He takes me down a hallway, and I barely have time to glance around the main living space. I note beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows and modern furniture with clean lines, but not much else. The door at the end of the hall is closed, and he positions me firmly in front of it.
“Go ahead,” he whispers softly into my ear.
I slowly turn the handle, holding my breath, unsure of what the hell to expect. When the door swings open fully, I gasp in surprise, my hand flying to my chest.
The corner room has two full walls of floor-to-ceiling windows, incredible views of the city just beyond the panes of glass. Right in the center of the room is a drawing desk with a neat stack of sketchbooks placed in its center. A shelving unit to my right is stocked full of paints and charcoals, brushes and pens, nearly every imaginable art supply.
By the window stands a large easel, a fresh blank canvas perched upon it, just begging someone to transform it into a work of art.
I’m stunned speechless. Unable to form even a single word. I turn back toward Theo, my eyes blown wide. “I—” I manage to choke out, but he interrupts me.
“For you, Sophie. If you want it.”
And again, I cry.
Theo scoops me up into his arms, carrying me back up the hallway and into another room. His bedroom, I quickly realize. He sets me gently on the bed, then kneels down before me, removing my shoes one by one.
“Thank you,” I whisper, still in absolute shock that I’m here, with him. Tonight has gone totally off the rails in the best possible way.
I glance up at the wall behind his head and a laugh escapes my throat. Framed, and blown up much bigger than my original drawings, are the sketches I’d made of him and I. He’d saved them. Framed them. Displayed them in his room proudly, for him to see.
“I can’t—” I try to speak, clearing my throat before attempting again. “I can’t believe you’re here… can’t believe that this is real. I thought you left me.”
“No, Soph. Never. I was always close by. I just—I shouldn’t have left at all. But I was terrified, so scared for you. I didn’t want to be the reason your whole world fell apart. The reason you lost your family or your chance to chase your dreams.”
He clears his throat, dropping his eyes to the floor, before continuing. “It killed me, every day we spent apart. I vowed to get my life together, to get situated, so that when you were ready… here I’d be. Waiting for you.”
He looks up again, eyes shining. “I sold my parents’ house, Sophie. I finally let it go. It was hard, but it felt like the right time. And I landed a new writing job—one I actually love. It’s not just a paycheck. It’s the first time I feel like I’m doing what I’m meant to do. Following my dream, you know? And this place...” He gestures around them. “I found it for us. I wanted it to be a home. Somewhere we could start over. If you want that.”
He pauses, voice thick. “It took me longer than I’d expected, and for that, I am forever sorry. I wanted to have a job and a place to live… to be worthy of you. To give you everything you deserve. But please know, I was never far. I watched you walk across the stage on your graduation day. I’ve religiously stalked your social media pages like a damn creep, I’ve made sure you were okay.”
Another sob escapes my throat, a tear streaking down my face at the genuine love and honesty in his voice.
“And I’ll tell you, Sophie… seeing you happy these past couple of months? Well, it’s everything to me. I only hope you allow me to be a part of your life moving forward, but please know that no matter what… I’ll always support you. Always respect your wishes. But fuck, Soph, I beg you to choose me. And I promise, I swear, I’ll spend the rest of our lives doing everything in my power to make you happy.”
I reach forward, taking his hand, and pull him to me. Looking up into his eyes. “I love you, Theo. And I forgive you. But never, ever leave me again.”
“You have my word.”
Then he’s kissing me, his body pressing down against mine, and we lose ourselves in each other for what feels like the first time all over again.
I waketo the smell of bacon.
For a second, I think I’m dreaming again. That I’ve conjured the scent out of longing, the way I’ve conjured him up so many times before. But then I roll over, and the other side of the bed is empty, the sheets still warm.
Sunlight pours through the windows, casting golden light across the floor. Somewhere in the apartment, a pan sizzles and a familiar voice hums low to the tune of something I can’t quite place.
I blink the sleep from my eyes, stretch, and slip out of bed. One of Theo’s soft T-shirts is draped across a chair, and I tug it on before padding barefoot down the hall.
He’s in the kitchen, shirtless, barefoot, hair still a mess fromsleep, a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. He’s flipping something in a pan, a mug of coffee waiting beside him. He doesn’t hear me at first, too focused on whatever delicious thing he’s creating.
I lean against the doorway and watch him, just for a minute. There’s a calmness to him I didn’t realize I’d missed, this soft concentration he slips into when he cooks. I remember it now. The late-night meals in his kitchen, the quiet cups of coffee, the comfort of being cared for in a hundred small ways. This man doesn’t just love with his words. He loves with his actions.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he says, without turning around.
A smile spreads across my face. “How’d you know I was here?”
“You breathe louder when you’re trying to sneak up on me.”
