I feel a tingle with that special awareness that pulses through me when he grows serious about us. I know he was on the fiancé website because of a dare, but why is he determined to marry? And not marry for love? Because of his father’s infidelities?Why does it matter so much to him?
“‘Rule Number Six: Renley hopes that Theo helps her with her candy shop, because she understands what it means to feel proud of something.’ This one means a lot to me, Renley. Know that I’m here for you, every step of the way. You let me know what you want done, and I’m your guy, even if you have to hold my hand while doing it. I want to be a part of this. For you.”
“I can use the extra help, so I appreciate it.”
He curtly nods. “‘Rule Number Seven: Theo and Renley need to practice healthy communication. Meaning she will answer histexts, but he needs to also be upfront and honest.’ You got it, love. Healthy communication is the key to success.”
“Okay, this isn’t an after-school special.”
He chuckles. “‘Rule Number Eight: The candy shop is the most important thing in Renley’s life right now and she can’t be distracted from pursuing her goal of making it a success.’ As much as it pains me to say this, I know that it goes candy shop, then me as a close second. I wouldn’t step aside for anything else—just know that.”
“Okay,” I say with an eye roll, even though I appreciate the sentiment.
“‘Rule Number Nine: Renley has a tough time forming bonds with men given her relationship with past men in her life. She has a hard time trusting them and giving them a chance to have any part in her life. Theo needs to know her reluctance is not against him, but from having to mend the scars left on her heart—not really a rule, just an understanding.’” He reaches out and takes my hand in his. “I know how a family member can leave battle wounds on your heart. So I get this.”
“Thank you,” I say softly, knowing that’s the truth.
“‘Rule Number Ten: Renley doesn’t want to be hurt by Theo.’” His thumb strokes my knuckles. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Renley. That’s not my intention. My intention in coming here was to get married, but now that I’m here and understand the woman I matched with, I’m here to get to know you.” He clears his throat and then presses on. “‘Rule Number Eleven: Renley and Theo should just be friends.’”
He sets the list on the counter and then brings his hand to my cheek, the intimate touch making me feel emotional for some reason. I put my heart on that paper, and he didn’t diminish my feelings.He affirmed them. Me.
“I want to be your friend too, Renley. But I also want to get to know you more. I want other things, but if it’s friendship youcan give me now, then friendship it is.” He rubs his thumb over my cheek. “It will be hard…like my dick was last night”—I snort so hard, I feel a droplet of snot fly out of my nose—“but I can be friends.”
“Why are you the way that you are?”
His hand drops from my cheek and I immediately regret asking to be friends because I like the way his warm palm feels on my skin. I like the way he looks at me when he’s touching me.
“Sarcasm and humor have helped me become numb to the world around me. I don’t recommend it as a survival tactic, but sometimes we do what we have to do.”
His comment makes me curious, because he’s spoken of his past with negativity, but it almost seems like he’s needed humor to make it through his day-to-day life.
“Do you mean that?” I ask. “That it’s a survival tactic?”
He opens up my hoagie for me. “Yeah. Never living up to my father’s standards is less than ideal in my world, and he’s let me know it.”
“Would he hurt you?” I ask, stomach tying in knots from the thought of it.
Theo just shrugs. “When I was younger, he took advantage of his larger size on occasion. As I grew up and he realized that he couldn’t have the upper hand, he verbally insulted me instead. There is nothing loving about that man, but if you were an outsider looking in, you’d believe him to be the picture-perfect father, because that’s the image we were forced to portray.”
“Oh my God, Theo.” I place my hand on his leg. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize or even think twice about it, because I don’t. I moved on?—”
“But have you?” I ask. “Because it seems like you’re still letting him affect you daily.”
He glances to the side, the truth sitting right there on the tip of his tongue. Question is, will he feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it?
After a few seconds, he says, “I was born into this world not as a son, but as an heir to the family title. My dad didn’t want children; he wanted a means to continue his own legacy. Being that I’m the firstborn, I was chosen as the lucky one. I was groomed and trained to become my dad one day, to take on the family title and keep the tradition alive. I’m reminded of that daily by him and the way my life has turned out, so yeah, who he is and what he does affects my every day.”
He pauses for a moment and then continues, “He will always be a part of my daily life, because he’s my father, but I can choose to let him sink his claws in or I can choose to shake it off. Some days are better than others, but I try to move past what he’s set forth in my life and try to create and manage my own experiences.”
“And is that what you’re doing with me? Creating and managing your own experience?”
“At first, yes, but now that I’m in the thick of it, I’d say I’m not creating or managing anything but rather just letting life be, letting myself go with the flow and experience the day-to-day.” I couldn’t imagine being in his shoes, having my life spelled out for me like he described, so to see him just…let it fall off his shoulders, as if it’s nothing, makes me wonder why I can’t do the same thing when it comes to my own baggage.
He picks up his hoagie and takes a bite, a smile pressing on his lips as he chews. “Shit, this is good.”
I pick up my hoagie as well and then study him for a moment, seeing him in a different light. A man so expertly put together on the outside but slowly cracking and breaking on the inside. He’s been so full of life, so full of joy and excitement, that I didn’t identify the hurt he’s been feeling. I’ve almost looked pastit given what I’ve been dealing with. But sitting here with him and pushing past his lighthearted facade, I can see it. I can see the hurt in his eyes. I can see the weariness, the exhaustion, the uncertainty. And even though our situations might not be the same, I can relate so much with those feelings. I can weirdly see myself in him.
