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If Lindy found out… gah, if Bridge found out about me and Theo, then I was screwed.
Literally, by Theo himself, but figuratively because they couldn’t know.
Why? Because what was I going to say? I was casually and thoroughly sexing it up with Mav’s brother? That I was using him for his dick?
I couldn’t tell them that Theo didn’t want more. I wouldn’t put them in the middle if he wasn’t interested in me for anythingbutsex. Clearly, I wasn’t worthy of a relationship. Why would I be? I’d been told all my life I wasn’t enough, that I’d never be enough. Without words, Theo proved that.
Didn’t that fudging suck?
40
THEO
I pickedup my phone and sent Mallory a text.
I have something for you.
Your dick?
No.
No?
Well, yes. You can always have my dick. But something else.
What is it?
Be there in an hour.
I couldn’t wait to see Mallory’s face when she saw her present. I’d barely kept it a secret the day before when we were at Mav’s for lunch. But the paperwork hadn’t been signed. Now it was, with a lot of extra cash for the county clerk to push the deed through on the weekend.
Between what she told me about her mom being difficult and having to work shifts at her brother’s bar even after her teaching job to save, I wanted to make it easy for her. To take care of her. To take on her troubles and make them go away. Whenever she talked about the little house, she lit up.
So when I took her hand and led her to my car, then drove away from Lindy’s house, she was confused. “What is it?” she asked.
I laughed. I hadn’t done that enough and it seemed Mallory was pulling them from me. Verna and Jeff, even Mac were all becoming good friends and colleagues, but Mallory… well, she was special.
I had no idea what that even meant.
I slowed in front of the house, then stopped at the curb, eager to share my excitement.
Mallory looked to me, then Mrs. Jonsdottir’s place. No, Mallory’s.
“Theo, I… what are we doing here?”
“This. This is what I have for you.” I turned off the car, climbed out and came around to open her door, but she was already climbing out.
“What?” she asked when we were on the sidewalk.
“Your house,” I said, pointing to the little white home. Wasn’t it obvious?
I pulled the keys from my coat pocket. “I got you your house.”
She stared at the keys, then me.
“You… you got me… my house?”
I took her hand, led her up the shoveled walk. I’d made her speechless, which was probably a first. “Mrs. Jonsdottir was easily swayed with a cash payment. I even offered movers to pack her up and she flew on the James Corp jet this morning to her daughter’s in Texas.”
