3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Now
“Theo." My mother pastes on a stiff smile. "How nice to see you."
Theo takes his hat off and holds it in front of him with both hands, ducking his chin toward her. Randi was always very cognizant of his manners. “Nice to see you too.”
Matilda puts her radio back in her pocket and turns back to us, seeming oblivious to the tension in the air. “Wendy will meet you back at the lawn,” she says to Theo.
Theo nods. “Alright.” He looks over at me, his gaze lingering. I avert my eyes and stare hard at the floor. Silence reigns for a few long seconds before he clears his throat. “Have a good day, ladies.”
“You too!” my mother calls, her voice lukewarm on the surface, downright chilly underneath. “Give my regards to your folks.”
“Of course, ma’am,” Theo says, and I chance a second glance at him. Damn it—his eyes are still on me. My protective instinct says to glare at him, so I do. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk, and in that instant, I feel like the world has been ripped out from beneath me. Memories come in a flood, sending me adrift.
I’m ten and Theo has won four straight games of Battleship.
I’m thirteen and Theo has just figured out how to overwrite the store’s playlist with his own.
I’m seventeen and lying in the back of his truck, counting the stars above me.
As if he knows exactly where my mind is at, Theo’s hazel eyes flash mischievously. With his left hand—there’s no ring, I notice—he puts his cap back on his head, taking longer than necessary to position it, and then gives me a knowing nod before striding out of the ballroom.
I find myself staring at the place where he just stood. Mom clears her throat. “Well,” she huffs. “I see he hasn’t done anything with himself.”
I blink, remembering the way Matilda had announced his arrival on the radio. “He owns the company,” I say. “Or his family does.”
She casts me an annoyed glance. “You should know better than anyone that being a business owner and being successful are not the same thing.” With a scoff, she adds, “There is no way Cecil Hoyt or anyone related to him is running a successful company. Not an honest one, anyway. "
I choose to ignore that last dig, because it's a can of worms we don't need to reopen today. I do open my mouth to point out that the company is being used by this very expensive, very exclusive country club and, therefore, is most likely doing pretty well, but Matilda clears her throat. “Sorry about the interruption, ladies. As I was saying, the slipcovers...”
She continues, my mom interrupting her every so often, while I try to calm myself down. There's no universe in which I could run into Theo again and not be impacted, but of course, Mom isn't concerned about that. The next time Matilda turns her back, she elbows me in the side, just hard enough to be uncomfortable, and I force myself to check back into the conversation.
After we come up with a rough idea of what the wedding will look like now that it’s going to be inside, the decision is made to reconvene in a week. In the meantime, I will make adjustments to the decorations, seating, and other aspects that will need to change now. Then Matilda bids us goodbye and disappears back toward the offices. I watch her go, and I notice that the further she gets from us, the more her shoulders relax.
“Well,” Mom sighs, “that was eventful.”
“I need the restroom,” I tell her. “I’ll meet you at the car.”
She walks off, heels clicking on the ground. I duck into the hall where the restrooms are and push through the frosted door that says ladies in fancy script. Instead of heading for a stall, I go to the sink and grip the edge.
It's true that I still think about Theo more than I would like, but I've become very practiced at not dwelling. It's like a mental game of Whack-a-Mole: something reminds me of Theo, a thought pops up, and I promptly tamp it down. My emotional survival over the past ten years has depended on my ability to separate the past from the present, to remember that Theo left me , that whatever we had as kids was over and done with.
Now, with a single short conversation laden with fake pleasantries, he's somehow managed to knock my entire world off its axis.
Again.
My full-coverage makeup does a good job of hiding the flush on my cheeks, but I can see a hint of red peeking through. I can’t splash cold water on my face without ruining my makeup, so I wet my hands and hold them to the back of my neck, eyes closed, trying to ground myself that way. Breathing deeply, filling my lungs with as much oxygen as possible, I put my purse on the counter and pull out my setting powder. I reapply a thin layer across my cheeks and forehead, trying to get my mask back in place to hide behind.
The door opens. I continue what I’m doing, focusing intently on my own reflection in the mirror, not interested in making small talk with whoever has just walked in.
Then the person steps up behind me, and I nearly drop my compact in the sink.
“Theo,” I hiss, whipping around, “what the hell are you doing? This is the women’s room.”
Ignoring me, he squats down to peer under the stalls. “You alone?”
“Yes!” I shriek, losing all sense of decorum. This is Theo, and even though I haven’t seen him in ten years, he was always the one person I could be genuine with.
So I don’t bother trying to keep up appearances. I just throw my make up back in my purse and fling my arm toward the door. “Get out!”
Theo crosses his arms over his chest. There are some smudges of dirt on his jeans that weren’t there before, and I wonder what he was doing outside. “I just want to talk to you.”
My name sounds the same coming off his tongue as the last time I heard it, and I feel it all the way to my toes. “About what?” I demand, angry at the effect he still has on me. “What could you and I possibly have to talk about? I don’t even know you anymore.”
“Funny,” he shoots back. “I was going to say the same thing. What the hell is all this?” He gestures broadly, and it takes a minute for me to realize that by ‘all this’, he’s referring to my face. “You don’t even look like yourself.”
“I don’t look like myself ten years ago, no,” I snap, although I can’t help but notice that he looks overwhelmingly like he did the last time I saw him. So much so that it makes my heart pound. “People grow up, Theo. People change.”
Theo shakes his head. His expression is some combination of disappointed and sad and puzzled. The last time we saw each other, he was certainly all of those things, but I try not to think about that. His eyes skate over me, assessing. The combined cost of my outfit is about twelve hundred dollars, and I think he can tell. “So who’s the guy?” he asks.
I move my left hand, just to make sure he has a good view of the three-carat diamond on my fourth finger. “His name is Daniel.”
“And is he the reason you got a nose job?” There’s an edge to Theo’s voice. “Is he the reason you had your birthmark removed? Bleached your hair?”
Anger surges through me, and I know my nostrils are flaring. “Fuck you, Theo.”
I turn my back on him and shake my purse, checking that all my things are inside before hiking it up my shoulder. The thing is, Theo is a lot closer to the truth than I’d like to admit. It’s unnerving how much he can still read me. I feel like I’m under attack right now, like all the parts of me I keep locked down are about to be extracted by the only person in the world who could do it.
With my head held high and my shoulders back, I begin to walk purposefully toward the door. There isn’t room to completely avoid Theo’s muscular frame. I try to brush past him, but he steps in front of me, looking troubled.
“You are insane,” I snap, starting to lose my patience. “We are strangers and you are in the women’s restroom, blocking me from leaving. I should call the police.”
“Really?” he asks wryly as his eyebrows hike up his forehead. “You want the police involved?”
The breath leaves my lungs. I’m amazed that he’s able to bring up our last day together so cavalierly—I never allow myself to think about it.
“No,” I admit.
Theo’s voice softens. He leans in, fixing me with that penetrating gaze that I’ve never been able to escape. “You know you’re safe with me.”
He’s right, but he doesn’t need the satisfaction of knowing that. At no point in this interaction have I felt unsafe. Even after all this time, I still know with absolute certainty that Theo wouldn’t hurt me.
Not physically, anyway.
“I’m going to count to five, Theo, and—”
“Fine.” He steps aside, sweeping his arm toward the door. “Go.”
“Thank you.”
I stomp to the door and yank on the handle. It opens so hard that it bangs against the wall, but I can’t bring myself to care. I’m halfway into the hall when I hear, “See you around.”
I stop and look around. Nobody else is in the hall. Just to be safe, I lean back into the bathroom and lower my voice. “Like hell you will.”
Theo is still standing in the middle of the women’s restroom, hands in his pockets, looking completely unbothered. He puts two fingers to his forehead and gives me a sarcastic salute. “Better go find Kelly,” he quips. “You guys probably have a Botox treatment to get to.”
“You’re looking a little wrinkly yourself. I’ll get you a referral.”
The beginning of that trademark smirk appears on his face. It does something to me, seeing it again, and although I was prepared to stalk away, I find that my feet are firmly planted on the floor.
Theo sees his opportunity. He takes a step toward me, his face full of intent. “I told you I’d find you.”
“Yeah,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “And it only took you ten years. Great job.”
Pain flickers over his face. “Sass—”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, and then I take my hand off the bathroom door, allowing it to swing shut between us.