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Theo was blowing up her phone. Her joy over the farmhouse was his, too. Her stress over returning to their home was his stress, too. And her thick hatred for her father was Theo’s mission.
“You can’t just take it lying down,” he whispered to her as they lounged in her bedroom—her almost former bedroom—upstairs. Briar was taking a late nap. The boys were zoning out to TV. Her mom was packing, and Gretchen knew that any minute Maggie would appear in her doorway, hands on hips, acid on her tongue that Gretchen better get her butt downstairs and help, now!
She turned to face Theo, who sat in her desk chair. A third of a scarf sat on her lap, its dutiful crochet hook in her right hand, yarnless for now. She’d been overjoyed to find the project that she’d been frantically searching for the day before. “What do you mean? We aren’t taking anything lying down? We’re packing and moving,” she replied evenly.
“I mean your mom should sue him or something. Or have a cop find him and drag him back here to... to...”
“To what, Theo? Men leave their wives and families all the time. My mom’s dad left. Your dad left. They leave.” It was a great opportunity to give Theo a meaningful look, or even a searching one. But Gretchen couldn’t stand to lock eyes. “Don’t become a husband and father. It does something to men,” she added lightly, jabbing her hook into the end of a row on the scarf, pinching the line of yarn with the other hand, and wrapping it into place with a sigh of satisfaction.
“My dad didn’t leave,” Theo replied, standing from his seat. “My parents split up. Remember? Or are you too focused on your own drama?”
Gretchen looked up from her lap, shocked, to see Theo turn and leave the room. “Theo, wait!” she called.
Though he didn’t turn around, his long legs slowed to a stop at the beginning of the hallway.
Obviously she was focused on her own drama. How dare he suggest that she was being selfish? And anyway, his life was literally perfect. Before he walked away again, she inhaled a sharp breath then spat, “Yeah I’m focused on my own drama. Because I actually have some. There is literally nothing wrong in your life, Theodore Linden. You’ve got it all.” He began to turn, and she snapped her mouth shut. Too far. She’d taken it way too far.
“I’m sorry,” she began, meeting his soft gaze.
But he didn’t seem angry. He seemed sad. “I’ve got it all? That’s what you think?” he began, turning to face her fully, his arms crossed over his chest.
Gretchen swallowed hard and peered at him, shaking her head slowly. She’d never seen Theo like this. Take-charge and brusque. Defiant and steely-eyed. Her skin prickled and her blood pooled in her chest, making breathing harder work than it had been just moments before.
Theo shook his head, too, mimicking her. “You’re right, Gretchen. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. You’re right. Life is easier for me right now. But I can promise you one thing. I don’t have it all. Because I don’t have you.”
And with that, he turned and left.
Gretchen heard him stomp down the staircase, say something to her mother, and then fade into the echoing chambers of the downstairs.
It never occurred to her that Theo liked her.
Mostly, it never occurred to her that she liked him back.