Chapter 4
Theo
I have been trying to find the right time to approach her since I first saw her through the window. I haven’t stopped thinking about the glow of her skin or how she tucked her hair behind her ear when writing. It has been driving me crazy not knowing who she is, not knowing her name.
When she dropped her pen on the floor, I took the opportunity.
I just needed to get closer to her, but the way she bit her lip in embarrassment had my heart pounding hard in my chest. With her dog deciding to do God’s work and trip her up, my feet moved quicker than my brain did, and with the weight of her body in my arms, the world stopped and went silent.
Sitting this close, close enough to smell the soft sweetness of her shampoo, makes her beauty harder to resist. Her unfinished sentence from yesterday has been playing on my mind since I left.
I am desperate to find out what she was going to say, but it seems the moment has passed.
She hasn’t mentioned it again, so when the conversation dips, I take the opportunity and ask.
“The other day you were going to say something to me, and my phone buzzed, stopping you. I want to know what you were thinking.” She shakes her head, telling me she can’t remember; however, her face tells me she has just lost her confidence to say it.
I gently place my hand on hers, where it is splayed across her notebook, holding it in place.
I can’t ignore the small gasp she makes with my touch.
A sound that sparks something inside me, hitting harder than it should.
“You can ask me anything, Elizabeth. I’ll be as honest as I can.
” She drags her hand away from underneath mine, slowly, as if changing her mind as she does it.
Her eyes narrow and her eyebrows knit together, questioning whether she should trust me.
After a long pause, she finally looks up and opens her lips to speak.
“You keep coming here, Theo, and I really enjoy our time together, but does your wife not wonder what you’re doing?”
Her question strikes me in the chest, the feeling pushing me back in my chair.
I rub my hand across my mouth, hiding just how much that question hurt.
I rise from my chair and, without another word, carry our coffee cups to the back of the café, placing them on an empty table in a dark corner.
If she wants to have this conversation, it needs to be away from prying eyes.
“I can’t have this conversation with you here. Get your things and come to the other table.” I hear the harshness in my tone. I didn’t mean it to sound that way, and the drop in her shoulders shows me just how hard it was. I soften my voice and rest my palm on her back. “Please?”
If she wants to know, she will. I’ll tell her everything.
She cautiously rises from her chair and makes her way to the table.
“Have I made you angry, Theo?” Her timid voice barely carries, and I have to concentrate to hear what she says. She looks smaller in the dim light, and it makes me want to wrap my arms around her, protect her, and remove the worry from her eyes.
“No, Elizabeth, you haven’t angered me, but if this is the conversation you need us to have, that is what we’re going to do.”
She sits down next to me, and her hand goes back to her coffee cup, cradling it as if it’s keeping her safe.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the stories about us, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked.” She nods, her body cautious. I need her to relax. To trust me. “Not everything you read is true, but the stories that are the most accurate are the ones that portray our marriage as dead in the water.”
The next part takes all my strength to say.
I have never admitted this to anyone. It makes me feel exposed, a feeling I’m not entirely comfortable with.
“The stories about us living separate lives… those are the ones you should be taking notice of.” Her body shifts, leaning closer without seeming to realise it.
“We live separately, and I am happy with it that way. So is Olivia. We’re together for our son. Nothing else.”
She is watching me intently, taking in every word. After a moment of silence, she speaks.
“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry I asked, Theo.
I didn’t mean to make you cross.” My breath becomes ragged listening to her unnecessary apology.
I place my finger under her chin and lift it so she’ll look at me.
The touch of her skin on mine sends a sensation from the tip of my finger to the end of my arm. I flinch, almost moving my hand away.
“I told you, Elizabeth, I am not cross or mad at you. I’m not sure I ever could be.
” We hold each other’s gaze as the coffee shop fades from around me.
Just the two of us. Her eyes grow wide, causing me to ache for her.
She parts her lips as if to say something and then closes them again, changing her mind.
Over the next few days, the sun outside starts getting warmer with the incoming summer, and our conversations become a pattern.
Some days we speak for as long as we can, about everything and nothing.
Other days we sit in silence. I enjoy the rare peaceful moments.
The brief glances she makes without lifting her head.
As if she is studying me from the corner of her eye.
She tries so hard to hide it, but I see the flutter of her eyelashes every time.
I watch her too closely not to notice. Every day it ends in the same way.
My phone buzzes; a message from Nigel warning me that paparazzi are close. I swiftly say goodbye and leave.
Elizabeth doesn’t ask why I keep coming back, but if she ever did, I would tell her.
Sitting with her on these mornings fills me with a quiet serenity.
A feeling that seems to be foreign to me.
Where the chaos is quiet and the demands of my life seem to wash away.
I study the way she writes in her book; her hand moving furiously some days and other days only writing a few words.
She doesn’t ask me unnecessary questions or pry into my celebrity life.
She allows me to sit there, simply enjoying every moment I have with her.
As our meetings grow more frequent, her words on the page become fewer. Our private conversations take priority. Listening to her voice, soft spoken and calm, causes me to ache with protectiveness. Her quietness bringing out a side of me that I lost a long time ago.
Every day when I say goodbye, my heart jumps a little.
Every time I leave, it feels like I am being torn away from her.
I don’t understand what it is about this woman that makes me come back every day, risking a story in the papers every single time I sit down at this table.
Maybe it’s the fact that she treats me like a human.
No expectations. I’m just a normal person, like everybody else in the coffee shop.
For those hours that we sit together, I am not Theodore Masters the superstar; I am Theo.
The man.
I climb into the backseat of my car and look at Nigel in the rearview mirror.
“I think I’m in trouble, Nigel.” He looks back at me and smiles. I rest my head on the headrest, closing my eyes. Not another word is spoken as he puts the car into drive and pulls away from the heartache I know I’m setting that girl up for.