Page 87 of One Wealthy Wedding

Instead, he’s still and watchful. “As a child?”

“Not just as a child.”

“Why?”

“My parents’ house was about control. Having it over me and what I represented.”

“The shares,” he murmurs, his mouth twisting. His green eyes are knowing and sad, shadowed in the pre-dawn light.

“The shares,” I confirm. “The most important thing in the world to my father. I started making my own clothes.” I refuse to be a sad, wilting flower about this, just like I refused at nineteen. I’ve always fought fire with fire, even if half the clothes I made were buried in the back of my closet and never worn.

“You made your own clothes?”

“Yep. Remember that bookstore you never wanted to go to on the edge of town? Books and Brew?”

He makes a face. “Books.”

“Don’t pretend, Theo,” I say tartly. “I know you can read. Anyway, I got a job there. I bought a sewing machine and some knitting needles, and I taught myself to knit and sew. My parents couldn’t really say anything, since it was an indoor hobby. I made beautiful things.”

Theo is looking at me with an unreadable expression, like he wants to figure me out. The scrutiny is too much.

“So yeah, that hasn’t been helpful for my MBA,” I say lightly. “Anyway, what about you?”

“What about me?” He lifts a brow.

“While I was making clothes, what were you doing?”

“Crafting the world’s third-longest beer bong,” he says immediately.

I give him a look. “Be serious.”

“I’m never serious.”

That’s not true. The boy I knew as a teenager loved deeply, felt keenly. Yes, he laughed, but he was serious too. When did Theo polish away those parts of himself?

“Give me one thing,” I say. “I’ve shared with you.” I raise a brow. “What did you do after college?”

“I drifted,” he says, looking unhappy at the memory. “I stuck around the summer after school, bartending in a shitty college bar. I slept with girls. I got in fights.” He bites into a chocolate croissant, chews, swallows. “And then I moved to New York.”

“Why?”

“I had a notion I’d make it here,” he says.

“I’d say that worked out.”

“Sure.” He shrugs, like he doesn’t think much of his accomplishments. “I always wanted a legacy.” He sounds wistful. “Something bigger than myself. A mark to leave on the world.”

“Kings Lane isn’t enough?”

“It’s not mine,” he says, eyes cutting to me. “I didn’t start it, and I love Jonah and Miles, but I want more. I don’t want my legacy to just be wealth.” He sighs. “The sun is rising. You’re going to miss it.”

I forgot about the sunrise while I was staring at him. I turn to watch the oranges and pinks of sunrise give way to the harsher light of morning, and as we admire it in silence, I start to think maybe I don’t know Theo very well at all.

28

Theo

“No, Kai. Not like that. We need to take into account pricing data from more than one source.” I point at the screen while my eighteen-year-old mentee carefully corrects the code. He’s usually a ball of energy, but not while he’s working.

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