Theo drops his rag, and a wrench clatters to the floor. He crosses the space in three quick, frantic strides, his hands closing around my upper arms to steady me. The contact sends a warm, electric current straight through my system.
“Careful,” he murmurs. His voice is low and rough. Despite the grease on his hands and the motor oil in the air, I still catch that familiar scent of cedar and something warm and clean beneath it.
I hadn’t realized until this second how much I’ve been starving for his touch even though it’s only been about twenty-four hours. I don’t want him to let go. I wish I could just hit pause and stay here in his arms where there are no headlines, Mr. Harris, or any other problems to worry about. But that isn’t my call. It’s Theo’s. He asked for space, and the least I can do is respect that.
He releases me a moment later and steps back, dragging both hands through his hair and leaving dark grease streaksacross his forehead. “You shouldn’t have come all this way,” he says staring at me as if he’s trying to confirm I’m not an apparition.
“I had to.” I choose my next words carefully. “You had so much dumped on you. I was worried. Especially when I didn’t hear from you.”
“I’m sorry. My mobile... I think it was crushed in the lobby, or my father’s security took it. I didn’t realize until I was driving here that I was cut off from everyone.” He lets out a short, humorless breath.
There’s no anger in his eyes now. “I realized on my long drive here how badly I’ve handled things,” he continues. “Not just today. For a long time.” He glances over my shoulder toward the farmhouse. “It shouldn’t have taken all this for me to stand up to my father. Or to admit to my nan that trying to keep her promise was slowly killing me.”
My chest tightens, but I don’t interrupt.
“And I definitely should’ve understood how my words would land with you in that lift.” He looks back at me, his gaze intense. “When I said I needed time, I thought I was being careful. I thought I was giving us room to breathe.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize that to you, it sounded like I was stepping back. I didn’t realize it sounded like a goodbye.”
“Itdidsound like you were pulling away.”
His jaw tightens. “That’s the last thing I wanted you to feel.” He rubs a hand over his face, then drops it. “The truth is, I wasn’t trying to decide whether I wanted you. That part was never in question.”
My breath catches.
“I care about you, Kaori,” he says, quieter now. “That never wavered. Not for a second.” He pauses before continuing. “What I panicked about was whetheryouwould still want me.”
I stare at him, confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“When you told me who you really were,” he says, his eyes searching mine, “all I could think was that sooner or later, you were going to realize I wasn’t enough. My father was partially right. I’m not the kind of man a woman like you is meant to end up with.” He gives a rueful, lopsided shrug. “So instead of letting you see that I was terrified, I shut down.”
“Theo, if I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t be standing in a drafty shed in Devon,” I say. “You are exactly the man I want.” I take a steadying breath. “I don’t care about titles. I care about the man who eats chocolate pretzels and watchesThe Officewith me. I care about the person who takes care of me when I’m falling apart.” My voice softens. “I care about being happy. Money and crowns mean absolutely nothing to me.”
“You make it sound very simple,” he says finally.
“It is,” I reply. “You’re the one who’s making it complicated.”
“I think,” he says slowly, “somewhere along the way, I started believing love was something I had to earn. That if I didn’t hit every mark—if I wasn’t beyond reproach—I’d lose the people who mattered.”
His gaze holds mine. “I’m a grump in the mornings. I travel too much. I’m relentless and demanding.” His gaze holds mine, searching. “I’m deeply flawed, Kaori. But I have a lot of love to give . . . if you’ll let me.”
I don’t answer with words. I step closer, closing the distance until there’s barely an inch of air between us. “You don’t have to be perfect,” I whisper. “You never did. I just need you to be you.”
I reach out, lacing my fingers through his. “I just need to know that when things get hard, you won’t disappear on me. Let me stand next to you, even when you’re still figuring things out.”
His breath stutters. “I can do that. I don’t want to shut you out again. And if I start to...” A corner of his mouth twitches. “You have my full permission to call me on my nonsense.”
“Oh, I was going to do that anyway.” I huff a quiet laugh, and finally, the tension breaks.
He closes the last inch of space between us and lifts both hands to my face, his palms warm and rough from work. His thumb sweeps a trembling line across my cheek. We lean into one another and his lips meet mine.
The kiss is slow at first, like we’re relearning the shape of us and placing all the jagged edges of a broken glass back together. Which we are. Every fear, every misunderstanding, every painful moment from the elevator and after dissolves between us.
Theo exhales softly against my lips. His hands rise, threading into my hair with a tenderness that steals my breath. His fingers move slowly, brushing through the strands as if memorizing their texture.
My hands slide up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palms. His skin is warm through the thin fabric of his dress shirt. My eyes flutter closed as Theo deepens the kiss. I feel his lips part as he draws a soft breath against mine before he presses in again. His other hand settles at my waist, pulling me closer.
I soak in every moment, not taking anything for granted. As we slowly break apart, our foreheads stay pressed to one another.
In a throaty voice, he says, “I can’t promise that I won’t mess this up again.”
