Page 42 of Here We Go Again

See? Problem solved.

As if mocking me, my stomach immediately grumbles with hunger, then my bladder wakes up and alerts me to the fact that I really, really need to pee.

I sigh and toss off the covers. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Theo won’t be awake yet? I could always try to sneak out, then send Theo a thank you text once I’m safely back at Indigo’s.

It’s the best plan I’ve had all morning, so I make quick work of getting myself ready. Or as ready as I can with no toothbrush, no hairbrush, and not a stitch of makeup.

My bare face still looks a little tired, puffy from all the crying I did yesterday, and one of the shoulder straps on my dress breaks when I’m putting it on, so I wind up with Theo’s t-shirt on top, cinched up and tied at the waist. But all in all, it could be worse.

I carry my shoes into the living room, tiptoeing as softly as I can. But then my phone slips out of my hand and clatters to the floor. I freeze, waiting, listening, but I don’t hear movement anywhere in the apartment, so I bend down and scoop up my phone and make my way to the kitchen.

“Are you heading out?”

I turn to see Theo standing in his bedroom doorway. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. His hair is disheveled, his voice gravelly with sleep, and he could not look more sexy.

“Yeah,” I say. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad to see you before you go. Do you want a ride?”

“Not for two blocks,” I say.

He nods as he looks me over, then his lips quirk up in a smile. “Are you stealing my shirt?”

I look down at his t-shirt. “Yes? The strap on my dress broke. So it’s either that or walk home with one of my boobs out.” I practically wince as soon as the words are out of my mouth, heat climbing up my cheeks. Did I seriously just mention my boob?

Theo chokes on a laugh. “Well, please don’t do that.”

“I’ll bring it to the MS Walk and give it back then,” I say. “As long as that’s okay.”

“Just keep it,” he says. “I’ve got plenty.”

Somewhere in my room at home, probably stuffed into a box in the back of my closet, there’s another t-shirt that once belonged to Theo. I stole it from him so I could sleep in it, and then I never gave it back.

“Thanks,” I say. “And thanks again for last night.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” I say. “Relieved.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “Still a little foolish.”

He shakes his head. “He’s the foolish one, Bec. A smart man would recognize how lucky he is to be with you. He’d never let you go.”

My breath catches in my throat at his words. It’s the kind of thing people say after a breakup. He doesn’t deserve you. You’re better off without him. But coming from Theo, the words land differently.

Because he did let me go.

All these years later, the sting of that hurt is still worse than anything Rory did.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later?” I say.

Theo runs a hand across his face. “Right. At the MS Walk?”

“Definitely. I’ll look for you,” I say. Then I turn and let myself out of his apartment.

I make it half a block before I catch myself doing it again—lifting the collar of Theo’s shirt to my nose and breathing him in like I have any right to do it.

11

BECCA