25. Theo

25

THEO

Vince waves his hands at the play structure, trying to get the attention of the kids. "Hey! No climbing on the roofs! That's not what they're for!"

"Awwwww," his twins, Hannah and Harvey, groan in unison. Bonnie joins in a moment later, trying to play it cool with the older kids.

Vince huffs, rolling his eyes as he returns to his spot beside me on the park bench. "Sorry, they're menaces."

"And we love them," I reply, watching as Bonnie trails after Hannah down the curling slide and Harvey piles in after her. The twins are only a year older than Bonnie, both of them blond and brown-eyed, athletic, and cheeky as all get out.

They don't take after Vince at all, which means they must take after their late mother. I understand that pain, seeing a woman who is no longer around in the face of your child.

But I didn't lose Esme like that . She wasn't the woman I wanted to love forever.

"Anyway, where were we?" Vince asks, spreading his arms onto the back of the bench.

"You really want to talk business now?" I ask with a smirk. "I thought this was a playdate."

"No shame in multitasking, right?"

Vince is my latest addition to my portfolio. We're working on getting his late wife's assets in order and then further extending their worth through investment opportunities.

We had a meeting at my office a week or so ago, but then we started talking about our kids, a conversation we apparently started having at Bridget and Seth's wedding but swiftly left my mind thanks to the shadow of my relationship with Abigail.

Even thinking her name suffocates me.

Anyway, once we realized our kids were only a year apart in age, I was eager to get a playdate sorted for Bonnie.

I'm still ever trying to expand her community ever since the blow up in January between Edwin and me.

It was foolish to rest on the laurels of Abigail's presence in her life. Because in an instant, that all disappeared. Bonnie's taken it okay, I suppose, but I don't know how long that will last. Especially when she's old enough to want the truth. I won't be able to hide that from her…but I also don't want her to think less of me.

Vince clears his throat. "You…hear me?"

"Sorry, multitasking, yes, we can," I say.

Vince furrows his dark brow. With a name like Vincenzo Palmeri, one has to assume it's the Italian blood in him. "You all right?"

"Hm? Fine." I dust my hand over my knee as if there's something there.

"Doesn't seem like you're fine, man," Vince says with a toothy grin. "Come on, you can tell me."

I shift in my seat, crossing my ankle over my knee. "No, really. You're a client, that's not appropriate."

When I first took over Wallington Limited, I wouldn't have cared how I spoke to clients. I would have overshared. That's what got us in so much hot water over and over again. Not being careful. Of course, I wasn't the one committing crimes. But I was the one who had to clean them up.

"Dude, come on," Vince says. "We need to have a place to share how we're feeling too, right?"

Vince might be younger than me, but the world hasn't changed that much since I was a young man.

I grew up being told to have a stiff upper lip. It's the British way. The British male way . The way it is for men all over the world. Stuff it down so it doesn't see the light of day.

Even if you're hurting so much you don't know how to survive.

I've been in that dark place. So dark I don't know where the light comes in. Thank god I have Bonnie. She keeps things light.

Without her, though…I'm not sure what I'd do having lost Abigail.

"If you have someone you talk to, then fine, don't let me push you. But I'm just saying, I have an ear. I'm happy to lend it," Vince explains.

"I'm sure you're full up with feelings ," I say, attempting levity.

But Vince remains insistent. "I have room for other people now. I didn't for a while since I lost…" He clears his throat.

No, I won't pile my feelings onto a man still grieving his wife. "I'm all right. Let's talk business, hm?"

§

When I go into Bonnie's room to tuck her in for the night, I'm shocked to see her holding the stuffed puffin Abigail bought her for Christmas. She's curled on one side, cradling the little plush bird to her chest.

"That's a new bedfellow…" I come over to her side and sit on the edge of the bed.

"Do they have phones in Ireland?" Bonnie whispers.

"Of course they do. They have phones everywhere. Well, most everywhere, I can't be sure about the jungles of Malaysia or remote Alaska, but…"

"So, she could call?"

I freeze.

Explaining Abigail's absence has not been easy. In fact, it's been impossible. When Bonnie realized Abigail was gone, I tried to keep it light. That she had to leave early, that her work was so important they needed her now.

Naturally, Bonnie was disappointed, but she wasn't distraught.

Lying to my child is never good. It was necessary, though. For survival.

Now, though, I've lucked out for too long.

"Yes, love, she could," I answer honestly, stroking my hand down her side.

"So, why hasn't she?" she whimpers.

I duck my head down to look at Bonnie closer. She's got tears streaking her face. "Have you been crying, Bonnie?"

She pushes her face into the puffin. "No."

"Yes, you have." My concern ramps up. "Why are you trying to hide that you're crying from me?"

Bonnie squeezes the puffin tighter. "Because you like it when I'm happy."

"I like you all the time, Bonbon." My heart pounds in my throat. "What makes you think–when did I–"

She doesn't respond, her little body shaking.

To be honest, it's been a while since I've seen her break down. I thought that meant she was happy…that she was resilient.

Slowly, reality overwhelms my brain. Has my little girl been pretending that every smile is genuine? That her happiness comes naturally? All to keep me happy? Oh, that won't do. That won't do at all.

"Bonnie, my love…" I rub her back, tears pricking my own eyes. "You never have to be any way for me to like you. I like you all the time. When you're happy, when you're sad, when you're mad."

"I'm mad !" she wails into her stuffed animal. "And sad! And angry and confused and I feel everything at once."

I nod, though I don't really understand. I'm just receiving as best I can.

"Why did she leave? What did I do?"

"Nothing, Bon, nothing."

Bonnie pauses. "I thought she liked me."

"She loved you, Bon. Loves you." God, Abigail loved her. I know she did. "But I'm here. I love you too."

"I want more love," she cries.

That's it. I'm not enough. And how can I fault her for that? She's a child, she deserves as much love as possible, and I've taken every outlet for love she could have bit by bit until it's just us on this island. An island where she has to pay attention to my needs and her own.

That's no way for a child to live.

We go back and forth for a bit until Bonnie's tears have abated and her questions about Abigail are mollified, however temporary that might be. I don't leave her side until she's asleep, though. I make sure she's not going to lay here, tossing and turning thanks to my cocked-up parenting.

I run my hand through her hair over and over again until her muscles stop clenching, and her breath slows and deepens.

Now, it's my turn.

I tiptoe into the hallway, make sure the door is shut behind her, and then I fall to my knees, my head in my hands.

I have not cried like this in years. Not since the world closed in around me and darkness threatened to take me for good. Breaking down reminds me I'm alive. It means I haven't given up.

But this…my daughter's misery, my own misery, the loneliness.

It's all my fault. Because I was the one who put the wall around my relationship with Abigail. I told her we could only be together as long as she was in New York and got greedy. I wanted her for longer.

I wanted her forever.

And I got up to my old tricks, my old underhanded ways to try and make things work in my favor.

That doesn't work with Abigail. That's what pushed her from me in the first place. But I did it anyway. Trying to preserve what I wanted. Out of selfishness.

I didn't consider Abigail. I didn't really consider Bonnie either.

I considered me, myself, and I.

And now I have to pay for it.

I clutch at my chest. The feeling of break has never been so present in me. Like someone has chiseled open my sternum.

From the moment I laid eyes on Abigail back in September, something aligned in me. I don't know if soulmates are real, but I knew we were something special. And bit by bit, it expanded into every part of my life.

I need her. God, I need her.

However, she's gone, and wants nothing to do with me. So, I have to pick up the pieces and move on.

Or…I have to make up for my mistakes. I have to grovel. I have to fix this.

But it's not just Abigail I have to grovel to.

§

"Thanks for seeing me."

Edwin eyes me from behind his big, wooden desk. "Well, you kind of showed up unannounced, so…"

"Yes, but you could have told me to go." I take a tentative step into the room.

Edwin's expression is cool. He turns his eyes to his computer screen. "What do you want, Dory?"

"Dory, that's a good sign," I try to make a joke, but Edwin doesn't even crack a smile. "Um…listen, I don't know what you know or don't know, but–"

Admitting to my friend that I broke his daughter's heart after fighting tooth and nail for her isn't the best look, but I have to be straight with myself. If I'm going to get her back, I need to be honest. All the way.

"I fucked up. With Abigail."

Edwin turns back to look at me, confusion on his brow.

"Not by pursuing her. I don't regret that." I approach the chair facing Edwin's desk and grab the back of it. I can't sit, not when I'm so anxious. "I messed up with her, and I haven't heard from her since she left for Ireland."

Edwin's jaw falls open slightly.

"Before that if I'm honest. The, uh, the details don't really matter. But I made a stupid fucking mistake and she left as I deserved and–" My knuckles are turning white. "God, Edwin, I really screwed everything up."

"Wait, let me get this straight… You don't talk to her or anything?"

"No, I haven't heard anything since she…since we ended things. My fault. In case you've forgotten."

"Of course it would be your fault," Edwin says, and it's not necessarily mean, it's just true. Us men always find a way to screw things up. "What did you do to her?"

I put my hands on my hips and let out a breath. "I tried to get her a job at the aquarium so she wouldn't have to leave."

"So, that's why she called me about the aquarium."

My brows jump. "She called you about–"

"Briefly. She didn't want to talk to me." Edwin purses his lips.

I may as well lay it all out. "I was trying to keep her from leaving and I just…went overboard with the machinations, I suppose."

Edwin stares at me. I can't read his dark eyes.

I gulp down my fear. "Have you heard from her? Is she well?"

Edwin's eyes fall to his desk. "I haven't heard from her in quite some time. None of us have."

My heart drops into my stomach. "You haven't heard from her at all?"

"I heard from Grainne. I know she's alive and well. But other than that, some of us have tried to reach out. I tried a couple times. But…" Edwin leans back in his chair. "You really haven't been talking to her?"

I rub my forehead. "I wouldn't be here if I was."

Edwin doesn't reply right away. He gets up from his desk and goes to the window of his office. "Fuck, we've fucked it all up, haven't we?"

I like the sound of that. That we're in this together. It's not my fault and it's not his. But ours. "Bonnie is distraught," I say. "So am I."

Edwin's chilled expression breaks the slightest bit. Is that warmth I sense? "I'm still furious with you for going behind my back."

"Understandable."

Edwin takes me in, sizes me up. "God, you look like shit."

"Thanks. I know." I scratch my hand through my hair. It could use a wash. "Um, look, I owe you an apology for going behind your back, I should have…I should have spoken to you instead of going behind your back."

Edwin smiles sympathetically.

"But Abigail doesn't deserve the distance from you, all right? You should be so proud of her because she's an incredible woman, and that's no doubt thanks in part to you. She intelligent and compassionate and…" I tuck my tongue into my cheek. "Bonnie absolutely adores her. I adore her. I know it's so fucking pear shaped, Edwin, but I can't ignore how I feel."

"Holy shit."

My eyes lock with Edwin's.

His guard finally drops utterly and entirely. "You love her, don't you?"

Edwin can't know that before Abigail does. "I wasn't trying to take advantage of her. It was never just physical. I care about her." My hand falls against my chest, to my aching sternum. "A lot, Edwin."

It's strange to be telling my best friend I'm in love with his daughter. But it's the truth, and there's no reason to deny it.

"I had to get square with you before I go after her," I say. "Because that's what I want to do, I need to go fix things. But I'm not going to move forward without your blessing any longer."

If he tells me no, I might dissolve into a million particles.

But Edwin doesn't leave me hanging long. He lifts his chin and gives me a single nod. "Better you than me, I think."

I find myself moving, walking around Edwin's desk until he is within arm's reach. I hold out my hand to him.

He ignores it and pulls me in for a hug. A hug I didn't know I needed as badly as I do.

Neither of us says anything. The hug grows tighter. The subtext is all Abigail. We're seeing each other, though we aren't looking at one another. The two men in the world who care for Abigail the most out of anyone.

We part, Edwin patting my shoulder. "I'd say don't hurt her, but…I'm afraid we've both failed on that front."

He runs his hands down into his pockets. "I'm not going to say I was wrong to feel betrayed by you, but Abigail is a grown woman, and she knows what she wants. If that's you, then it's you. I should learn to let go."

I see myself in two decades standing across from me. Watching Bonnie grow up and out of my control. No. Not control. Protection.

"I can't blame you, mate. But I promise she's precious to me. I can't lose–"

You already did .

"Can't lose her," I manage to finish, shutting down that dark voice in my head.

"Me either."

We share a determined nod, and I head toward the door. "I'll be on the soonest flight to Dublin."

"Keep me updated, will you?" Edwin asks.

I put my hand on the doorknob, turn back to him, and say, "Absolutely."

Emotion wells up in my friend's face, his lips trembling.

I don't know him to be a crier. But we've changed over the years. Grown up. A lot. Until now, though, we haven't done any growing up together. Better late than never.

"Good. Good. I'll try and reach out again, but if she doesn't reply, tell her I love her, will you?"

"Of course."

Edwin holds back any vulnerability that was threatening to come to the surface. He hardens his jaw, stares me down, and says, "Don't hold back, okay? Say what you mean to her, or else you'll regret it."

A smile spreads across my face, one that sends all the negative spiraling thoughts back, hissing at the light of truth. "Trust me. I know exactly what I need to say to her."

I owe her an apology, prostrate on my knees before her.

And then three words.

I love you .

Maybe six.

I love you. No matter what .

Yes. That has a nice ring to it.