Page 158 of One Wealthy Wedding

I sit myself gingerly on the couch. I feel raw. Worn out and exposed. I want to hide inside my shell, but I promised Theo I’d hear him out. I’m going right back to my room after. He doesn’t deserve more than that.

I lift one of the tomatoes to my nose. The scent is warm and earthy.

“They smell like summer, don’t they?” Theo sits next to me, his arm spread along the back of the couch, his legs sprawled wide. A wicked king in his castle and close enough to touch. Not that I want to.

“They do. Where did you get them?”

He names one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.

“They sold you tomatoes? I didn’t know they did that.”

He gives me a smug, lazy smile. “They don’t. I called in a favor. They have the best tomatoes I’ve ever tasted. I wanted you to try them.”

My stomach leaps, even though I don’t want it to. He’s pursuing me. All part of his apology. It’s not real.

I pop one into my mouth, and the sweet flavor bursts over my tongue. “That’s good,” I say.

He dips his chin.

I busy myself making a plate. I don’t want to look too long at Theo. He’ll make me forget why I’m angry at him. It’s essential that I remember. I refuse to be sucked in again.

“You didn’t just call me here to eat tomatoes,” I say.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. You can eat your dinner and watch a movie, and I’ll sit here.” His voice is low and soothing. “Or I can tell you about how I messed up and how I’ll never do it again.”

My pulse beats in my throat. “Why?” My eyes cut to his. He looks predatory and focused.

“I never had a chance with you. And I’ll do anything to get one.”

“This is fake,” I tell him. It has to be fake.

“Not for me.”

My chest squeezes. “Theo—” I start.

“Don’t,” he says, his face pained. “Don’t tell me you don’t want me. I can’t—please, Cat. Hear me out before you decide.”

He looks so earnest, so agonized, that I nod. I believe him. This might have started as fake, but it’s not anymore. Our fight wouldn’t have hurt so much if it were fake. He pours us glasses of wine, taking his time fiddling with the opener and popping the cork, pouring it carefully and passing it to me. His hand is shaking.

My chest pinches. I might be angry at Theo, but I can hear him out.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For lashing out at you. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t know what you’d been through, and I harbored a lot of misconceptions about you for years.”

“I know,” I say softly.

“You were right, earlier, when you said I pitied myself. I was angry a lot when I was younger. My dad left when I was too young to remember him, and I always assumed I wasn’t enough.” He takes a ragged breath. “I thought you felt the same. Every time your father punished you, and you distanced yourself, I thought it was because you didn’t like me.”

My chest pinches. “No, Theo, never.” I shake my head.

“I know,” he says roughly. “My mom told me how you protected me. I didn’t deserve that.”

“You did,” I say, my eyes filling with tears. “I’d do it again.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His mouth twists with unhappiness. “I would have protected you, Cat. I would have done anything to help you.”

“I didn’t want you to know how awful my father was. I know you looked up to him at first.” I twist the wineglass in my hands. Theo idolized my father until he realized who he was deep down. “I didn’t want you to know what he thought of you. You were so proud as a teenager. And dealing with so much. It was better to take the punishment myself. And he—” I swallow. “I didn’t know if he would have hurt you.” My chest is tight with the memories, with the weight of my father’s awful words, his expectations, his pride.

“Cat,” Theo says hoarsely. “Sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He cups my jaw with one warm hand, presses my forehead to his. I can feel his lashes brush my skin. “I swear to you that he will never hurt you again. Or me. I’m strong enough to protect both of us now.” His voice is low and vicious, and I believe him.

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