23. Theo

23

THEO

Abigail delves her spoon into the mango pannacotta, her chin leans on her other hand. She looks like she should be painted right now.

The dress I bought her fits perfectly. Black with swirling lines of white, tiny straps showing off her shoulders and collarbone.

There's only one problem.

She's been distant all night. Quiet and lacking the excitement I thought she'd have given the new job.

The excitement I accounted for.

Perhaps she's conflicted. Maybe she wants to go to Ireland after all. I mean, she's been planning for it for months now. And her mother lives over there, that was going to be major quality time spent.

I thought a job at the aquarium was what she wanted, though. A job here. For us.

I know I've gotten ahead of myself, factoring myself into her world like this. But every day that has passed, every conversation we have, a feel we are only a second away from rounding the corner into new territory. Into words that can't be unsaid.

I want to round that corner with everything in me. So badly that I've…made choices to get us there. Choices that I am not sure I won't regret someday.

I eye her, waiting for her to lift her gaze.

She does not.

"You're quiet tonight."

"Am I?" she asks, scooping up the panna cotta and slipping it into her mouth, glassy pink lips cocooning the metal.

Averting my gaze so as not excite myself, I reply, "Yes, I thought you'd be…" I settle back into my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "Over the moon."

"I'm sure that's what you wanted."

I tilt my head to the side. "Of course, I want nothing less for you always."

Abigail puts her spoon down with a clatter and folds her hands on the table. She looks me dead in the eye and…says nothing.

Something is wrong.

I shift in my seat, wishing we weren't out in a restaurant surrounded by people.

I chose an expensive, luxurious place where everyone talks in quiet whispers and marvels over the delicacies before them. It's not loud enough for us to disappear into if she's about to initiate a challenging conversation. "Abigail, what's going on?"

"Did you know?"

Three simple words that could mean so many things, yet I know exactly what she's getting at. "Know what, darling?"

I can smooth this over. I know I can.

"The job at the aquarium. Did you have anything to do with it?"

"How could I have anything to do with it?"

Abigail's cheeks sink, and her eyes narrow.

Lying isn't getting me anywhere.

She lifts her thumb. "The university was tipped off about Professor Ridley's misconduct, causing him to get booted from his research position at the aquarium." She sticks out another finger. "Someone gave the aquarium a donation for staffing which opened up a full-time position." Then, a final finger.

Her smoking gun.

" Someone sent over my resume updated with my position on the team in Ireland."

I am quiet, trying to figure out in my head what the best way to go about this conversation.

I hate it when I lie, and I don't want to lie to her. But this is the worst-case scenario. That she'd find out and be embittered to me when all I was trying to do was help, assure that she could stay.

It's what she wanted, isn't it?

"How do you know all of that?"

Abigail drops her hand into her lap. "So, it's true. It was you."

" How do you know all that?" I reiterate.

She picks up her spoon again, takes another spoonful of pannacotta. "My contact there explained the circumstances of the job offer to me."

"You're upset."

Abigail takes the bite of pannacotta, let's me sit in awful anticipation for her response.

"Of course I'm upset."

"I thought you'd be…thrilled."

"I was, until I realized that all of this was a hoax."

I shake my head. "A hoax ? How is it a hoax? You got the job."

"Thanks to your manipulation," she says without lifting her eyes from the dessert.

"This wasn't manipulation, darling, it was–"

"Don't do the ‘darling' thing right now, Theo," she says, her voice steady and calm. Terrifying.

I lick my teeth. "Fine. Abigail. It wasn't manipulation, it was insurance. I wanted to make sure–"

"How long has this plan been playing out, Theo? How long have you had this arranged?"

I will remain calm. Because my intentions are pure. Because I only wanted what was best for her and what's best for Abigail is what's best for us . "A few weeks."

"A few weeks ? That's most of our time together. You mean to tell me you've been scheming behind the scenes while I've been sleeping next to you."

"None of this was scheming, Abigail!" I cry out, then have to recalibrate so as not to raise my voice again. "What that man did to you was wrong. I looked into him. Realized there were claims against him already. All I did was report him. And it was convenient that he worked at the aquarium."

She laughs dryly. "Convenient. What a word."

"It was! Convenient. The rest was just insurance . You said you'd applied for a job, I just had to make sure the circumstances were ideal for you to–"

"All of this is convenient for you , Theo. Ideal for you ."

I gulp back on the frustration I have in failing to communicate what's going through my mind. We can keep this on an even keel, we just have to be purposeful about it. "Don't you want to stay? I thought this is what you wanted."

Abigail's eyes pinch at the outer corners. "It was. It's what I wanted. On my terms ."

"I don't understand."

"You did what I was running away from. Men trying to control me, arrange my story and my choices and–"

I balk. "I did no such thing, Abigail. That wasn't what any of this was meant to–"

"Your meaning, Theo, is lost in the execution," she says. "To go to this extent to keep me here–"

"How am I keeping you here when you want to stay? Everything you've said since you started staying with me, everything we've done has indicated you want to stay and that–" I run a hand through my hair and try to catch my temper before it flits away. "Tell me that's what you wanted. Be honest."

"On my terms," she says.

"Bloody hell–"

" On my terms ," Abigail hisses in anger.

I let out an elongated, "Oh," looking up at the ceiling and pulling off my glasses. Rubbing at my eyes, I have to laugh. "This is ludicrous."

"What about me not wanting people meddling in my life is–"

"You're so caught up in your own immature sense of self that you can't see when people are fighting for you, Abigail."

Her eyes widen. "Immature?"

"Yes, immature. I knew this would be a problem." This is why I asked Edwin to introduce me to women my own age. They know themselves. They aren't clinging to the narrative they have all the control over the world around them.

Abigail stares at me for a long moment.

I've affronted her. And that was the point with my words, I suppose.

She gets up from her seat, her chair dragging across the floor, causing a sharp noise to echo through the restaurant. Without a word, she tears her coat off the back of her seat and leaves me at the table.

"Bloody hell," I mutter, ignoring the prying eyes.

I reach into my wallet, throw down too much money on the table to cover the check, and rush after her.

Abigail's already made it halfway down the block when I make it out of the restaurant. "Abigail! Don't run away!"

She continues walking away, head held high.

That stupid dress makes her ass look amazing, and I know that's the last thing I should be thinking about right now.

I have to run to catch up with her. "Abigail, don't walk away from me."

I grab her by the arm, but she yanks herself away, turning to face me. "Don't touch me."

Holding my hands up in surrender, I say, "Then don't run away and prove my point."

Abigail leans into her hip. "The point that I'm immature?"

"Can you put on your coat so you don't catch a cold? It's freezing out here," I say, reaching for her jacket.

"I'm warm, thank you," she spits. She lifts her chin high. "This is good. You think I'm immature, and I think you're a controlling bastard. This means we can have a clean break."

"A controlling bastard? Jesus Christ, just the one thing doesn't mean–"

"It's not just this one thing. You masterminded this. You masterminded keeping me here."

I gape at her. "You wanted to stay."

She didn't just communicate this in her words, but her actions too. The way she has become everything to Bonnie. Everything to me. That she chose me.

"I did what I could to make that happen."

"This is my life, Theo! My life! It does not just exist for you!"

"And mine doesn't exist only for you!"

"That's perfectly clear."

I step away, huffing a cloudy breath into the air. "You got involved with a man who has a child, Abigail. You know she comes first. Always."

"Yes, your daughter. Who I absolutely adore."

My heart grows heavy in my chest. "That's why I… We can continue, if you stay."

"I don't want to, now that I know that you're just like my father," Abigail says her voice cold and expression distant.

I am transported back to those first times I saw her when I moved to New York. How she always had that wall up between us. She's built it up again. Keeping me out. Keeping me at bay. The difference, though, is I'm no longer yearning. I know what's on the other side of that wall.

I love what's on the other side of that wall. And it's not good for me. Not at all.

"You want me to exist in the parameters of what makes you comfortable. So much so you'd–god, Theo, what you did is actually insane! The fact you did it in secret and created this whole plan, it's actually harrowing to imagine what else you could accomplish."

"I'm not a villain. I'm not diabolical."

"Now I know you're capable of it, though," Abigail says, her teeth gritted. "Behind my back. Beside me. Inside me ."

The last one wounds me, the way she says it. Like I've tainted her body with mine.

We stand in the cold for several minutes, neither of us speaking nor willing to walk away. Abigail finally puts on her coat to protect from the February chill, thank goodness. She shoves her hands in her pockets. "I'm going to Ireland."

"Don't do that," I whisper, unsure if she hears it, my voice so thin against the air.

"I'll pack up and leave tomorrow."

I say nothing. I am both shocked and not at all. Because she is hardheaded. Self-possessed, which is both a compliment and an insult. I say nothing because I know there is nothing I can say to change this. She is committed to misunderstanding my effort for her.

"And we can cut this short. That's what will be best."

Best for her. Not for me. Not for Bonnie. "I tried so hard to prevent this."

"I don't know why you'd want to. When you think I'm so immature." She shakes her head.

I wince. "Bonnie…"

"I know. I hate that I have to hurt her to protect myself from you."

It's all gotten so out of hand. "I did it because I–"

Love will not fix this, right now. If anything, it will make her venom puncture deeper. It will push me to the darkness, the darkness I've learned to avoid.

"Because you what?" Abigail asks, the end of her sentence clipped so tight I know there is no answer to satisfy her.

I muster all the vitriol I have inside me to answer: "Because I thought it was best for my daughter. Turns out I was wrong."

Her lips tip up in a confusing smile. She nods. "Yes, we both were, weren't we?"

Neither of us says another word.

I look down the street to see an oncoming cab. As it comes closer, I hail it. The car slows down at the curb. The moment I reach for the door, Abigail starts to walk away.

"Wait," I bark after her.

She does me the honor of listening once more.

I open the door for Abigail and usher her inside.

Abigail doesn't look at me as she gets inside.

I give the cab driver my address, then go to hand Abigail some cash. She holds up her hand. "Don't bother."

I purse my lips tight, grab her hand, and force the money into it. Anger veils my true desperation.

What I'd like to say is, "Let me take care of you one last time."

Instead, I close the door behind her and watch the car drive off.

She takes my heart with her. And with it every hope I thought was too good to hope for. Turns out I was right to be wary of my hopes.

If you don't hope, you don't get heartbroken.

If you don't hope, you can bloody fucking survive.