Was that pathetic? They were already eighteen years old.
Theo was grateful that Callie didn’t immediately launch into how she’d gotten Juliet off her back. Instead, they spoke happily about other things, about Theo’s recipe and Callie’s recent art project. Her mural had been written about in the newspaper, and they’d included a photograph of Callie, along with a brief sentence at the very bottom: Theo Maddox helped Callie create her vision on the cafeteria wall.
“They should have said more about you!” Callie laughed, her fork raised. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it.” Theo grinned and tasted his meal, which was far and away the best thing he’d ever made—savory with a Mediterranean flair.
Just as he’d imagined she would, Callie gushed about the food with specificity and poetry. She admired each herb he’d added. She talked about the texture and the aftertaste.
When their plates were clean, Callie and Theo stood at the sink and cleaned the dishes. They were quiet, as though the intensity between them had frozen their tongues. Theo felt terrified, although he couldn’t fully name why. Something big was coming, he felt. Their lives were on the brink of changing forever. And he didn’t know if he had it in him to embrace all of its madness.
But before he chickened out, he cut the water, wiped off his hands, and embraced Callie. She looked so sweet, her blue eyes enormous and watchful. He kissed her and felt her go weak in his arms. His own knees threatened to collapse. For three beautiful, life-altering seconds, they knew only one another.
And then, they broke apart and gazed at one another again. Theo ached to do it again. But instead, he whispered, “Callie? Will you go to prom with me?”
Callie let out a delicious giggle. “Of course I’ll go to prom with you,” she said.
Later, she’d tell Theo that she never thought anyone would ask her. And much later, Theo would hate himself for having asked at all, as it changed everything forever. And they could never go back.
13
Present Day
It was hard to believe it, but after all these years apart, here she was: Juliet Harper, standing in Theo’s empty restaurant. Theo had been in the back room, scrubbing the walk-in fridge and listening to podcasts. He’d forgotten to lock up, if only because he hadn’t expected anyone to come in tonight.
But there had been a noise, the sound of a door. And now, here he stood, removing his headphones and gazing across the restaurant at Juliet Harper, the one who’d gotten away. Sort of.
Juliet looked just as awkward as Theo felt. At nearly forty, she still looked young and healthy, but there was a sorrow in her eyes that broke Theo in half. That sorrow had taken the place of her previous determination. This was not the teenager who’d told everyone she was headed off to become a star.
This was a woman who’d been through a great deal.
This was also a woman who hadn’t known she was coming into his restaurant.
“I don’t know what to say,” Juliet offered, raising her shoulders.
Theo hadn’t said anything yet. He walked toward her, touching his hair. “Happy Fourth of July,” he finally offered.
Juliet gestured out the window. “I was watching the fireworks. I thought of you, actually.”
Theo nodded gravely. Those were the same docks where he, Callie, and Juliet had always watched the fireworks, sipping wine they’d nipped from one of their parents, and maybe pretending they were more tipsy than they really were.
“Did you watch?” Juliet asked.
Theo nodded, but it wasn’t true, not really. He’d peeped a minute, tops, of the fireworks before going back into the kitchen and burrowing himself away. He didn’t allow himself beauty anymore. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of sitting, watching, and feeling alive. His restaurant was failing. Ben was gone, and he had no answers, not yet.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “This is your restaurant.”
Theo laughed.
“I love it,” Juliet said, her eyes scanning the dirty walls, the crooked chairs, and the flickering OPEN sign outside.
“No, you don’t,” Theo said.
Juliet’s eyes bugged out slightly. She hadn’t expected him to call her out. Theo felt courage, billowing through his chest. Was that a smile playing out across her lips?
“I don’t have menus,” Theo said, deciding that he didn’t want to treat her too kindly. “I was about to close up, actually.”
“Sure. Yeah. I can get out of here. As soon as my, um, friend gets out of the bathroom.” She searched the space behind Theo, as though her friend were a ghost, hovering.
