Chapter 27 Lexie
“Well you look as beautiful as ever,” I say to my mom as I walk into her apartment. “Yellow’s a great color on you.”
“To think I raised you to be a decent human being,” my mom says with a scowl. “You’re not too old to ground. Just remember that.”
I laugh, set a few bags of groceries on her counter and start stacking her fridge.
A month after my mom’s accident and head injury, the bruising has morphed from a terrible red, to purple, to a now faded yellow.
We can joke about it now, but the relief I feel knowing she’s not permanently hurt still hits me hard.
“Did you have your appointment with Theo yesterday?” I ask, keeping my gaze steady on the fridge rack as I stack yogurts, and not on her eyes.
It’s been less than a week since Theo and I had breakfast and wandered through the market together, and if I thought he occupied my thoughts before, I was wrong.
I saw a side of him I didn’t know existed.
Kind. Open. Human. Our conversation over crepes seemed to put us both on unfamiliar ground, easing into an easy, almost intimate comfort.
So much so that my plans to confront him about being a freakishly obsessed stalker, and demand to know why he rented a place next to mine, evaporated.
As we strolled past the different booths, the easy silences felt just as natural as talking.
And something in me didn’t want to break the spell.
It’s weird, and creepy, and should be more concerning, and yet, there’s a sense of safety knowing he’s watching me.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way, and it feels… nice.
For once, he opened up—about the pressures at work, his strained relationship with his mother after I caught him ignoring one of her calls and I couldn’t help myself asking what was up.
He even reluctantly admitted, after I forced it out of him, that the approaching wedding was making him only slightly nervous.
We’ve texted every day since. It usually starts wedding talk, but slowly it morphs into swapping movie suggestions, him telling me stories about his patients, me venting to him about vendors, and telling him about former bridezillas, and grooms I wanted to strangle.
My heart is stretching in a way I didn’t know it could, and I know any moment it’s going to snap. Our budding… friendship… will end when the job is over. I can’t delude myself that when him and Annabelle are married, we’ll keep in contact.
And something about that hits hard.
“Yes, my appointment with Dr. Astor was great yesterday,” my mom says, handing me the rest of the grocery items. “He said I have the body of a healthy seventy-year-old.”
I laugh. “You’re only fifty-five.”
She waves me away. “I’m just kidding. He said the new thyroid meds are working, and the vitamin D levels are inching up, but he wants to see them higher.” She hands me the final item, and I close the door. “You know, I sure had that boy pegged wrong.”
My heart squeezes so hard in my chest that I grip the countertop. I think I may have misjudged him, too. I’ve been replaying what happened at the university over and over in my mind and the thought that I might have had this all wrong keeps itching at me.
My mom grabs two sodas and a bag of potato chips, and settles into the couch. “Are you two still spending a lot of time together?”
I nod, and stuff chips in my mouth. She doesn’t need to know how much time, even though I want to tell my mom everything. But who in their right mind tells their mom that they’re actively falling for an engaged man who once ruined their life? Or at least thought they ruined their life.
Maybe I’ll never know if he got me expelled. My life is different now. I’m different. He’s different. It might be time to finally let this go.
A spotlight shines on the terrible thing I’m doing.
Explaining my feelings to my mom, how I ache for him when he’s not around, how I’ve never felt so safe and protected and stimulated, would fall on deaf, judgmental ears.
My mom’s Catholic. I can already see her reciting the Hail Mary under her breath as her thumb and index finger rub a phantom rosary.
Religious or not, I deserve the wrath.
She must know that I don’t want to say much more, because she turns on the TV and we resume our bi-weekly ritual of watching the local news while painting our toenails. Several long moments pass and my mom leans into me.
“My beautiful, sweet girl,” she says as she gives me a soft smile. “I love you. And you deserve to be happy. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself too, okay?”
With those words, I return to face the TV and blink back tears.
“Justin, noooo. Don’t make me go alone,” I plead into the phone, trying to reason with my former best friend who just told me that he thinks he has food poisoning and cannot accompany me to an event tonight. “That creepy ass rep, Cody, is going to be there and you know he won’t leave me alone.”
Tonight, the most connected vendor we work with is hosting a client appreciation night and Sydney said (demanded) that Justin and I attend to represent our company since she’s out of town on a wedding.
I don’t love these events, but they’re a necessary evil in this line of work.
And now that I’m a lead, my presence is expected.
But going alone is going to be miserable.
After Justin apologizes, again, Theo suddenly pops into my head as someone to bring instead, but I immediately shut it down.
Inviting a client to a work event would cross every professional boundary, not to mention the fact that he’s getting married in ninety days.
And I’m still digging into his connection to Olivia, still telling myself I want to take him down—or at least that I should.
But, my feelings are muddying my judgment.
I know I need to focus on the task at hand. I know I need to let him go.
But I can’t.
Every moment I spend with Theo, I fall deeper and deeper into his orbit, and it’s dangerous. The Barlowe and Astor families are powerful, wealthy, untouchable. If they found out even a fraction of my intentions, my career would be over and I’d be blacklisted from every company in the city.
And yet, I can’t shake this feeling that Theo doesn’t want this marriage. He rented an apartment next to mine! He seeks me out, talks to me, sees me in a way no one else ever has. A man who makes someone feel like this can’t want to get married. He just can’t.
Maybe he’s torn. With Annabelle, he gets the prestige, her kindness and security. And me? I’m not sure. But whatever he sees in me, the way he studies me, wants to know every part of me—it wraps around my heart and makes me feel almost whole.
What I’m doing is wrong. The lines are blurred, and he’s a client for Christ’s sake. But I made a promise that I’ll never act on my feelings, and I won’t go back on my word.
I slip on a black dress, my impulsive fingers twitching to open the blinds. I know it’s wrong, but the rush of imagining Theo’s eyes burning into me is far too tempting. Is he at the apartment tonight? Does he want to watch me get dressed?
I should have confronted him about the apartment when I had the chance.
If a friend or my mom or literally any woman told me a man had rented a place nearby just to watch them through the window, I’d call it what it is: sick.
Stalking. I’d tell them to buy a gun and go straight to the cops.
Every feminist principle etched into my bones is screaming at me now, warning me how deeply problematic this behavior is.
And yet, I can’t stop secretly loving it.
Ever since I found out about the apartment, I’ve gotten myself off every night with the knowledge that he’s fixed his attention exclusively on me.
Maybe it’s awakened something dark and exhibitionistic.
Maybe it’s the rush of power—knowing that a man like Theo, who has everything, wants me badly enough to get an apartment and watch me.
That might be the most dangerous part of it all. Because for the first time in my adult life, I feel safe. Watched. Protected.
And somewhere inside of me, the nineteen-year-old girl who crushed hard on Theodore Astor is giddy at the thought that he might be wanting me back.
Then another thought settles in—he remembers me.
He has to. There’s no way he rented an apartment opposite to mine after only knowing me a couple of months.
Right? Or was he serious that first day when he said he keeps those he doesn’t trust closest to him?
It’s impossible to ignore the fact that even if he wants me, he doesn’t fully trust me.
As if he has a sixth sense, my phone rings and my heart skips a beat when I see his name.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, sorry, I know this is random to call instead of texting,” he says quickly. “But I’m heading out to meet some friends and wanted to tell you that I took next Monday off. Can you move our meeting with the florist to then?”
“Sure,” I say, and because I can’t help myself. “So… what are you doing tonight?”
“Heading to an Irish pub in West Village to watch the Mets while I pretend to give a shit when one of the guys pitches me investment opportunities.”
I chuckle. “Wow, living the dream. What a coincidence, I’ll be a few blocks away at The Cloak and Mirage for a vendor event, pretending to give a shit while a rep pitches ‘exciting growth opportunities’.”
“That does sound terrible,” he says. “My condolences. Remember to hydrate.”
“You ever turn doctor mode off?”
A low chuckle hums through the phone. “Careful what you ask for.”
Yeah. This man absolutely knows what he’s doing.
An hour later, I smack my lipstick, spritz on perfume, and head outside to catch my Uber. I can’t help taking one last glance at Theo’s place, but the drapes are still drawn.
Just two hours of my life I need to give to this party and then I can call it a night.
I silently beg the universe that even though it’s Cody’s company hosting the party, he won’t be here this year.
Last time, he trailed me from conversation to conversation, pretentiously droning on about the accounts he’d landed while I smiled through clenched teeth.
The real highlight was when he confidently tried to mansplain my own job to me, apparently under the delusion that I needed his guidance to build connections in an industry I’ve spent years working in.
As we drive through the city, I casually start scrolling through social media looking for “Olivia, New York” but my heart isn’t in it.
Maybe I don’t want to know who this woman is anymore.
I’m no longer interested in destroying Theo.
And even if I did find her—what then? It scares me that I no longer know what I’d do next.
Without thinking, I switch to my messages and pull up Theo’s name. I shouldn’t. He said he’s with friends.
Lexie: Did the game start already?
I stare at my screen, waiting for a reply, or at the very least typing bubbles to appear and… nothing. He’s probably enjoying himself and not thinking about me even once. Get over yourself, Lexie.
And then, my phone pings.
Theo: Yes and it already sucks.
Theo: Forgot to mention I bought you something today while out shopping. I’ll bring it to you next time we meet.
A picture pops up of a bottle of Catena Zapapta Adrianna Malbec. Oh my God. Butterflies flip in my belly. I can’t accept this, right? I mean, the wine costs several hundred dollars.
Lexie: I can’t accept it.
Theo: You can and will.
Oof… that demanding tone. I can just picture him saying this as his dark eyes narrow, as his jaw flexes under that facial hair. I press my thighs together and bite back a grin.
Theo: Besides, I’m learning the stupid wedding dance later this week, so consider this my apology—paid in advance.
I text back a thank you as the Uber pulls over. I shrug my purse over my shoulder and brace myself for what’s in store.