Wiping the corner of my mouth, I sat up straighter. Nolan didn’t move to open the door. I turned when it opened on its own. Theo stood under his own red umbrella, dressed in a gray fitted suit.
“Hi.” He smiled at me. His green eyes looked so clear, so happy to me.
“Hi.” Stepping out, I reached for my bag, however he got to it first.
“Let’s go inside—”
“Theo.”
He paused, facing me. “What?”
“Can you just kiss me for a second?”
I didn’t have to ask twice. His lips were on mine. He didn’t try to shove his tongue down my throat. Instead, he wrapped one arm around my back, pulling me close to him, and kissed me gently. It was way better than I could imagine. All I could smell was cinnamon spice and the rain. All I could feel was him.
I rested my head on his chest.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“I’m a thousand and one things, but okay isn’t one of them. I like you, Theo. I want to be with you. But no matter how hard I try, I feel like I’m failing at everything. I keep thinking that maybe if I dance or play again, I’d go back to the old me, that I’ll be okay, but I don’t know.”
“Felicity.” He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ears. “You don’t have to figure out everything right this moment, do you? What do you want right now? Don’t think of tomorrow or the day after that. What do you want to do?”
“Anything with you,” I answered without hesitation.
He led me inside. It was just like I remembered it: massive, classical, high ceilings with white crown molding. On the walls were all different kinds of paintings. It kind of reminded me of some palace in England or France. Letting go of his hand, I spun around.
“I love your house,” I whispered just as my stomach growled.
“Thank you,” he laughed, pulling me along. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I had Léon make us something.”
“I don’t know. I have a very strict diet, you know,” I mocked as we skipped past the stairs toward the back.
“Don’t worry. He’s taken that into account.”
Of course he had. Leave it to Theo to take care it of it all. When he stepped into the kitchen, which looked like it belonged in some showroom, he put my bag on the counter, along with his umbrella. I followed his every step, from the double doors of the refrigerator to the stainless steel oven. His coat jacket was off somewhere, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. His hair was a little damp from the rain, a few drops of water sliding down his neck and back.
“It should take five minutes to heat up… What?”
I shrugged. “I’m here with you again, even when I said I wouldn’t come back. I’m glad and kind of frustrated with myself.”
He wiped his hands with a towel, placing it on the counter before reaching for me. He spun me in his arms and lifted me, kissing me again as gently and passionately as before. Wrapping my arms around his neck, he stopped pulling back, placing me on top of the kitchen island.
“What do you want to drink?”
“Wine—”
“Let me rephrase the question. I have water, juice, and lemonade. What do you want?”
“Water.” I pouted, and he grinned, kissing me again. He took the water, and I lay back against the cold table. When I did, I noticed the ceilings had flower petals painted in on the edges. I suddenly felt hot again.
“I didn’t think you liked art so much,” I said.
“I honestly don’t really.” He placed the bottle beside me.
“What?” I turned to him.
He looked at the ceilings. “I didn’t buy this house for me. I bought it for my mother. This was where she worked during the summer. I would sit on this kitchen island, and she would be on her hands and feet, washing the floors. When I offered to help, she told me to do my homework if I wanted to help her. She worked day and night here until her disease wouldn’t let her. The former owners moved to France, and I bought it when I was twenty. They didn’t recognize me and didn’t remember my mother. I come here whenever I want to be reminded of her and everything she went through for me. Part of me wishes I could tell her it’s her house now, and she should kick her feet up.”
“So that’s why, when your brother Arty threw a party here for people looking to support themselves through other people, you were so pissed off.” I could only imagine how that must have looked for him and why his aunt had wanted to make sure Arty apologized. I felt guilty for even attending. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met him. “I’m not sure your mother would have liked me.”