Page 99 of Apparently, I’m Trouble

I bit my lip and stared at him. I couldn’t help feeling like this small gift I’d chosen for his daughter meant something. And that maybe I liked that it meant something. Nurrgh. I needed some alone time in the shower just to examine all this.

I was not prepared for all these feelings.

He set my gift on top of the signed books and murmured, “I’ll give it to her. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Mia. None of this is.”

My stomach dropped. “Theo, we both agreed. This is temporary. Today only. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, right.” He shook his head, swore under his breath, then met my eyes. “Come home with me.”

I opened my mouth, surprised, and my immediate reaction was to ask if we could go back to my place instead. But something about the way he stared at me, the intensity of it, made me change my mind.

Theo’s Apartment

Theo came out of his bathroom dressed in basketball shorts and a soft tee, and I just… ugh. What a horribly wonderful thing to see after tripping into his spacious, dual-level apartment.

I was still quietly freaking out about seeing Kira’s backpack in the hallway when Theo led me through his home.

His aesthetic reminded me of his office in South Bronx, which made sense, I guess, since he owned and managed the practice. It was bright and airy, but without a feminine slant to it.

I almost thought his space also had no personality to it, but after he introduced me to the deep cushions of his oversized sofa–which sat in front of his sixty-inch, wall-mounted flatscreen–I got to see his study, and cripes, that was full of nothing but personality.

Rows and rows of Dungeons & Dragons–or so I was told–iconic statue replicas sat on shelves amid posters of musicians from the eighties. His collection seemed to point their attention at Theo’s sturdy oak desk, which, of course, he built himself.

The lacquered wood was beautiful, and when he showed me the other rooms in his apartment, including Kira’s, I could make out more of his handiwork. He really was the kind of father who built his daughter’s bed.

And for some reason, knowing it wasn’t enough. Seeing it for myself, seeing where they lived–that was what made it real for me.

“You’re a father,” I said lamely.

He gave me a funny look. “Yeah. I’ve been one for almost eighteen years.”

I waved a hand at Kira’s room as he led me down the hallway. “I know, but I didn’t really know.”

He seemed to understand something was wrong then. He put both hands on my arms and looked into my face. “Hey, right now, it’s just you and me.”

I shook my head. “No, Theo. It’s not about you and me. Isn’t that the point?”

I pushed his hands away and walked around him. My signed books were resting on his six-seat dining table, and I snatched them up on my way to the front door.

“Woah, hey. Mia, wait. If this makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to stay here.”

I pulled my bag over my shoulder, straightening the twisted strap. “I think this is where we should call it. I think I’m done now.”

I turned to go, but made the mistake of looking up. My eyes snagged on his gorgeous, tortured face.

Theo had one hand on his hip, the other rubbing across his chin.

“You’re… done?”

I could hear the two words he didn’t say–with me–as if he’d said them anyway.

I hugged my arms around myself. I should just go. Coming here was a mistake. I knew it the moment I set foot inside. Whatever spell Theo and I had wrapped around ourselves at my apartment died the second I tripped over Kira’s backpack.

“I have to be. We spent the whole weekend together. And I can’t do… that with you in the same place your daughter sleeps.”