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I shunt out a laugh. “Thanks. I guess?”
I grab it from his hand, and he groans. “Now, let me finish.” He cranes his neck to look at the photo again. “He’s not bad looking. But you. You’re . . . radiant.”
He’s called me enchanting before. And now I’m radiant?
I shake my head and try to put the photo back in the file, but he stops me.
“No,” he says, gently drawing up the photo again. The edges of our hands are touching as we both hold it. His gaze goes from it to me, drinking me in. It’s one of curiosity, of yearning. “Do you not see it?” he asks quietly. “Do you not know how beautiful you are?”
I could chalk it up to Theo being Theo, but the slash of cold, hard truth that he sees me, that he’s closely aware of me? That’s what skewers me. He’s genuinely curious, if I understand what he sees—what he thinks.
I don’t know how to answer his question—it feels impossible to know how.
“I also think this Rob guy doesn’t appreciate you,” he says. A nerve under his eye twitches.
I find my voice. “Why do you say that?” I should tell him it doesn’t matter since Rob and I broke up.
“Because if I were him?” His laugh is a grunt in his throat. “I’d never go to Arkansas and be gone for years. I’d have had a hard time leaving you for a single day.”
I want to say something in response to his gaze that’s equal parts territorial, kind, and with a hint of disgust at Rob. I shove the photo back in the folder and quickly slide it back into place in the drawer. “So anyway, now you know what’s in there.”
I want to tell him we broke up, but I’ve only told Camilla and Grandpa, asking them to keep it to themselves. The truth of everything clogs my throat, and I swallow hard.
As if Theo’s words haven’t done enough, seeing that photo of Rob and me disarms me. When I look at that photo? It’s like I’m looking at two complete strangers.
My stomach turns. I don’t even remember how I felt when that photo was taken. I don’t remember having strong feelings for him.
It’s all too uncomfortable, especially with Theo here, and his words curving throughout all the pockets of my mind. There are pockets of the past, of my decisions—right and wrong. Pockets of what I want. Pockets of what I can’t have.
And somehow, Theo’s mixed up in all of them.
I clear my throat. “I better go get the rest of my boxes. My grandfather’s flying in late tonight and I need to get his room ready.”
“Wait. Wait just a second.” Theo’s got a light in his eyes that speaks of mischief.
He walks over to the wall across the room and knocks on it a couple of times. Then, he turns to the narrow door and opens it. He steps onto my balcony.
“Nice view of the backsides of old buildings, eh?” I joke as I join him, the bitter cold of Colorado air biting into me already. My heart has only started to slow back to a normal rate since he told me I’m beautiful and that he couldn’t stand leaving me for a single day.
That is, if he’d been in Rob’s position.
Now those pockets in my head are filling up, stuffed with so many amendments and agreements. So many attempts to fill in the blanks and answer all the questions.
“Wait right here,” he says, backing away. He keeps his eyes trained on me, like I’m a wild animal and might bolt at any minute. When I can’t help the smallest of smiles, he turns and hurries back through the door and out of my bedroom.
“Okay,” I say under my foggy breath as I wrap my arms around me. Delicate and soft snowflakes begin to fall again in the ether around me.
Only a minute later, I hear the scrape of a door opening. He steps onto the balcony next to me—only six feet away.
“Hey, hey neighbor,” he says with a laugh, the set of his brow bringing a triumphant look to his face.
“That’s your office?” I point to his balcony door.
“That’s right, dahling,” he says in a crisp British accent.
Seriously? Now I’m sharing a wall—and a view—with Theo Carter?
Chapter 13
