Chapter 30 Lexie
My fuzzy white bathrobe normally provides me with some comfort, but today, it’s not working.
I unravel my dripping hair from the towel, which I toss in the laundry basket, and drag myself to the kitchen.
Even though I stood in the shower until my skin nearly shriveled, I still feel dirty from what happened last night.
Cody. Maybe I should be worried. But I’m not. A man like that has probably done—and will continue to do—worse things. Maybe Theo taught him a lesson.
Theo. I want to erase his image, how he made me feel, the way my body burned, but I can’t and I’m furious that I can’t. But the way he spoke to me, threatening me because of whoever this Olivia woman is, gutted me.
God, why, why, why does the idea that this woman is more important to him than me make me want to cry? The man’s getting married. I’m planning his goddamn wedding. I shouldn’t be getting upset over him.
I need to get my head on straight. Starting now. I’m going to go for a long jog, come back, drink buckets of coffee, read a book by the window, and not think of Theodore Astor for one more second.
A knock on my apartment door makes my head jolt. No one ever comes here. The clock shows it’s barely after eight a.m. I tug my robe tighter at the chest, tiptoe to the door, and look through the peephole.
Theo.
What in the hell? How did he even get into my building? Honestly, does it even matter? I don’t want to see him, I don’t want to talk to him, I don’t want to look at his mouth and smell his scent and listen to that voice that makes me melt. How dare he?
I yank open the door, ready to tell him to fuck all the way off, but my breath catches.
Sweatpants. Snug white tank. Messy, unbrushed hair. Firm, rounded shoulders, smooth skin, full sleeve tattoos snaking up his arms. Jesus Christ if I thought this man looked good in a sharp button-down, it is nothing compared to how he looks now.
I cross my arms. “What do you want?”
“Can we talk?” he says, his eyes creased, his voice gentle, his palm pressing against the doorframe.
“I’m not in the mood.”
He sighs. “I need to speak to you. If… if you’ll give me a chance to explain, I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say. Please, Lexie.” As I go to slam the door in his face, he puts out his hand. “I’m begging you. Five minutes, okay? That’s all I need.”
I’ve seen different sides to Theo during college and over these past few months. Challenging. Haunting. Raging. Laughing. But never have I seen him groveling.
I don’t know what possesses me to do it. Maybe I want to see this look on his face a little longer. Or maybe no matter how much I hate him right now, I know deep down that I already miss him. So, I hold the door open. He lowers his head and follows me inside.
It feels weird having Theo here. Part of me wants to ask him if he wants some coffee, part wants to scream about how bad he hurt me, and this other part wants to feel his mouth again on mine, no matter how deeply wrong it is.
I’m sick. And disgusting. And I’ll never let him kiss me again. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to.
I slide into the furthest spot on the couch and tug a blanket over myself.
Theo sits. Then stands. Then sits. Then paces.
Another version I haven’t seen of Theo? Nervous.
He walks to the window and clasps his fingers behind his head, and my impatience spikes. I’m so tired of being kept in the dark.
“Are you trying to see your apartment from here?” I ask, not hiding my disdain. “Because you do realize watching me through a window is unhinged, right? Like genuinely disturbing, restraining-order-level, stalker shit.”
The words land hard. They’re meant to.
And yet—even as I say them—I know the truth I hate admitting: I never once felt afraid of him.
He drops his hands, the tension drains out of him as he exhales. “I have no excuse,” he says quietly.
I’m thrown by his immediate defeat, left unsure how to respond.
“Why are you here?” I ask, trying to search his eyes, but he’s staring at the floor.
Silence builds and I’m annoyed that he begged for five minutes and has barely said a word.
“Can we both just be adults and at least acknowledge that there’s something supremely fucked up happening here?
So deeply wrong, I can barely look at myself in the mirror.
Everything that happened last night… I’m your wedding planner.
Whatever this is between us has to stop. ”
He leans against the wall, crossing his ankles and arms.
“Besides,” I say, not withholding the bitterness in my tone, “based on your reaction last night, clearly I’m not the only one who has caught your attention.”
This makes his eyes snap to me, but it’s not rage filled like last night. He takes a deep breath. “Olivia’s not who you think she is.”
Oh, please. Not this again.
He starts pacing again. “She’s one of my father’s victims.”
My mouth drops. Did I just hear him right? What does he mean, a victim? “Wait… what? Your father?”
The pacing slows and he sits on the opposite side of the couch.
“I want to tell you everything, but I don’t know if it’s right for me to do so.
These women… their stories… it’s not for me to share until they’re ready.
Even saying her name feels like I’m breaking her trust. But, yes, my father did horrible things. ”
Victims? Dr. Astor, world-renowned professor? My head spins.
A long moment passes. Theo drags his hands down his face, and exhales. “I’m trusting you with this because you deserve the truth. But, Lexie, you have to promise me you won’t say anything. There are lives at stake, reputations, years-long investigative work gone into this…”
Everything in me tightens and somehow softens at the same time.
“Of course, I won’t say anything,” I say quickly.
“If it helps, this is all covered under your NDA. Not that I would ever victim blame or shame.” The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I have.
I take a breath, then offer a small olive branch. “Do you want coffee?”
The tiniest uptick happens in his lip, and he nods. “Yes, fucking, please.”
After I brew and pour coffee, I return to the couch and wait for him to resume his story.
“I’ve been investigating my father for over seven years.”
Seven years. Since I was his aide.
“It started with a gut feeling I had about him, then I started to hear rumors and…” And so he talks.
And talks. And talks. We drain a pot of coffee, we snack on fruit and dried cereal, we change couch positions, and he keeps talking.
He tells me about a freelance journalist who’s written articles for the Times, Sun, and AP, who’s helping him investigate.
But the women are hesitant, understandably so, intimidated by his mother’s money and his father’s prestige.
But he and the journalist believe that if Olivia, and maybe one other person, comes forward, there would finally be enough evidence for the public to listen.
“So, this is why you hate your father,” I say.
“Yeah,” he answers. “It’s part of it. The rest is… a pretty fucked-up upbringing.”
I have even more questions but I don’t pry.
If he wants to tell me, he will. “I told you I worked for your father, remember?” I ask.
“But I didn’t see this. Not for myself.” I’m not na?ve.
I’d heard rumors of his father having affairs with his students.
But dorm gossip runs as rampant as a wildfire on dry timber, and I always thought the chatter was just rumors.
Theo doesn’t say anything for a long time. “Well, I’m glad. I guess you were one of the lucky ones.”
I never thought being unfairly expelled from school was lucky. But maybe… he’s right. “What’s your goal with all of this?”
“For everyone to know what he’s done.”
I cock my head. “That’s your goal? What do you get out of it?”
He stands and moves toward the window. At first I think I’ve said something to make him mad, but I realize he’s just thinking. I wait for a bit, let him process what he’s told me, then join him at the window and look at the traffic below.
After a long silence, he says, “It’s not about what I get out of it.
Yes, I want to see him buried. He deserves to be destroyed for what he did.
Maybe it’s a need for justice, I don’t know.
” He crosses his arms and exhales. “But it’s less about me and more about the need to give these women back something.
Closure. A chance to tell their story. Help them shed something that’s been haunting them so they can reclaim their voice.
They were left unprotected. And it’s my personal mission to make them feel… protected.”
I hate the way my heart swells at his words.
I want to bury myself into his chest and tell him he’s a good man.
God, I wish he wasn’t getting married because all I want is to have him protect me and make me feel safe.
I nudge myself a little closer and lean my head against his bare shoulder.
He leans down and kisses the top of my head, and God, I want to lean into it so fucking bad.
But in telling me this, he’s lifted a weight I’ve been carrying around since the day I saw him in the hotel with Olivia, and I’m grateful to finally let it go.
I lift my head and step back, away from his smooth skin and mouth-watering scent. “Thank you for being honest with me. What you’re doing for these women, it’s really noble. Annabelle is one lucky woman.”
A warm smile breaks across his face. Knowing. He faces me, lifts his hand to my cheek, and swipes his thumbs across my skin.
Tears spring to my eyes, and I take a wide step back.
I’m not strong enough for this. He needs to leave, now.
“Please don’t do this. Please, Theo… my heart can’t take it.
” My lips tremble. “It’s too much.” He takes another step towards me like I didn’t just beg him to stop, and I shake my head. “Please don’t.”
His dark eyes burn into mine, and there’s still this look on his face that I can’t describe. Soft, determined, serious. “Are you holding back because you don’t want me… or because I’m getting married?”
The reason doesn’t matter. We can’t. If my body and heart would listen to my mind, this would be so much easier. “Because…” I pull in a sharp breath, tired of keeping up the act. “Because you’re getting married.”
I hate admitting it, but it’s true.
And then he takes a step closer. And then another, completely closing the gap between us. His body presses against mine and my throat rolls as I swallow. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he says, trailing a finger down my robe, then gripping the belt. “Because the wedding’s off.”