Emma nods. “How do you think she’ll take it?”
“I have no idea,” I admit. I wipe my hands on the dish towel and lean against the counter, facing her. “Victoria’s unpredictable. She might not care at all. She might be happy for me. She might use it as an excuse to cause drama. I stopped trying to predict her reactions a long time ago.”
Emma’s quiet for a moment, and I can see her working up to something. She fidgets with the paper in front of her, smoothing down a corner that’s already flat.
“Do you think she’ll be upset that I’m Chloe’s teacher?” she asks finally. “Or that I’m a decade younger than you both?” She looks up at me, and there’s a vulnerability in her expression I don’t see often. “I mean, I’m the first person you’ve really dated since the divorce. That’s got to bring up some feelings for her. Even if she’s the one who left.”
I cross the kitchen to her. She looks up at me, that worry still in her eyes, and I pull her up out of the seat and kiss her softly.
“You don’t need to worry about any of that,” I say against her mouth. I take her face in my hands and kiss her again.
When I pull back, she looks up at me. “But what if she makes things difficult?” she asks quietly. “What if she tries to use it against you somehow or?—“
I kiss her again, cutting off the spiral before it can build. “Emma.” I pull back just enough to look at her. “I don’t care if she’s upset. I don’t care if she doesn’t like it. I don’t care if she thinks you’re too young or that it’s inappropriate or whatever else she might come up with.” I hold her gaze, needing her to hear this. “I love you. I want you. Victoria’s opinion doesn’t change that.Nothingchanges that.”
She reaches up and traces her fingers along my jaw, featherlight, then down my neck, across my collarbone. Everywhere she touches feels electric. “I believe you,” she whispers.
I groan softly and pull her against me, kissing her like I’m trying to prove every word I just said. She melts into me, her arms winding around my neck, fingers sliding into my hair. When her nails scrape lightly against my scalp, heat rushes through me and I back her against the table, lifting her onto the edge without breaking the kiss.
She wraps her legs around me instantly, pulling me closer, and I sink into her, into the warmth of her body, the taste of her mouth, the little sounds she makes when I kiss down her neck. Papers scatter to the floor and neither of us notices.
“Theo,” she breathes, tilting her head back to give me better access.
I press my lips to the hollow of her throat, feel her pulse racing under my mouth. My hands slide under the hem of her shirt—my shirt—and find warm skin. She shivers and pulls me back up to kiss her again, harder now, hungrier.
Dinner is completely forgotten.
CHAPTER 20
Emma
Theo and I are curled up on his couch, me tucked against his side with my legs folded under me, the fire crackling low and the last light fading over the water outside. The house still smells like the cookies we baked this afternoon with Chloe, who ate four before dinner and then claimed she wasn’t hungry.
We played a board game for the rest of the night. Chloe and I share a competitive streak that Theo clearly finds hilarious, given how hard he laughed watching us face off. She won by a landslide. I took it with grace and dignity, by which I mean I immediately accused her of cheating and she giggled so hard she fell off the couch.
Now she’s conked out upstairs, exhausted from all of it, and it’s just me and Theo and the quiet.
“You know,” I tell him, taking a sip of my wine. “I could get used to this.”
I gesture vaguely at the room—the fire, the view, the wine, him. All of it. I realize a second too late what I’m actually saying. That I want this. That I want to be here, with him and Chloe,not just tonight but every night. That I’m already imagining a future where this is my life.
Theo’s thumb traces lazy patterns on my shoulder. “Good,” he says. “That’s the plan. Seduce you into staying forever with good food and fucking you senseless every chance I get.”
I nearly choke on my wine. “Wow,” I manage, grinning up at him. “You’re pretty smooth for an old man. I hope that’s a promise.”
“I preferdistinguished, and it’s definitely a promise.”
We sit in silence for a while, watching the fire, drinking our wine. The weight of the day settles over me like a blanket, heavy but warm. I feel safe here, in his house, in his arms, in this life we’re building together.
“Can I ask you something?” Theo says eventually.
“Anything.”
“Your parents.” He says it carefully. “You don’t talk about them much. I know your mom passed, and I know that’s when things got complicated with the company. I just want to understand.”
Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. I don’t love talking about my family, the whole thing is such a mess, and once you start pulling at one thread the whole ugly tapestry unravels. But with Theo it feels different.
“You sure you want all the gory details?” I ask, looking up at him.
