My hands are shaking as I set the ice bucket on the nearest flat surface, my heart pounding cartoonishly fast. I feel flushedeverywhere, like I have a fever. My hand reaches out to the door handle, brushing it once. I drop it.
Don’t go there.
I turn, walk all of three feet, then spin around again. I bite my lip in indecision, feeling insane.
I swing open the door and come face-to-face with Theo.
CHAPTER10
Theo leans toward me, his hands on either side of the door frame, his body filling the open space. He looks at me almost in disbelief, like he’s not sure if I’m real. He swallows, forcing the next words out on a rasp. “Do you want to come to my room?”
I’m struck by a swell of memories: images of Theo braced over me, his hands fisted in the sheets. His lips on my neck, my hands in his hair, his weight pressing me down. My breath hitches as my eyes fall to his mouth. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly.
It’s the most humbling moment of my life. “Good night, Theo.”
He sticks his foot out to stop me from shutting the door in his face. “Please.” His voice scrapes my spine like gravel. “We need to talk. There are some things I should have said the moment I saw you in the park.”
“Say them here.”
He’s silent for several seconds before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for leaving you in Greece.”
The sincere ache in his tone chips away at my defenses, but I’m not ready to let them go. “Is that all?”
A door opens and Henry appears in the hall. “Don’t mind me, just going to check on Victoria.” He ducks his head and knocks on another door, disappearing the instant it cracks open.
“C’mon. We’re not doing this out here,” Theo insists. He ushers me down the hall, where he opens the door to his dimly lit suite, and we step inside. He sits on the sofa in front of the fireplace, which is now alight with a crackling fire. I sit on the other side of the sofa, realizing too late how small it is; even sitting on the opposite end puts me almost directly next to him.
He picks up the open beer from the end table, then sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you, and I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t forgive me either, but I need to apologize anyway.” Light from the fire flickers on his face, casting half of him in shadows.
I clear the swelling emotion from my throat. “The pilot implied that you asked her to fly me home. Is that true?”
He blinks at me in surprise. “Of course it is. Did you really think—” He shakes his head. “You thought I left you there to die alone?”
I tuck my legs under me because I need the illusion of distance between us. My shoddy defenses are crumbling. “It happened so fast, and you were furious…”
He tilts his head to the side and studies me sadly. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
“AndIthought you’d never forgive me for turning you in.”
He runs a hand over his face. “I was being a stubborn and shortsighted git. I fooled myself into believing we had a chance outside the bunker because I wanted it to be true so badly, but you were the only one thinking clearly. Listen to me, Wheeler.” He leans in, shrinking the distance between us. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
And just like that, my defenses have collapsed, taking three months of pent-up guilt with them. “It was an impossible situation; there weren’t any good choices.”
“I should have done more. I should have demanded that you be let in the bunker.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I’m gutted every time I think of your face as the car drove away.”
It’s strangely comforting to know that I’m not the only one who spent the summer lost in a supercut of memories. “You did the best you could with the circumstances we had.”
“I wish we had different circumstances,” he says quietly.
My heart is in my throat. “We do now, don’t we?” It somehow feels like the bravest thing I’ve ever said.
He smiles wryly and tips his head back against the sofa. “Look at what they’re saying about us online and tell me it doesn’t feel like the end of the world.”
“I think your press team would rather deal with a second comet than with me.”
He rolls his head to the side to look at me. “You’re not wrong, Wheeler. At least the comet was predictable.” He sighs. “I’ll ask again about the security detail. I know you don’t want to come to London.” He picks up the beer bottle.
