“Thanks.” I opened the front door. She was right, I should keep it locked.
“Where’s his family from?”
“Connecticut,” I lied. It was surprisingly easy.
“Connecticut!” Her eyes lit up. “What about college? Do you know where he went? Was it somewhere out East? Yale’s in Connecticut. Was it Yale?”
“Bye, Mom.” I practically pushed her out. “Thanks for dropping by.”
“Bye, dear.” She blew her air kisses at me and pulled on her gloves. “I’ll let dad know you might be dating a Yale man. His alma mater—he’ll be thrilled!”
“Night.” I shut the door. I think she was still talking.
When I turned around, Theo was standing in the living room too.
With his coat on.
“Are you leaving?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah. I can’t—this was—” He stopped, his lips pressed together, one leg twitching restlessly. “I have to go.”
“Why?”
“I can’t do this. Sorry.”
“Can’t do what? Look at tiles?”
“No. Date you.”
I stuck my hands on my hips. “I never said we were dating.”
“You mother said it. You didn’t correct her.”
My eyes narrowed. “What was I supposed to say? ‘No, Mom. We’re not dating, I hired him to pretend to be my boyfriend for Elyse’s wedding. Now we’re just fucking and painting cabinets.’ It’s just a word, Theo. It means two people are spending time together, that’s all.”
He struggled for a reply, his entire body jittering with urgency. “What was all that stuff about Yale?” he finally blurted. “And your dad’s a judge? You never told me that.”
“Because it never occurred to me that it would matter! What difference does it make what my father does? You don’t have to date him.”
“There’s that word again,” he accused, his hands curling into fists. “I told you from the start, I don’t date. I don’t date, I don’t do mothers and Christmas Eve dinners, and I sure as hell don’t do judge fathers.”
“I never asked you to! My mother was the one who invited you to Christmas Eve dinner, not me!” I exploded, my arms flailing. This was unbelievable! He was ruining the perfectly nice day we’d just had and treating me like I’d done something wrong. “You know, you’re the one who came here saying you need me. I was fine with one night only.” It was a complete lie, and my ears started to tingle, but I kept going. “What did you even mean by that? Need me for what?”
His jaw was clenched tight, his neck muscles taut. “I was wrong. I don’t need you or anybody else for anything. This was a big fucking mistake.” He stormed past me and out the door.
I was bursting with fury, my blood boiling. He was lying! He was a horrible actor when he wasn’t playing a part, but what good would it do to chase him down and call him out on it? He was so damn stubborn—he’d never admit he was wrong or tell me the truth about why he was so freaked out.
“Fuck you, Theo MacLeod!” I yelled at the door he’d slammed behind him. A moment later, I heard his car start and the engine revving. “I don’t need this in my life! Take your secrets and your lies and your big dick and get out. And stay out!” I finished loudly before turning on my heel and bolting up the steps.
In my bedroom, I threw myself face down on the sheets that still smelled like him, and screamed into the mattress. This was so unfair! I’d played by his rules! When he’d showed up at my door with sad eyes and grasping hands and searching lips, I hadn’t questioned it one bit! I need you, he’d said, his voice raw with emotion. I’d never heard him sound that way. But did I ask why? Did I ask what happened to make him change his mind? Did I lay out a bunch of conditions for sex? No! I’d pulled him in out of the cold and done my best to take away whatever hurt he was feeling. I thought I’d done a pretty damn good job of it, too! I’d never heard a man moan so loud before.
And I hadn’t asked about a next time, either—all I’d done was suggest pancakes. It was Theo who’d offered to help me with the house and take me shopping, Theo who’d said I’m all yours today. Had the appearance of my mother really spooked him that much? Did the word date trigger some sort of instinct to run, like prey flees from a predator? It wasn’t my fault she was excited to meet him. She was only trying to be kind inviting him to dinner. And why the hell did he care what my father did?
I flipped onto my back and stared at the ceiling. If he’d been moody and sullen all day, I might think the panic had been building in him and my mother had caused it to burst. But he hadn’t—he’d been relaxed and happy. Smiling. Laughing. A little sad when he’d talked about his brother, but he hadn’t gone into a funk about it. What was I missing? Where had I gone wrong?
This is bullshit. I didn’t do anything wrong.
Tears slipped from my eyes, making me angrier. I didn’t want to cry over him. I’d known him for less than a week, for God’s sake! Why did I always have to be so damn emotional?
But the loss of him cut deeper than it should have, because when he left, he took more than just himself. He took away hope. He took away possibility. He took away a little piece of me that still believed in the fairy tale.
There were only so many of those pieces left.