward someone new.
Juliana watches my thoughts play out on my face, confirming, “She didn’t tell me. I figured it out.”
I rub my jaw. I could tell her I don’t know what she’s talking about, but how well does that ever work? Besides, I don’t want to lie to my daughter. It’s always been me and her against the world, and I swore to be honest with her.
“How?” I ask at last.
“Well, for one, she was super weird when she came out of the supply closet this evening,” Juliana says, giving me a pointed look.
I cringe, face heating as I inspect the floor. How did I end up in this position, getting busted by my daughter? It’s supposed to be the other way around.
“And she hasn’t been her usual self these past couple weeks,” Juliana continues. “At the start of the semester she was so bubbly and enthusiastic about everything, especially the fundraiser, but lately she’s been kind of down.” She levels her gaze at me. “And you’ve been worse than usual.”
I release a weighted sigh, loosening my tie and slipping it over my head, tossing it aside. “It’s complicated.”
My daughter holds up her hand. “That’s an excuse, and you know it.”
“Well… I’m her boss, Jules. There are certain rules.”
“Again, with the rules.” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Fuck the rules.”
I frown, wondering what happened to my sweet little girl. Juliana has been different ever since arriving back at Wetherly. More distant, more defiant, and I’m not sure I like it.
“You know it’s not that straightforward.” But even as I say it, I hear the hollowness in the words.
“Dad…” She steps forward, putting her hand on my arm, gaze sincere as her voice softens. “I know you’ve felt the need to hold everything together since Mom died. You got used to managing everything yourself, and now you don’t know how to stop.”
I shake my head, glancing away. I know she means well, but it’s not that simple. She can’t understand, not really.
“It’s like you’re afraid to let go,” Juliana adds. “Like you’re so scared of what will happen if you don’t stay in control of everything, twenty-four-seven. But you can’t live your life like that.”
A lump forms in my throat at her words. Is she right? Am I so afraid of losing control that I’m slowly losing myself? The thought unsettles me more than I want to admit.
“I know you think you have to be perfect—for the school, for me, but you’re human, Dad. You’re allowed to want something just for yourself, even if it’s complicated. Even if it’s not what people expect.”
I swallow hard. Wanting things is dangerous. Especially things I’m not supposed to take.
“You’re allowed to be happy.”
Emotion coils tight in my chest. Her words echo Eleanor’s: Give yourself a break. Let yourself have a single moment to relax. To be happy.
Could I really do that? There’s the tiniest flicker of hope as I consider, for just a second, what that might be like. But as I study my daughter, I know there’s more to this than that.
“She’s so young, though, Bug. Not much older than you.” I shift uncomfortably, dropping my gaze. “How can you be fine with that?”
Juliana blows out a long breath. “Honestly? I was more worried you’d die alone, clutching your spreadsheets to your chest.”
I grunt a humorless laugh.
“Look.” Juliana touches my arm again, drawing my gaze back to hers. “I don’t care if she’s young. I care that you’re finally letting yourself feel something. Letting yourself care about something that’s not the school.”
“But what if it doesn’t work?” My voice cracks. “What if I ruin her position here?”
“Well…” Juliana lifts a shoulder. “She’s a big girl. Let her figure that out. Trust her to make her own decisions.”
I rub the back of my neck. I do trust Eleanor’s judgment, more than I thought possible, but I’d never forgive myself if I hurt her career.
“Don’t let her slip away, Dad. She’s awesome. You’re insufferable. You don’t realize how lucky you are.”
“Exactly. I’m insufferable.” I stare bitterly at the floor. “She deserves better.”
Juliana doesn’t argue. She just looks at me, patient and loving, and for a brief moment I forget which one of us is the parent.
After a long moment, she says quietly, “You don’t have to be perfect. For reasons I don’t quite grasp, she doesn’t seem bothered by your flaws. She seems to want you in spite of them. Or maybe because of them.”
I lift my gaze again. Despite myself, I can’t help but wonder if she’s right. Eleanor has seen me for who I am from the start, and still wants me. Only an idiot would throw that away.
“She makes you better,” Juliana says gently. “Less uptight. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time.”
“But—”
“Take something for yourself, for once,” my daughter pleads.
I stare at her for a long moment. Part of me still wants to argue, to list every reason this is a mistake, every way it could go wrong. That I’m too old. That I should know better. That people will talk.
But none of it holds the weight it used to. Not when I picture Eleanor’s face. Not when I remember the way she looked at me like I wasn’t a hardened shell of a man, but a man worth wanting.
And if I don’t do something, if I push her away for good, someone else will get what I was too afraid to take for myself.
Someone else will make her laugh. Stay late to be near her.
Walk her to her car for a few more minutes of her warmth.
The thought lands sharp and hollow in my chest, and I press a hand to my sternum.
I’ve spent so long convincing myself that control is safety. That duty is paramount. But maybe Juliana’s right. Maybe I’ve been holding so tightly to life, I’ve forgotten how to live.
I exhale slowly, and this time, the fight leaves me.
Juliana looks at me firmly. “Go to her.”
I blink. “What? Now?”
“Yes. Now, Dad. Before you think of another reason not to.”
My pulse surges at the thought of getting in my car and driving to Eleanor’s house. Showing up on her doorstep. Telling her I want this.
And yet, I can’t stop myself from reaching for my keys and tugging on my jacket. My daughter beams as I rake a hand nervously through my hair, handing me the glass of whiskey from the coffee table. I take a long swig and kiss the top of her head.
Then I stride out the door, pulling up Eleanor’s address from her staff file as I head to my car, noting she’s only a few minutes away. I could walk, but that gives me more time to talk myself out of it.
Instead, I hop into my Range Rover, stepping on the gas before I can second-guess myself. A few minutes later I’m outside her house, heart racing as I step from the car. Smoothing a hand down my shirt, I curse myself. I should have changed. Showered. Shaved.
But I couldn’t risk losing my nerve.
I double check the address, then head down the cobbled walkway that leads to the carriage house out back.
There’s a single light illuminating the front door, and I suck in a lungful of salty night air, my pulse quickening as I knock.
I can only hope everything Juliana said is true, and that Eleanor will be happy to see me.
The door opens, and she blinks up at me.
Despite the late hour, she hasn’t changed out of the outfit she wore earlier today—a scarlet-red cardigan over a black and white polka-dot skirt.
Her hair is mussed, though, strands falling loose from her strawberry-shaped barrette.
I want nothing more than to unclip that barrette, let her hair fall around her face, and bury my nose in it.
Her brows spring up in surprise when she sees me, and I glance over my shoulder along the path, the reality of what I’ve done hitting me. I’ve shown up at an employee’s house unannounced.
“Uh, hi,” I say tentatively. “I… got your address from your file.”
It occurs to me suddenly that if Eleanor isn’t on the same page as me, this could come across as threatening and unhinged.
“Sorry, Eleanor.” I grimace. “I should… I should go.”
But her shock gives way to something else. A smile. Relief.
“No,” she says quickly. “You shouldn’t.” She steps aside, motioning for me to enter. I hover on the doorstep.
“Are you sure?”
A smile curves along her beautiful lips, her gaze locking on mine. “I’m sure.”
Something loosens inside me, a clenched fist letting go. For the first time in weeks, maybe longer, I can breathe. She wants this. Wants me. And God help me, I want her too. Enough to risk it all.
I step inside.