Chapter Ten

In the end, Lexie didn't see Theo properly again until the following evening. She'd gone to bed early the night before, tired after having a drink with Lucy in the bar. Even though he'd also been at the crêpe-making class, she'd been distracted by the actual activity of making said crêpes, getting covered in flour in the process, and although he'd glanced her way a few times, she hadn't actually managed to advance the conversation at all. But maybe that was for the best. She needed to think about how to play it all, what to say. There was no point getting into a stalemate—and surely he couldn't actually just refuse to sell the company? It would have to be a joint decision, as per the contract. Which was what she kept repeating to herself as she headed downstairs to the hotel lobby, ready to meet the group for the evening carnival celebration.

Nearly everyone was down in reception, coats already done up as they waited for the last stragglers. Mike and Theo were standing a bit apart, talking in low voices, Theo's mouth pressed into a serious, considering line. Lexie bit her lip, wondering whether to join them or go and make small talk, but Mike saw her, broke off the conversation, and smiled, beckoning her over.

"How were the pancakes?" he asked as she approached.

"A lot of fun," Lexie said, smiling at him and acknowledging Theo with barely a glance.

"You missed the daytime parade," Mike said. "We went to see it the day before you got here. It was fabulous, acrobats and everything. But the nighttime extravaganza is the highlight, wouldn't you say, Theo?"

"Sure."

"Such a high recommendation—don't contain your excitement just for me."

He met her gaze. "Trust me, it's not my excitement I struggle to contain around you." She swore there was a challenge in the way he looked at her right now, and she only tore her gaze away when Mike spoke again.

"I'm so sorry, Lexie," Mike continued, ignoring the tension, "but I can't join you this evening. I would have loved to spend some more time getting to know you, but I really must catch up on some things."

"Oh, OK." She wondered if Ange was somehow behind this.

"But Theo can hold the fort, I'm sure. Ah, there's the last two," Mike said, and Lexie turned to see Cynthia, the woman who'd been flirting with Theo yesterday, along with her husband, coming into the lobby. "I'll leave you to it, then. And don't you two go sniping at each other all evening—we have a professional reputation to uphold." He gave Lexie a wink, as if to make it playful, but she still cringed at the condescending tone and next to her, Theo's jaw clenched. It was the only sign of annoyance he gave, though, before promising to take care of everyone.

Theo led the group out of the hotel and into the town. The light was fading, the sky pink above them, making the whole place glow a dusky orange. Somewhere in the distance, Lexie could hear drums starting up, and though the town generally had a peaceful feel, there was a sense of anticipation in the air, with tourists all heading toward the beach road. Despite herself, Lexie felt excitement hum through her, the drums making her heart pick up speed.

She stayed at the front of the group with Theo. She wanted to peel off, maybe find Lucy, but was too aware of the fact that everyone probably thought she was an insider at R&L, and so would expect her to be taking charge, with Theo. Or maybe an insider would go mingle? She wasn't really sure.

They passed the Biovès Gardens, the citrus sculptures all lit up, adding a whole new feel to the place. "Do you know," Lexie mused, "I was half expecting us to be set to work building a sculpture of our own?"

She said it more to herself, but Theo answered anyway. "What, like a weird team-building exercise?"

"No, like, I don't know, create your own mini lemon sculpture to take home or whatever."

"Where would you get the lemons from?"

She let out an impatient sigh. "I don't know, Theo. From the lemon shop? I mean"—she gestured at the enormous lemon sculptures—"I'm pretty sure lemons could be found."

Theo's brow furrowed. "Would you get someone to teach everyone how to do it, or just hand out the lemons?"

"Jeez, you aren't half making it difficult. It was just a random thought—remind me to censor those when I'm around you."

He glanced at her. "It's not a terrible idea."

"You don't need to sound so surprised—not all my ideas are inherently terrible." Behind them, she could hear the rest of the group chattering away as they got to the street where the parade would take place. Other tourists and locals were already there, waiting for the parade to begin. The drums grew louder.

He raised his eyebrows. "No sniping at each other, remember?"

"I'm not sniping. This is called talking. It's where one person says something, then the other person says something back."

"Oh, is that what we're doing? This is your version of talking, is it?"

Lexie cocked her head. "Why, what's your version? Because if you've figured out another way to talk that no one else has cottoned on to by now, I'm pretty sure you're the circus freak, not me."

He let out a low laugh, and she felt her own lips tug in response despite herself. Felt an unwelcome prickle along her skin, at the sound of that laugh. Don't go there, Lexie.

They'd reached the Promenade du Soleil now, just by the seafront where the parade would take place, and the rest of the group were craning their necks to look past the other tourists, wanting to get the first look at the giant lemon floats that were now being lit up.

"It's not a bad idea," Theo repeated quietly. "The lemon sculpture. I mean, I don't think people would be able to take them back as a souvenir or anything, but maybe it could be an activity, for those who wanted to. Maybe there's a local artist we could work with, who might be able to teach a class or something."

His tone had turned musing, like he was already thinking through the logistics—and Lexie wasn't sure what to say to that. It had been an offhand comment—and he was taking it seriously.

Luckily, Lucy came up at that moment. "Is it weird that I feel excited?" she asked. "Like a child on Christmas morning or something."

Lexie laughed. "I think it's the drums."

"Yeah. Impossible not to get excited when drums are involved."

Lexie felt it too, could hear the laughter in the air around them, children sitting on the shoulders of parents, people chatting and pointing around them. It wasn't a huge space, but instead of feeling overly crowded it felt intimate, like they were all in for a shared experience—locals and tourists alike. See the world through celebration. For the first time, Lexie thought she understood the slogan of the company.

Night had fallen now, the pink sky giving way to blue-black—maybe that added to the whole thing, like they were all sharing in some nighttime secret. And then she caught sight of the floats, making their way down the street toward them. A huge horse came first, rearing up as if it were jumping something, a rider made of lemons sitting on top. It was lit up, and the lights shifted as the float made its way toward them, changing color from the natural bright orange and lemon to an eclectic mix across the whole spectrum. From atop the floats, people threw out confetti, and Lexie, laughing as some landed in her hair, couldn't help waving back.

There were more floats—a huge tiger, a rowboat complete with oars, a giant snail. She wasn't quite sure how it was all Olympic-themed, but they were brilliant, each a complete work of art, and the lights added a magical feel to each one. Between the floats were street artists, jugglers who threw lit skittles in the air, women and men in elaborate costumes who performed acrobatics as they walked, their sequins catching the light and glittering as they moved. Even the drums were lit up, the drummers creating a pulse of energy that was impossible not to get lost in. For a while, Lexie was content to watch, to soak up the atmosphere. To marvel at the celebration of a fruit, to think of how cool it was that this tradition had kept going all these years. This was why she loved the way she lived—because she got to experience these things. And apparently, her dad had loved experiencing things like this too—why else would he have started this business?

The parade made its way around the short circuit twice, before the lights were switched off, amid whines and cheers. And then there was bustling as everyone shifted position. "Fireworks now," Theo explained to the group at large. It turned out he'd reserved seats for them all in the grandstand, leading them up to a higher viewing point. Everyone clambered up into their seats as a couple of early, teaser fireworks were let off. In the rush to get to the grandstand in time, Lexie ended up sitting between Theo and Lucy. Her leg brushed his as they sat and even though he was wearing jeans and she leggings, she still felt the heat of his thigh against hers for a brief moment before he shifted away. She watched the fireworks display get more and more extravagant, purples and reds and blues sparking up the night sky. The cool air bit into her and she shoved her hands into her coat pockets.

She used to go and watch fireworks displays like this as a kid. She remembered a fireworks display in Frome, where she grew up. She, her dad, and her mum had all gone together. She didn't know how old she had been—but it was before he'd left. She'd been clutching a toffee apple, munching her way through the outside, ignoring the healthy apple goodness in the center. She hadn't been paying attention, and one moment her mum and dad had been there, and then she'd looked up and they were gone. She'd panicked, dropped her toffee apple. It had felt like there were strangers everywhere, like she was lost, like her parents might not find her. It had only been a minute or two, her mum had told her afterward. A minute or two before they'd found her, sobbing. Her dad had hoisted her up, carrying her for the rest of the evening. He'd managed to cheer her up, had bought her another toffee apple and made a joke of the whole thing. It was a silly memory—what was another toffee apple in the grand scheme of things?—but it had stuck with her, nonetheless.

As had a different memory, one from a few years later. One where he'd promised to come and take Lexie to a fireworks display, just the two of them, but had never shown up. Her mum had taken her instead, and Lexie kept making her check her phone because she was worried that her dad might try to call, because there had to be a reason he was late, and he wouldn't know where to find them. But he never did.

"I don't like fireworks." She said it quietly, like a secret. She wasn't even sure who she was speaking to—but Lucy was leaning forward and had her phone out to take photos, and apparently hadn't heard. Theo, however, looked her way. She felt his gaze on the side of her face, but she kept looking straight out at the display as she spoke again. "They're pretty and fun and all that, but…They make me think of my dad." Stupid, to say it out loud, to admit that vulnerability—especially when Theo clearly thought her dad had been someone to look up to. She felt something bubbling in her stomach, like it was trying to get out. She swallowed, tried to shove the emotion back inside—and forced the memory back too. The noise of the fireworks was a relief. It meant she didn't have to explain—and meant Theo wasn't required to talk, even though he'd heard.

He didn't ask. Didn't question how or why fireworks made her think of her dad, why that made her sad. Instead he said, just as quietly, "I don't like fireworks either." She risked a glance at him, but now it was him staring straight ahead. "I pretend to, for the clients. And they're pretty and fun and all that…" She let out a huff of laughter at him using her words. An admission for an admission—was that what this was? "My parents never took me to see them," he continued. "As a kid, I mean. They weren't really big into those kinds of ‘overly chaotic and hyperactive celebrations.'?"

What had he been like as a kid? she wondered. "Are fireworks inherently chaotic?"

"Well, I suppose they're a bit loud. And some people think that's chaotic, don't they? I think my dad's point was that children go all mental, hopped up on sugar and cider or whatever it is you have when you watch them and then you have to all squish together to watch in that chaos."

"Yes, I've heard kids are all into the cider these days."

Theo snorted quietly. "They said fireworks are bad for the environment," he continued after a beat. "My parents, I mean. I was annoyed for a while, thought they were doing it out of some weird principle or to keep me from doing something I wanted to do. Classic egotistical seven-year-old. But then I realized they're right—they are really bad for the environment. The birds get upset and the wildlife panic, and for what? So we can enjoy a pretty show."

Lexie watched the last few fireworks, hearing the laughter, the gasps of delight. "You're right," she said eventually.

"I am?"

"It's as much of a shock to me as it is to you, trust me." She glanced at him, saw his lips twitch.

"Kind of takes the romance out of the moment, doesn't it?"

When the show was over, they all stood up and made their way out of the grandstand. At the bottom, Lucy turned to smile at Theo and Lexie. "I'm guessing that's the main event done with?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Theo said. "We'll hang around for a bit in case anyone wants to grab another drink, though, if you're keen?"

Lucy shook her head. "I'm loving this, but I want to take it easy."

"I can walk you—" Theo began.

"No, don't be silly. I actually want to take a beat, walk on my own. Is that OK? It's on my list of things I want to accomplish this holiday—all part of being braver."

"You got it. But if you need us, you've got our numbers."

"I do." Lucy squeezed Lexie's arm as she passed. "What you and your dad have built is so cool. I know some people might just think it's a silly little holiday, but it's given me the courage to think I can do things on my own again. Maybe on my own for real next time."

With Theo right there in hearing distance, Lexie thought he was going to grumble about the you and your dad, but he said nothing. Still, it made Lexie feel funny. It was like a different version of their father-daughter relationship was being posited—one they could have had, if he hadn't left. But obviously she couldn't say that to Lucy, so she just smiled her thanks and said she'd see her in the morning.

Theo and Lexie were quiet for a moment after Lucy left. The crowd was dispersing, but most of their group were lingering.

"Lexie?"

She looked up at Theo.

"I'm sorry about your dad. I should have said that a lot sooner."

She felt the lump in her throat rise back up. She wasn't sure what to do with the apology, wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean. She remembered what he'd said during the solicitor's meeting. You never bothered to answer your dad's calls—and it's not like you're ever actually around. Could hear the echo of his voice when she'd overheard him talking to Ange in the office. She clearly didn't care about her dad, so why would she care about the company?

But she remembered too what Ange had said. Let's just say I think he's a little lost, without Richard. Thought of the way he'd looked, when he'd talked about Richard earlier. Your dad was good at it too—chatting to people, making them feel welcome right away. Was that why Theo was so set on continuing what her dad had started? Was it because her dad had made him feel "welcome"?

"I'm sorry too," she found herself saying. "If he meant something to you. I mean, I don't know what the deal was, really, and I'm still totally confused about why he left us both in this mess and why he thought it was appropriate to—"

He coughed, as if pointing out she'd slipped into babble mode, and she flushed. "Well. You know what I mean."

"Rarely, if ever." His voice was dry—but it wasn't mean.

She blew out a breath. "I'm just sorry. I know you lost him too." The words were out before she could think better of them, and she felt the way his gaze lingered on her face, like he was taking in the words. Too. You lost him too, she'd said. Like they were in the same situation, like there was some sort of grief to be shared.

Theo looked like he might have been about to say something, but then a few other tourists jolted past them, buffeting Lexie out of the way. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her to one side. It was a quick, efficient move. There was no twining of fingers or sensual caress of his thumb over her skin. So why did it make her pulse jump? Why did that point of contact crackle with electricity?

Theo looked up, his gaze snagging on hers. For a second something flickered there, in those firelike eyes of his. Then he let go, looking around to locate the rest of the group. She brought her other hand up to rub the place his fingers had been, trying to soothe away that crackling under her skin—but the feeling lingered, even after he'd moved away.