Chapter 26 Theo
When Lexie texted me early Friday morning wondering if I wanted to meet for coffee on Saturday to review designs, I couldn’t even respond.
Visions of her, and whoever she was with, and my wedding, and fucking feelings, trapped in my brain and I couldn’t.
I read the message twenty, thirty times before finally messaging her back after my last patient of the day that I was busy.
I wasn’t.
I spent all of Friday night watching her closed-blinds apartment for hours until I finally drifted off to sleep. Saturday, I did the same goddamn thing.
But now it’s Sunday morning, and I’ve done nothing but stare out the window, praying for a flicker of motion, and the most I’ve gotten is shadows of movement behind the blinds.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand and my heart leaps. Every fucking time, it skyrockets, and every time I grab it, my heart plummets when it’s not her. But this time, it skyrockets for the wrong reason.
Dad: Your mother has been trying to reach you.
You are a grown man, capable of making your own decisions, and more than capable of reaching out to the woman who gave you life.
It appears you are too busy for your own mother.
Take a moment and think if she passed tomorrow, how you would settle knowing you refused to return a call.
It’s taken me a long time to break my cycle, but I am not responsible for my parents’ emotions.
Fuck, I can barely keep my own feelings in check.
But my father doesn’t know why I choose to keep my mother at a safe distance.
How I can no longer stomach her enabling his behavior. Neither of them deserves my time.
Instead, the person I want to spend time with, I’ve somehow pushed her away.
Because what? She exercised her free will as an adult woman to have sex?
I hate the rage that fills me thinking of what they did.
And yet, it’s so deeply unjust. I’m getting married.
She fucked someone. This is not the same.
The fury grows, and yet the ravenous need to be around her fortifies.
I pick up the phone and text.
Theo: I know its last minute, but wondering if you wanted to grab breakfast then hit up the Chelsea Market to look for guests’ gifts?
To my surprise, three dots appear immediately. I stop breathing.
Lexie: there just so happens to be the best crepe place in my neighborhood.
I know the place she’s talking about. It is really fucking good.
Theo: Perfect. Will you shoot me the name and address of the restaurant?
Theo: Me and my driver will pick you up at ten.
Two hours later, I’m standing outside of Lexie’s building waiting for her to come down. I lean against the building and stuff my hands in my pockets. Wait, this looks like I’m posing. I stand. I pace. I stuff them back in my pockets then remove them again.
Breathe.
I have no idea how she’ll act. Will she bring up what happened at the dress shop and want to talk about it? Christ, I hope not. What the hell would I even say? That she’s possessed me? That I wanted to tear off the dress and taste her in the dressing room?
And… does she actually know I live in the studio across from her?
Maybe. No? Fuck. I exhale. She can’t know.
How would she? And yet, her blinds have stayed shut ever since she closed them with that middle finger aimed at the window.
That could’ve meant anything—a fuck you to the universe, even. She can’t know. Right?
My thoughts keep swirling, when I hear the apartment door swing open.
Goddammit, she takes my breath away. Always. Even today, in jeans, sneakers, her crimson hair tugged into a ponytail, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“Hey!” she says with a wide smile, a quick wave, and zero torment.
Maybe this isn’t awkward for her. Maybe she loves fucking with me. Maybe I’m overreacting for nothing.
“Thanks for picking me up,” she says. “I’m so excited to hit the market. I haven’t been there in forever.”
I open the door, she slides in, and I try hard to not stare at her phenomenal ass. “Are you more excited for the market or crepes? Be honest.”
“Crepes, of course. But the market’s a close second.” She snaps the seatbelt with a grin. “I’m surprised you suggested going to be honest. I thought we were good on the guest gifts.”
She’s already starting to see through my lie. But I couldn’t stand the idea of going one more day without seeing her. “Yeah, I panicked. I think we need more.”
She lifts a brow. “Theo Astor panicked? That’s a side of you I’ve never seen. What other pieces of you are you hiding?”
A moment passes when I drop my gaze to her plush, pillowy lips, then lock with her eyes. “More than you can know.”
Once we’re seated at the restaurant, I order a chicken spinach crepe.
Lexie orders one loaded with strawberries, chocolate, and extra whipped cream—while also giving me shit that I need to live a little and get more sugar in my life.
I take a sip from my coffee and figure out how best to approach the conversation with her.
“So,” I ask casually, “how come I haven’t seen you much lately?”
“Oh, you know,” she says, “I’ve been busy.” We both know it’s a lie. She’s not making this easy for me.
“Look, I asked you here today because I wanted to apologize for how I acted in the dress shop. We’re planning a wedding together—” I try not to let myself think too much into these words “—and I want us to be on good terms.”
She peeks up at me through dark eyelashes. “Yeah, I think that’s for the best.” She clears her throat. “Thank you. I really do appreciate it.”
Relief warms me. I clap once, a little too cheerful. “Great, now that we’re friends again, I need to know everything I’ve missed out on. Not just wedding stuff, but you. What’s been going on in your life?”
Her eyes narrow at the sudden overfriendliness, but she humors me. “Well, if you insist on knowing, I went on a date.”
Yeah, I know. My jaw clenches. Don’t be a dick. Don’t be a dick. Lexie needs to know that I’m not always an asshole. “How did it go? Did you find ‘the one’?”
“Definitely not the one,” she says with a chuckle and my body releases. “Actually, it kind of sucked.”
The tone perks my ears. “Well, now you have to tell me what happened.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. You don’t want to hear this.”
About a bad date? Yes, the fuck I do. “I’m pretty sure in our contract, subsection B, it states that if Lexie has a bad date, she’s required to provide me with full details.”
She giggles and my chest swells with pride. “Subsection B, huh? Funny I don’t remember that.” She chews her lips into her mouth. “God, it’s embarrassing.”
“Oh good. My specialty.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t quite believe me, but then the server arrives, setting down our plates. Lexie’s eyes go wide at the mountain of whipped cream. Before she can dig in, I stealthily swipe her plate and hold it hostage, “You don’t get to eat,” I say, grinning, “until you tell me.”
“Seriously?” If looks could kill, I’d be dead.
“Fine.” She exhales. “So, I’ve gone out with this guy before.
A few years ago. Nice enough, but, you know, I didn’t text back for a reason.
But I didn’t remember the reason. Until I did.
” She pauses and I can already tell I’m not going to like what comes next.
“He gets to my place and… you know never mind. You’re a client.
I really need to stop talking about this. ”
If she calls me a client one more time, I might throw this crepe into the wall. “I’m not just a client.”
“Yeah, you are,” she says, her smile gone. “And you made that abundantly clear in the dress shop.”
My face heats. Fuck, I hate myself sometimes.
I take a bite and wash it back with coffee.
“God, I can be a dick.” I pause and carefully choose my words.
“There was something about seeing you in that dress that made all of… this… feel real. I’ve been letting myself think that the wedding isn’t fazing me and I’ve got everything under control, but the truth is, I don’t.
I really fucking don’t. And I unfairly took it out on you. I’m really sorry.”
This might be the most honest and open I’ve been in long time. And it feels fucking terrible. She studies my face, her brows crease, until a soft smile breaks through. “Thank you for being honest with me. And for the apology.”
I nod. “Okay, tell me about the date. The food is getting cold.” She hesitates, clearly weighing her options, so I add, more gently. “You can tell me anything.”
That seems to do it. Her shoulders relax.
“So basically, he comes over and wants… you know… right away. There’s a time and place for hook-ups, but he’d asked me for dinner, so I thought that’s what it was.
” She shrugs. “We start doing some stuff, but then I stop and say, “I thought we were going to dinner?”
They didn’t fuck? I shouldn’t ask. I don’t deserve to ask. But I have to know. “So you didn’t…”
Well shit. I asked.
“No, we didn’t.”
Don’t smile. Don’t fucking smile.
Too late.
“And then he actually laughed when I said we should go for dinner. Told me he thought I knew what he meant—that he never had any intention of taking me out. But he guessed, after, we could order take out or something.” The blush creeps back in her cheeks and I feel it—there’s more.
And I will sit here all day until she’s comfortable enough to tell me.
Finally, she takes a breath. “I was so insulted, you know? So I kicked him out. And then he just got kind of mean.”
I immediately scan her face for any sign of trauma, and I swear to fuck if this guy even thought of laying a hand on her…
“He said that the few times we went out back in the day that he knew immediately someone like me wasn’t ‘wife material’.
And it just sort of crushed me, you know?
Not that I need to be a wife. Just like, the way he said it made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be someone’s wife.
Then he said I’ll never be more than eye candy and the quicker I accept it, the better off I’ll be. ”
I’m going to kill this guy. I’m going to stitch his dirty fucking mouth shut first, hang him by the feet, and crack each one of his ribs with my fists until he dies from internal bleeding.
While I’m mentally plotting this fucker’s death, she seizes the moment to steal her plate back. She stabs her fork into the crepe, takes a bite and lets out a dangerously satisfied sound, then flashes me a smug, victorious smile. “Anyway, I should be grateful I dodged a bullet with that guy.”
“Lexie.” I reach for her hand, my thumb brushing over her skin. Before I can stop myself—before I even realize what I’m saying—the words slip out. “Any man, any, would be lucky to have you as their wife.”
The moment hangs between us until Lexie breaks it with a soft scoff. “Please, you’re just saying that to be nice.”
I want to take it back. To laugh it off, pretend it was nothing more than politeness.
But I can’t—not when the truth is sitting heavy in my chest. “I’m not,” I say quietly.
“I promise.” I squeeze her hand, grounding myself.
“You’re smart, driven, have a great sense of humor, and beautiful.
” So fucking beautiful. “Not only are you ‘wife material’, you’re what men dream about.
” You are what I dream about. “You will never, ever waste another second thinking about what this guy said to you. Got it?”
The smile that breaks through brightens the entire space. She nods and returns to her crepes.
And I return to wondering what in the absolute fuck I’m doing.