Page 88 of Here We Go Again

“I was thinking we could go for a walk on the beach?” he says as soon as we’re outside. “There’s access at the edge of the parking lot.”

“Okay,” I say, promptly turning and heading toward the beach. I stop when I reach the sand and tug off my shoes, hooking them over my fingers as I head toward the surf. I have a sudden need to feel the water on my toes—or maybe I just need a second to breathe, to get away from Theo long enough to figure out why I’m feeling so utterly irrational.

I drop my shoes on the sand where I’m sure the tide won’t wash them away, then walk into the water, lifting my dress up to my thighs so it doesn’t get wet.

I stand there for several long moments, water lapping over my feet, before Theo appears beside me, barefoot, pants rolled up to his knees. Thankfully, we’re on a relatively quiet stretch of beach. A few couples walk a dozen yards away, but no one is close enough to hear us or even care.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, his tone gentle.

I shake my head no.

“Okay,” he says, zero judgment in his tone.

It’s probably that fact—that he doesn’t try to push me—that makes me spin to face him. “Actually, just kidding. I do want to talk about it. I just don’t know how.”

“Just blurt it out,” he says. “Don’t try to make the words perfect. Just say them.”

I nod and take a steadying breath. “When I saw those women at our table, I felt irrationally, insanely jealous.”

He pushes his hands into his pockets. “When I saw Rory outside the bar that night I picked you up, I wanted to punch him for the same reason.”

I smile at this—I wouldn’t mind seeing Theo punch Rory.

“I know they were just fans,” I say, the words already coming easier. “My reaction was totally unjustified. But I think I have some weird feelings about the last eight years of your life. About the women and all the pictures and the rumors and why you seem to deflect whenever I ask you about your dating history.” The wind blows a strand of my hair across my face, and I swat it away. “I want to not care. It shouldn’t matter—it truly doesn’t matter. My brain knows that. But I have this knot right here in my chest…” I lift a fist to my sternum, pressing it right between my breasts. “And I don’t know how to make it go away.”

“Becca,” Theo says softly, but I’m too keyed up, my many, many emotions rolling and turning and tangling with each other, creating such a jumbled mess, I’m not sure I can stop.

“Maybe some part of it is jealousy,” I continue. “Or maybe I’m just so freaking terrified that if I let myself fall for you, it might happen again. I might lose you just like I did last time, and I don’t think I could survive that kind of heartbreak a second time.”

“Becca,” he repeats, his tone a little more urgent, but I shake my head one more time.

“I want this, Theo. But I don’t know how to not be scared.”

The moon is bright over the water, and there’s light bleeding over from the parking lot behind us, but it’s still hard to see Theo’s face. It makes me wish we were somewhere else, somewhere quiet, private, where I could see the blue of his eyes and read his emotions in the twitch of his eyebrows or the clench of his jaw.

Theo must be thinking something similar because he doesn’t say anything. He just reaches out and takes my hand and tugs me back up the beach to where our shoes are waiting.

Wordlessly, Theo puts his back on, but my feet are too sandy, so I remain barefoot, carrying my shoes all the way to the edge of the parking lot. The gravel parking lot, so I guess I am putting my shoes back on. I drop one shoe and unbuckle the strap on the other, but then Theo steps closer, scooping the discarded shoe off the ground and handing it back to me.

“Here,” he says, then he lifts me and both shoes into his arms and carries me across the parking lot.

The car unlocks as soon as we approach—it’s fancy like that—and he manages to shift my weight just enough to open the passenger side door. He sets me onto the seat, then takes my face into his hands, his thumb brushing lightly across my bottom lip. “There’s something I want to tell you,” he says gently. “Just not here.”

I nod and spin my legs into the car, letting Theo close the door.

There’s something sexy about this take-charge version of him. I’ve never been much of the damsel-in-distress type, but even I have to admit there are worse things than having a man like Theo carry you across a parking lot.

As soon as he’s in the car, he reaches over and grabs my hand, entwining his fingers with mine and pressing it tightly against the top of his thigh. There’s a certainty to his actions, a marked sternness that feels … like he’s claiming me. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, even for a moment, I might slip away, and he’s not going to let that happen.

The longer we drive, the more the tension between us ratchets up, up, up. I can’t take my eyes off Theo. The line of his jaw, the determined look on his face. I have no idea what’s happening or what he wants to tell me, but by the time we pull into the driveway of the beach house, I’m ready to climb across the center console, park myself in his lap, and kiss him senseless.

As soon as he cuts the engine, he looks down at our still-clasped hands, then lifts them to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the side of my thumb.

“Don’t move,” he whispers, then he gets out and jogs around to my side of the car. He opens my door, and I take his hand, letting him help me out onto the smooth concrete of the drive. His hands land on my waist and slide down to the curve of my hips.

“You’re being very serious, Theo,” I say, and he offers me a small smile.

“Because I have something very serious to say. Can we talk in the pool? I think the heat is finally getting to me.”