Page 82 of A Winter Wish

Chapter Thirty-one

In the first few weeks after Lexie left, Theo had been sure she’d come back. Even a month later, he’d still felt convinced that he’d come downstairs to the office one day and she’d be there, ready to dig into him, maybe ignore him for a bit—but he figured, once she was back, he’d be able to talk to her, win her over again. But by the time December rolled around, he’d given up hoping. He’d taken to working upstairs in the flat more—he’d always done it a bit, but he used to like being downstairs for variety. Now it seemed a bit too quiet in the main office without Lexie. Not the actual volume—Harry was good for keeping that up—but the lack of her presence pressed in on all sides, like a constant awareness.

There was a sharp rap at the flat door, then Ange opened it, poked her head in. “I don’t suppose you know if Mike’s joining us for the team meeting, do you?” she asked by way of greeting. “He spoke to me this morning but is now ignoring my calls.”

Theo straightened up from where he was hunched over his laptop on the sofa. “I don’t think so.” Mike had sort of checked out recently and Theo wasn’t totally sure how long he was going to stick around, now that it was clear he wouldn’t be able to rework the contract. He thought Mike had wanted to get back a share out of pride, more than anything else—it had stung, that Richard had left it to Lexie and Theo, when Mike had given him the start-up loan. But it wasn’t like Richard had done it to hurt Mike—it was just that Mike’s interest in the company blew hot and cold.

Ange gave him a look. “So it’s just you, me, and Harry?”

Theo rolled his tight shoulders. Really, he should stop working on the sofa. “Looks like.”

Ange seemed to be about to say something, then stopped herself, nodded, and left Theo alone.

Theo glanced out the mullion windows to the city outside. There was a pale winter glow, and even though it wasn’t yet four p.m. darkness was already beginning to settle in.

He moved his laptop onto the coffee table and stood, heading for the adjoining kitchen. He suspected Lexie was unlikely to be sitting quietly on her own right now, trying not to feel sorry for herself. Because yes, maybe it made him a loser, but he’d done the classic social media stalking—and hadn’t felt any better as a result when he’d seen a photo of Lexie on Instagram, snow-covered mountains as her backdrop, with some blond guy’s arm around her. He’d felt bitterness at the sight—enough to stop him texting her again. So the last message exchange with her in his phone was still from the day after she’d left.

Come back. Please.

And her words back, several hours later. A message that had made him leap for his phone when he saw her name, only to feel crushing disappointment.

I can’t. I’m sorry.

He understood why she’d left. He knew what it must have looked like, and he knew, didn’t he, that she didn’t trust all that easily and God, why hadn’t he thought to pick up the damn contract and take it with him, shove it back into Mike’s hands on his way out? He could have avoided all of this. Then again, maybe she’d still have left—maybe something else would have triggered it.

He clicked the kettle on to boil with more force than was strictly necessary. He’d fucked up. He should never have even entertained the idea of cutting her out—it was wrong on so many levels. But he hadn’t considered it, not really. It had been a conversation when he was angry and lost after losing Richard, right at the beginning of all this—one that Mike had taken too far.

He felt a surge of anger at Lexie then. She shouldn’t have left. She should have understood that he’d never have done that to her—not now. But a part of him knew—she did believe him. He’d seen it. He’d had the proof in front of him, and she’d barely blinked. And yet, she’d still left. The anger turned inward, so that it felt like his insides were too hot.

He tried to take a calming breath as he poured hot water into a mug and was distracted by his phone lighting up with a message from his mum. He’d taken a leap, asked if she wanted to come out for a few days this December, told her he could show her around Bath.

We’d love to, Theo—but your dad can’t get away from work. You’re very welcome here, of course. We’re having a bit of a soiree on Christmas Eve—Cally and her husband will be here!

It made him huff out a breath of laughter—at the predictability of it. He tapped out a reply, saying he would likely still be abroad at that point, but he’d try to come over in January. It might be his last Christmas with the company, after all, so he wanted to be working—and he’d suggested he take Harry along on the Belgium trip, to show him the ropes. If Harry did well, Theo could even leave him there to handle the last few days by himself—it was the type of thing Richard had done for Theo in the early years, and now Theo felt like he wanted to pass that on. Harry had stuck with the company, after all, and even if it did sell, there was a chance he’d be kept on.

He put his phone away. He was trying. After seeing Lexie grapple with her relationship with Richard, and what they hadn’t had the chance to put right, he was trying to work toward acceptance with his parents. His dad would always be a bit detached; his mum might always be wishing for something better. She’d spent a fair amount of time trying to change him and hadn’t been able to—but he couldn’t change her, either. No one was perfect, as Ange was fond of reminding everyone on a regular basis.

He wondered if Lexie was still trying to come to terms with losing her dad, while she was living it up in the Alps. He still thought of Richard on a regular basis. It was impossible not to—the number of times they’d sat up in the flat together, having a coffee in the morning or a drink in the evening. He wasn’t really sure how they’d gone from colleagues to friends. He still felt he owed Richard so much—he was the first person to believe in him, to mentor him, to make him feel like he could stick at something.

He blew on his tea, scowling at himself. Richard hadn’t told anyone how bad the cancer was. Theo should have pushed; he should have been there—shouldn’t have taken Richard’s brush-offs at face value when it was clear he was getting sicker. He’d never really understood why Richard kept it so quiet—though he’d wondered, after getting to know Lexie, if it was all tied up in guilt. Guilt making him think he didn’t deserve to be taken care of, at the end? Or maybe being unable to face up to what was happening, not wanting to admit the end was so near before he’d had a chance to fix things? It was all guesswork, though—there were no neat answers.

He remembered Richard taking him along on his first company trip, even though he’d made a big thing about not wanting to go. It had been the Christmas trip, in Bruges—the same place he was going back to in a few days, when he’d be taking Harry on his first company trip, like a weird sort of circle. It was that trip that had been the turning point for Theo. It had been something silly—Richard had said he’d forgotten something, back at the hotel, when they’d been on the way to the evening light show. In hindsight, it was obviously a lie, but at the time Theo had panicked at being left in charge, at the expectant looks on the clients’ faces. But because he’d been left in charge, he’d had to get on with it. Most people wouldn’t think much of that, maybe—all he’d had to do was get everyone from A to B, be polite, make small talk—but for him, it had felt like a really big deal.

That small moment, being trusted like that, had caused something to shift. He’d stopped hiding behind a feigned lack of interest, had decided to actually try. And by trying, he’d found something he was actually good at.

He’d asked Richard, on the plane home, why he’d pushed Theo into taking the shot.

Richard had looked at him out of eyes that were a little lighter than Lexie’s. All this moving around you do…It reminds me of someone else I know, that’s all.

Theo had thought, for a while, that Richard had meant himself—and only this year had he begun to figure out that maybe he’d meant Lexie.

Richard had given him a look out of the corner of his eye as they’d fastened their seatbelts. And I hope this doesn’t sound too condescending, but I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. He’d sighed, and Theo had glanced at him, this conversation moving onto different ground than he was used to. I can’t change the past—but maybe I can help you change your future, a bit.

And he had, hadn’t he? Richard had changed Theo’s future, and he’d never gotten a chance to thank him for it.

He’d gotten a note from Richard, after he’d died. The solicitor had given it to him, right before the meeting about Richard’s will. He’d had time to read it just before Lexie had walked in—while he was still grappling with the information that Richard had left half the company to him. It would have been nice if Richard had given him a heads-up, but for reasons best known to himself, he’d decided to keep his plans secret. The note had been short, to the point. Sorry for not telling you, but I had my reasons, that kind of thing. He’d explained that he’d been thinking of Lexie when he set the company up, that it seemed only right to find a way to share it with her. And that Theo deserved the company too, for sticking with it, for putting so much work into it over the years and not walking away. Like Richard knew that’s what Theo was most proud of in his life.

Richard had asked Theo to look out for Lexie, in his final note. Had said there was a chance they might clash, but that disagreement is sometimes good—and that he hoped he was right in thinking they might find common ground, too. And Theo thought Richard must have known—or at least guessed—that Theo and Lexie would complement each other once they stopped arguing. That Lexie was naturally good at the people side of things, and Theo had figured out the business side.