Page 77 of The Scent of Happiness

“Why did you draw out my case? Why did you want to keep us in limbo forever? I’m such an idiot. I let you get away with it. I let you sneak in and out of my place any time you wanted a booty call. I trusted you, and all along, you were just using me.”

“Ha.” The syllable gushed out of Theo. He pointed at her chest like he was thrusting a dagger at her heart. “You were using me. You could have settled with Dixie on day one. You could have solved your little problem with a few thousand dollars and had me all for yourself. But I wasn’t worth that to you.”

Brooke stamped her foot on the cold ground. She tore off Theo’s jacket and threw it at him. “This. Isn’t. About. You.”

“No, it’s about you,” Theo snarled as he caught the coat. “It’s all about you, and your problems, and what you want. There was nothing stopping you from settling with Dixie except your own stubbornness.”

“And the fact that I’m innocent.”

“I told you this before, and I’m telling you for the last time. I don’t care.”

All the heat left Brooke’s body at once. The hot anger turned to ice and it didn’t matter that she was outdoors wearing hardly anything. She could have been in a volcano and still felt the numbness of defeat. She’d been lying to herself, thinking that she and Theo had something special. But it was hollow, the emptiness of cold logic, where emotion didn’t matter, people didn’t matter, and love didn’t matter.

“No, you don’t care,” Brooke said, her voice breaking as her throat closed and tears filled her eyes. “You don’t care about doing the right thing, you don’t care about me, and you certainly don’t care about us.”

Theo wrung his jacket in his hands. “Brooke—”

“No.” She held out her hands. “You know what? It’s fine. It’s completely fine. I’m glad you don’t care about me, because right now, I don’t give a cold-pressed, lavender-scented, hand-crafted fuck about you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Friday morning, Theo parked his Impala in the lot at Walker Blue and sat staring at the front door. The early-winter days were getting shorter, the morning light dimmer, and each day, it took him a little bit longer to make himself go into the building. Once he did, there was plenty of work to keep his mind occupied, but that initial push of getting out of the car, crossing the threshold, and putting on his work face was getting harder and harder.

As he heaved himself out of the driver’s seat and slammed the car door, his hand strayed to his pocket and gripped his phone. He snatched it back. Don’t look. There’s nothing there for you.

The first few days, he’d checked it obsessively, hoping that Brooke would return at least one of his messages. Now, six days later, he’d all but given up.

He sat at his desk with his first cup of coffee and sorted his email. His heart leapt at the name “Nesbitt” but sank just as quickly because the email wasn’t from Brooke, but from her dad.

Ron Nesbitt wanted him to know that Dixie Dawson had dropped her lawsuit, as promised. Theo checked the court database to confirm it. It was true. It was over.

He sipped the too-hot coffee, letting the bitter brew scald its way down his throat. He’d never speak to Brooke again, never be in the same room with her if he could help it. If they found themselves at the same church or social gathering, he would maintain a professional distance, polite but unemotional.

It was better this way. Making emotional decisions never worked out. The first time he’d tried to use his heart instead of his head, and what happened? Nothing good. If Queen B wanted to live her life being led by her nose, that was her problem. He was smarter than that.

Only one thing left to do. Let Stephen know. The “I told you so” wouldn’t even hurt because it was true.

Theo stood and closed his laptop with a decisive slap. He picked up his coffee and walked down the hall, arriving at Stephen’s office just in time to see Mr. Blue leaving it.

“Ah, Chambers. Finally.”

“Huh?” It was only eight thirty. He wasn’t late for work. Was there a meeting that didn’t get on his calendar? “Good morning, Mr. Blue.”

“Right. Chambers.” Mr. Blue’s tone was short. His feet and shoulders pointed down the hall, as if he’d already dismissed Theo. “You’re young, and you have issues. I sympathize, but you need to address them on your own. We don’t do that here.”

“Do…do what?”

“We’re not equipped to give you help for your emotional breakdown leading to your appalling lack of judgement. I feel sorry for you. I sincerely do. Please know that.”

“My what?” Theo had never had an emotional outburst at work. He wouldn’t dare. His coffee cup quivered in his hand. Mr. Blue was furious, but why? What had Theo done? He glanced at Stephen’s closed door. What had Stephen done?

Mr. Blue’s fingers twitched, as if he were flicking away a bug. “You need to talk to someone?”

“I don’t—I don’t know?”

“I like you, Chambers. And the partnership board is a few years off. That should be enough time for you to get yourself back into shape. That would be a good thing, for this firm and for you.”

“Wait, Mr. Blue,” Theo said to his boss’ retreating back. He stumbled down the hall, trying not to spill his coffee. “I don’t understand. Have I done something—do you think I’m—”