Page 86 of Booked for the Holidays
“Unfortunately,” Mac groans. “He was all weird about it. He got me what I needed but he tried to show me websites and stuff and it wassouncomfortable.”
I burst out laughing, burying my head in my hands. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I’m picturing Theo trying to talk to you about all of this and looking awkward as hell. Poor guy. Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to order some pizza. We’re going to eat the crap out of a tub of ice cream. We’re going to put on a good movie. Are you allowed to watch PG-13?”
“I’ve seenTitanic.Dad pretends to not like it, but he always cries at the end.”
I don’t know why the admission causes my heart to swell. I envision Mac and Theo sitting on the couch a few feet away from me. A bowl of popcorn between them. A discreet wipe of his eyes when he thinks no one is watching.
My mind stupidly inserts myself into the vision, on the opposite end of the couch, with Ziggy at our feet. I rub my chest at the thought and howniceit sounds.
Now I know why he looked so tired this morning. I wonder if every time he’s come into the shop a little dead on his feet, stubble on his cheeks, eyes barely open, he was up late, doing something for Mac. Helping with a school project. Offering her his best advice on heartbreaks. Nodding along with what outfits would look best for school picture day.
I think of Theo—handsome, kind Theo—then I remember he has this whole other part of his life I didn’t know existed for so long. Of all the sides of him I’ve learned about, I think the title ofDadmight be my favorite.
It’s the time in his life when he’s the most vulnerable and selfless. The time he relinquishes all control, handing it over to the five-foot-five girl next to me, not a single care in the world except her wellbeing.
I’m going to have to shake these feelings, locking them away as he possibly gets back out in the dating world with other women. I can’t hold onto the knowledge of him carrying a stack of pads and tampons to his car in the dead of night. I can’t imagine myself picking out a Christmas tree with him next year, debating the best options. I have to throw those memories away, into the wind, and not look at them again.
If Theo wanted to date me, he would date me.
And he’s not.
“Okay. We’re going to stuff our faces. We’re going to find the best romcom movie on TV. We’ll cry our eyes out then mend our hearts. How does all of that sound?”
Mac grins. “It sounds perfect.”
* * *
“Any questionsabout what I showed you?” I ask Mac, scooping out a large portion of ice cream and dropping it into a bowl.
“No. Thank god for you, BB. I cannot imagine Dad looking me in the eye and talking about all of this.”
“When I was in elementary school—maybe it was middle school, I forget—we had a week-long class on all of this body stuff. It was severely traumatizing. Be glad the internet exists these days.”
Mac’s nose wrinkles and she takes her helping of dessert. “Ew. That’s gross.”
“Disgusting,” I agree. “Ready for a movie?”
“Yeah, but this TV sucks. The one in Dad’s room is better.”
“Are we allowed to go in there?”
“He won’t care.” Mac waves me off, trotting down the hall. I sigh and drop the tub of ice cream back in the freezer. I grab my bowl and follow behind, pushing open the door to his room.
It’s soTheoin here. Clean. Organized. His shoes are lined up against the far wall, a mix of boots and sneakers. A rainbow of flannels hangs on the hook inside the closet door that’s half-closed. The scents of pine and wood linger in the air, on the rug, near his bathroom door. I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“BB? Are you okay?” Mac asks.
“Yeah,” I answer, joining her on the bed. A plaid comforter covers the mattress. On his bedside table is the book I recommended for him weeks ago, next to an extra pair of glasses. So many tiny pieces of him I might have to let go. I force a smile on my face and grab the remote. “Christmas movie or regular love story?”
THIRTY-FOUR
THEO
The date was,admittedly, not great.
It might have been my fault. I was distracted at dinner, offering half-hearted answers to questions. Shrugging when she asked me personal details about myself. Smiling slightly when she shared all her ambitions, but not talking about what I’m looking for in a partner.
On paper, the woman was damn near perfect. Sitting across from her though, something didn’t click.
