It’s just warm tonight.
Yes. That must be it.
This is a business partnership,I remind myself.You’re an actor, taking on the role of a lifetime, but instead of an Academy Award, you’re getting insulated floors. Donotblush around him. Maybe don’t even look at him unless you have to. Period. He sees all of it as a win.
And I refuse to let Theo Nikolaou win anything tonight.
Chapter 11
Theo
“Are you going to give me the cold shoulder all night?”
My question goes unanswered as Fable glares at the window in Maddox’s front door.
I poke her shoulder and wince. “Ouch. So cold.”
Her lips twitch. Only a millimeter, but I’ll take it.
In theory, tonight should be a piece of cake. Maddox and his wife, Vivian, know this is a charade. So, really, Fable and I are practicing spending time together. It should be relaxed. Easy. Alittle chaotic (knowing the usual state of Maddox’s house), but fun.
If I can get Fable on board.
“Do you mind telling mewhyyou’re ignoring me? You know, so I can write it in my journal later?” I lift an imaginary pen and pretend to write on my other palm. “Reason number 8,975 why Fable isn’t speaking to me...”
“I’m mentally preparing for the performance I’m about to take part in,” she says primly, but I can tell she’s fighting a grin. “Pretending I like you requires a lot of effort, but once that door opens, I’ll beon.”
Perfect. Iring the doorbell again. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.”
Footsteps echo on the other side of the door, and she lets out a long-suffering sigh, her lashes fluttering to her cheeks. Then her hand slides into mine.
For a moment, all I can do is stare down as she laces our fingers together, a bolt of electricity zinging through me. Her palm is warm and soft, and I’m not sure why she felt the need to hold my hand but fuck if I’m going to question it. She fits perfectly there.
When Maddox swings open the door, Fabletransforms. Her eyes open brightly, a smile stretches her cheeks until little brackets appear at the corners of her mouth. It’s like she’s flipped on a light switch, and as I watch it happen, I feel myself frown. She doesn’t smile likethatfor me.
Damn Maddox.He’s been there for everything—my one true friend since we met freshman year of high school. I’d take a bullet for him, his wife, or his sons.
But watching Fable smile his way? Makes me want to kick him in the shins.
“Welcome,” he says, looking frazzled but happy.
Fable’s hand leaves mine as Maddox hugs her quickly, then waves us inside. We follow a trail of yellow footprints on the tile into the kitchen, where Vivian is washing two-year-old Miles’s yellow-tinted feet in the sink. Four-year-old Carter is running circles around the island, leaving more footprints as he goes, and their chocolate lab, Chewie, in lying on the floor, yellow staining her paws as well. A puddle of what looks like paint is pooling near the back door, the stove is pulled away from the wall with a row of tools spread out on top, and animated dogs are singing on the television.
Pure chaos. Ilove it here.
Maddox scoops up Carter and tosses me a package of baby wipes. “Mind cleaning Chewie’s feet?” he asks before dunking Carter’s feet under the faucet.
Carter waves. “Hi, Uncle Theo.” Then he squints at Fable (who looks surprisingly unbothered by what we’ve walked into). “Who are you?”
“I’m Fable.” She side-eyes me as she hangs her jacket on a barstool. “Your uncle Theo’s”—a swallow—“girlfriend.”
Surprise flickers through me. Did I forget to tell her that Maddox and Vivian know the truth? Surely, I told her. Right?
“Welcome!” Vivian says, tossing her braids over her shoulder and out of the way. “Sorry for the mess. Miles thought it would be funny to dump an entire bottle of paint on the floor.” She smacks a kiss to his cheek. “Hilarious.”
“At least it wasn’t red.” I yank a baby wipe out of the package and squat beside Chewie to clean her paws, careful not to step in any paint. “Then it would likeblood.” I use my best creepy voice and Carter giggles.
“Blood,” Miles repeats as Vivian sets him on the couch with a cup of snacks.
