4. Theo

4

THEO

Abigail has been quiet all night since our kitchen run in.

I feel like a bloody bugger for my suggestion.

It came from a good place, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Story of my bloody life. Always wanting the best for everyone else, not quite sure what would be best for myself, often losing the forest for the trees and cack-handing everything up anyway.

Currently, she's sitting by the window, playing a boardgame with Bonnie, her elbows resting on her knees as she watches Bonnie roll a pair of dice. Her hair drapes over her back like water, and her freckled cheeks bounce with a smile.

She preoccupies me. Her mere being.

The fact she seems put off by me at every turn only adds to my fixation.

I want to know why. What I did. How she sees me. Why don't I get the unfettered smiles she seems to give everyone else?

I am not owed those smiles. Not owed her kindness. In fact, I'd rather Bonnie have it than me.

Still, I can't help wanting.

Edwin's hand claps down on my shoulder. "Want to have a drink in my office?"

I give Bonnie and Abigail a final look. Bonnie claps excitedly as Abigail has to hand over some of her cards.

She shakes her head and sighs as if what's happened is more dramatic than the state of life itself.

Their game is the most exciting thing in the room between the sleeping twins, conversations between friends, tiny touches between lovers.

"They're fine." Edwin smiles.

I know he's right. So, I agree.

We retreat to his office where Edwin pours me a couple of fingerfuls of a very nice scotch.

My eyes gravitate toward a bookcase shelf that is full of photos of the Lyons family over the years.

Pictures from his wedding to Sonia, the twins looking like raisins in their first few hours of life, photos of his older children from various phases in their lives.

My eyes freeze on a photo of Edwin with a tween version of Abigial, the two of them dressed in their Sunday best.

She's standing on the tips of his shoes, grinning ear to ear.

Must have been a father daughter dance or something special like that.

I tear my eyes away.

She might be a grown woman now, but she'll always be Edwin's child, and that's how I should see her.

"How are you settling in so far?" My friends sits in the leather arm chair across from me.

"You know jet lag gets worse with age?"

"Haven't you been in New York for two weeks already."

"I'm getting old, Ed." I swig my scotch.

"Don't say that. Because if you're old, I'm old. And I don't feel old."

I eye my friend.

He's recently fifty and looks good for his age despite all our antics from previous decades. "The children help with that, maybe."

"No, no. The children definitely do not help with the aging." Edwin has a soft smile on his face.

He wouldn't trade it. I know the feeling.

"They've got me up at strange hours and have me worrying again in ways I haven't since Abigail was a kid."

I try to veil my thick swallow.

"No, Sonia is what keeps me young." He gives a slow nod.

"A woman? Keeping you young? Dream on, mate." I chuckle.

Edwin's onyx eyes find mine. "The wrong one will suck the life out of you, sure."

I grimace, thinking of Bonnie's mother. "Don't remind me."

Esme made quite sure that I lost a few years of my life by the time we divorced.

Edwin sips his liquor and places the cup on his knee. "Look, man. I know it's hard to get back out there after someone betrays you the way Esme did. But…"

I look down into my drink.

Esme was the beginning of the end for me. At least that's how it felt for a while. When I found out what was happening, my kingdom crumbled around me.

"You know, a woman would be good for you. And for Bonnie, don't you think?"

I get a vision of Abigail in the back of my brain and wick it away as quick as it arrived. "I do. Although dating is a monster I'd rather not have to deal with, you know?"

"Why don't you leave it to me?" Edwin says. "I'll set you up with some people. You know, they'll be vetted. You won't have to do the run around at bars or on dating apps."

I wince. "God, dating apps."

"Exactly. I'll do all the heavy lifting. You won't have to think about it. I'll just tell you where to go and who you're meeting up with."

I smile. "Look, Edwin–"

"Don't tell me you haven't already been trying."

I have been, that's true. But nothing meaningful.

A night here, a night there. When Bonnie has been with a nanny, or I've been out of town.

At Edwin's wedding, I was flirting up a storm with his best man's daughter, although that didn't pan out. For good reason. None of that was serious, though. I just needed…an outlet.

It doesn't work anymore. One night in bed with someone doesn't give me any satisfaction.

"I suppose it's not a bad idea," I finally concede.

"You're right because it's a great idea!" Edwin grins.

I narrow my eyes. "No one younger than me, though. That got me in trouble the first time."

"Oh, come on, give me at least a decade to work with."

"Five years. Hard limit." I shake my head. "After Esme, I can't do the younger woman thing."

Another reason, of a multitude, to stay away from Abigail.

Edwin sighs. "You can't carry your pain with you forever, Theo."

I raise an eyebrow. "It's been two years, Edwin." Two years since I found out. Two years since my marriage collapsed in a single moment. Two years since everything fell apart after that. "You know, Esme and Colin and are getting married."

Edwin winces. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Exactly. Now tell me I can't carry my pain forever."

I sink back the rest of my drink. The society pages had a field day with the engagement announcement. Twin Brother of Disgraced Theodore Wallington engaged to Esme Wallington! "She doesn't even have to change her bloody last name."

Edwin smiles with sympathy. "Forget about her, all right? She's not in your life anymore. Not in Bonnie's."

I sigh. "No. She's not."

For better. It's better this way. Right?

"You're moving on. Starting a new venture. Making a new home. And you've got us through it all, all right? Me, Sonia, my kids. We're there for you."

My insides brace at the mention of his children. It's an important reminder.

Abigail Lyons is just that. A Lyons . Through and through.

And no matter what perverse thoughts my brain has of her, she will always be my best friend's daughter.

Maybe it's good I peeved her off earlier. That means the boundary is stronger than ever before.

"Let me do this for you. We can find you your person. And we'll find Bonnie hers."

I smile at the thought of Bonnie finding "her person."

Esme might have given birth to her, but she was quick to give all maternal rights and duties when it no longer suited her. "Bonnie deserves someone who won't walk away."

"Well, she has you, Theo. Don't forget that."

I press my lips together. "I try."

"You do. You're a great dad."

I look into my lap and hold in every thought I have about hating myself. "Thank you."

"Say it. Say you're a great dad."

"I can't do that, Edwin."

"Yes, you can. Say it. Say, ‘I, Dory Wallbanger–'"

I laugh. "Lay off that, would you? Especially around Bonnie."

"'I, Theodore Wallington'–"

I clear my throat. "I, Theodore Wallington, am a mostly okay dad."

"Now, that's not what I said, Wallbanger."

I roll my eyes. "I, Theodore Wallington am…" I pause. "I'm a good dad."

It's harder to say than I'd probably like it to be.

"Now say it every day until you believe it. That's my prescription."

"Yes, Dr. Lyons."

§

"Okay, that's one." Abigail buckles one of Bonnie's patent leather shoes before moving onto the other.

Bonnie tiredly holds out her foot and looks up at me. "Daddy, I don't want to go home."

"I know, my love, but it's getting late. Already past your bedtime."

She yawns. "But I'm not tired ."

"Sure, you're not."

I watch as Abigail finagles the second shoe on.

I told her she didn't have to help when Bonnie asked her too, but she said without much inflection, "It's no trouble" and accompanied us into the front hall.

I've already said my goodbyes to the rest of the Lyons clan, which means there's just Abigail left.

I was planning to avoid saying goodbye altogether, but I owe her an apology, and I'd rather not let too much time pass between the infraction and the apology.

"There we go." Abigail taps my daughter's ankle. She holds up the bag of gifts from Sonia and Edwin. "And you can't forget this."

"Thank you." Bonnie bites down on her lower lip with a smile.

"I hope to see the finished shells sometime soon."

"You can come over and paint them with me. Right, Daddy? It can be like a play date," Bonnie exclaims.

I let out a nervous laugh. "We'll see, Bonnie. Abigail's a grownup, she's got a lot on her plate."

Bonnie hops off the front bench. "Okay…"

"Why don't you say goodbye, hm?"

Bonnie wraps her arms around Abigail. "Bye, Abigail."

"Bye, Bonnie. I'll see you soon."

"You will?" Bonnie gasps. "Really?"

Abigail opens her mouth and looks at me for help.

"It's an expression, Bon," I explain and take her small hand in mine. "Look, love, can you go say goodbye to everyone one more time so I can talk with Abigail for a moment.

She yawns again, her shoulders slumping. "Okay."

We both watch Bonnie disappear down the hall, leaving us well and truly alone.

Abigail wraps her arms around her middle. "What did you, um, want to talk about?"

I clear my throat. "I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier."

Abigail frowns.

"About you…going into childcare. I just thought–"

"Oh, don't worry about it."

"I know you're a very smart girl." She's not a girl, she's a woman, you moron. "I know your dad worries about you and I… It was misguided, is all."

Abigail nods. "I understand."

"I'm sure you'll find your way." God, I sound so old with these platitudes.

"You, too."

My body ticks backward. "Sorry?"

"With the new business and everything? You're starting from scratch, right?"

I half-laugh if only to conceal my flailing ego. "Yes, I am. You're right."

"Between that and, you know, being a dad. That's a lot of pressure," she says, almost as if she's trying to imbue the situations with more pressure. As if I need any more pressure than I already feel from the circumstances and from my own bloody self.

I narrow my eyes. "Abigail, have I done something to you?"

Abigail smiles. It is both defiant and knowing. Knowing of something I don't. "No, I ‘m just wishing you well. Can't I do that?"

Edgy. That was the word Edwin used in the kitchen.

After Abigail left, Edwin apologized again. "She's wrapped up in her own little world. Can't see beyond herself a lot of the time. She's the youngest, was the only girl for a long time…"

And I'd defended her. "She's making her way. Won't be forever."

Now, her edginess is directed squarely at me. And unlike earlier, I wouldn't say I wholly deserve it.

I did apologize after all.

But maybe the dig went deeper than I anticipated.

"No, of course you can." I laugh off the situation. "Well, I'm sorry again. Feel like I owe you something even more now since the aquarium and now this and–"

Bonnie emerges from the hall. "I'm ready, Daddy."

"Better take the opportunity while you can," Abigail says.

"Yes, that's right. Come on, Bonnie, love." I hold out my hand.

Bonnie takes it and smushes herself up to my side.

"Say bye to Abigail."

"Bye, Abigail," she whimpers.

"Bye, Bonnie."

I open the door and give Abigail a final look. "Take care, Abigail."

Her green eyes catch in mine. "You, too."

I stay there probably a moment too long.

It is clear she disdains me, and something about that draws me in even more.

I want to know why. Want to know if I can fix it.

But that is completely opposite everything safe and good.

Abigail Lyons is Edwin's daughter. And if she hates me, that's good.

If Abigail despising me is good, though, why does it make me feel so empty?