Theo hesitates, then adds, casual but not careless, “Ivy’s taking her shoe shopping at the moment. Who knew birthday shoes are a thing?”
“They absolutely are,” I say. “I assume sparkly?”
“Non-negotiable,” he replies. “Lucy’s already decided Ivy has excellent taste.”
That lands. Not because he says it means something, but because he doesn’t need to.
“She’s good with her,” Theo goes on. “Doesn’t try to be anything. Just… to be there.”
I nod. “That’s the trick.”
He shrugs, but there’s a quiet satisfaction under it. “Didn’t think I’d get this. Not like this.”
“You look settled,” I say.
He snorts. “Don’t say that too loudly. Might jinx it.”
I watch him for a moment as he reaches for the cloth again, wiping down a counter that doesn’t need it. I remember the version of Theo who swore he wasn’t cut out for this. The one who chased intensity because it felt safer than stability. Who mistook noise for certainty.
I remember Ivy arriving gradually. Not with fireworks, but with continuity. Turning up. Staying. Filling the gaps without announcing she was doing it.
It suits him, this version. Grounded. Less restless. Like he’s stopped waiting for something else to start.
Theo clears his throat and looks back at me, catching me mid-thought. “What’s that look about?”
“Just… noticing.”
He smirks. “Careful. That’s how it gets you.”
And, just like that, the moment passes, the café hum filling the space again as the conversation moves on.
Theo rests his forearms on the counter and tilts his head at me. “So,” he says. “Your turn.”
“My turn for what?”
He smiles faintly. “Dating. Finding the one.”
I huff a laugh. “Who says I’m looking forthe one?”
“You’ve gone very non-specific,” he says. “That’s usually your tell.”
I look down at my Melange, and swirl what’s left of it. “It’s fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is,” I say. “It’s just not a satisfying one.”
Theo considers that. “Anyone you’re interested in?”
“Sometimes,” I say carefully. “Sometimes it gets as far as a second drink.”
“And then?”
“And then it doesn’t,” I say. “Which is apparently a theme.”
He doesn’t react straight away. He just gives me a small nod, like he’s filing it away rather than poking at it.
“You happy with that?” he asks.
