Chapter Thirty-One

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.

He should have told Lexie that, Theo thought, with a rush of frustration. He should have told her that, and so much more.

He wasn't sure what Richard would think about Theo falling for his daughter. And he had fallen for her, hadn't he? He hadn't meant to, but somewhere along the line it had become impossible not to. He'd expected more of a fight, before she walked out. Given how much she'd protested about being kept out of the loop earlier in the year, he'd expected her to push back. But no. Instead she'd cut herself off completely.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it was better that she'd left before he could make an even bigger mess of things. Before he let her down, sooner or later, like he'd let his parents down. And she'd been let down enough already.

There was a cursory knock before Ange came in, Harry following behind, Christmas tie swinging. Ange gestured for Harry to sit down around the coffee table, waited for Theo to join them, then leveled a look at Theo. "I'm going to jump right to it," she said. "Mike called me earlier this morning to say he's not going to go to Vienna."

Theo was in the middle of taking a sip of tea and choked. Harry jumped up, went to sit next to Theo so that he could thump him on the back.

"What?" Theo demanded.

Mike had made a huge bloody drama about the whole thing—insisting he go to Vienna, saying that Theo had cut him out of Madrid, that he wasn't letting the same thing happen again. It had been right after Theo had made it clear he had no interest in trying to find a legal argument to get Lexie out of the shares and Mike in—and he'd felt sure Mike was putting up a fight just to spite him. But Lexie had just left, and he hadn't had it in him to argue. Mike was supposed to be going out for the first couple of days, get everyone settled, organize the Secret Santa, and meet the local woman on the ground in Vienna that they'd hired to see people through the traditions and Christmas Day itself. Theo had been out to meet her a few weeks ago, and felt confident she would be brilliant, but it was their first time doing this trip, so they needed someone there for appearances' sake and to check that things went off without a hitch. Mike knew that. Which again, lent credence to the idea that this was all out of spite.

Harry put his hand up, bouncing on the edge of his seat. "I could go."

"No, you can't," Theo and Ange said together.

"Besides, you're going to Belgium with Theo, aren't you?" Ange said, with an encouraging smile.

Theo shook his head at Ange. "You need me to go to Vienna." He frowned. " We need me to go, I mean." He sighed. "Sorry, Harry, but I reckon we can deal with Belgium by using the people we have on the ground there instead, and—"

"There's no need for that," Ange said briskly.

She sat back against the armchair as Theo looked at her.

"I think we ought to ask Lexie to go along."

Theo swallowed his tea too quickly, and just about managed to stop choking again.

"She's already in Austria," Ange continued, with that way she had sometimes, no-nonsense, no room for argument, "and she'd only need to go for a couple of days—you said yourself our woman there is brilliant. And Lexie is still, technically, a partner in this company, isn't she?"

Theo hesitated before saying, "Yeah. I guess."

They'd had no conversation about it. He hadn't tried, in all honestly. He knew he was avoiding bringing it up, in case it came to a conclusion he didn't want.

Ange was looking at him expectantly.

"I don't know…" he said slowly. And when she continued to look at him, he sighed. "OK. Fine. She'll probably say no, but fine, we can ask."

And it would give him an excuse, wouldn't it, to get in touch?

She beamed. "Brilliant. Harry and I will wait."

"You want me to do it now ?"

"Of course now. When else?"

Sometimes, Theo thought, it was easier not to argue with Ange. So he got up, took out his phone, and headed for the kitchen, trying to get space from Ange and Harry. He tried not to think too hard about it as he dialed her number. Better this way. He couldn't obsess about what to say. He listened while the phone rang. And rang.

When he hung up, he couldn't resist swearing under his breath, before turning and looking at Ange over the countertop. "No answer," he grunted.

Ange sighed. "You made a bit of a mess of things there, didn't you?" And without waiting for Theo to comment on that, she got out her own phone. "Never mind, I'll talk to her."

And when Lexie answered this time, Theo had to fight hard to control his scowl. What had she thought he was ringing her about, for Christ's sake? What conversation was she so desperate to avoid?

He could only hear Ange's side of the conversation and felt a stab of jealousy, because Ange got to hear the sound of Lexie's voice, and he didn't. Stupid, he told himself. He needed to get a bloody grip—she clearly wanted nothing to do with him if she was actively avoiding his calls, didn't she? It made him glad he hadn't tried texting her again.

Harry caught Theo's eye and gave him a sympathetic smile— and Theo realized that Harry had probably cottoned on to a bit more than he'd given him credit for.

"Lexie says she'll help," Ange said, as she hung up.

And that, apparently, was that. They proceeded to talk about the logistics, Ange saying she'd work out the flight and hotel and change things into Lexie's name, and Theo letting her steer the conversation, while all the time wondering—why? Why had she agreed to help?

He could go out to Vienna, he thought, his stomach lurching a bit at the idea. Leave Harry in Belgium after a day or two, assuming it all went smoothly. Like with France, all those months ago, he could just show up, and she'd have to deal with it. Though unlike in France, this time he'd know she'd be there—so he could prepare. Could force her to talk to him.

But Ange was giving him a look. "She needs to do this alone," she said, changing topic midflow.

He frowned and she sighed.

"Have a little faith, T-Rex."

And when he said nothing, Ange smiled kindly.

"She still cares, Theo. She wouldn't have said yes if she didn't."

"And yet, she left us."

She left me.

Ange gave him a long look, then stood. "Come on, Harry. I'm sure there are customers waiting who need your attention."

Harry sprang to his feet and headed toward the door.

Ange hung back for a moment, placed a hand on Theo's arm. "You bet against her once."

He remembered how callous he'd been then and winced.

"Maybe, this time, you ought to bet on her."