Page 61 of You, with a View

He’s walking away before I can open my mouth.

Paul walks over. For a beat, we look at the door Theo just disappeared through.

I collapse into my seat. “ ‘Not a big deal,’ huh?”

Paul’s expression is torn. “It’s complicated, Noelle. Teddy tends to shut down when he’s struggling.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed. He’s an icon among mysterious men.”

Paul sits across from me, taking a sip of beer before settling his gaze on me. “It’s hard for him.”

I raise an eyebrow, likego on.

He lets out a sigh. “It’s a symptom of the house Theo grew up in, unfortunately. And the house his dad grew up in, too. After Anne and I divorced, I traveled quite a bit, and I wasn’t around as much as I could have been. It hurt Sam deeply, and he overcorrected with Theo. He pushed himself into every part of Theo’s life from the time he was old enough to do so.”

I think of my own dad, who never missed a tennis match, celebrated my wins with enthusiasm and commiserated my losseswith frozen yogurt from Woody’s and big, squishy hugs. Who’s always let me be exactly myself.

There are ways in which I’ve competed against Theo without knowing, and ways I’ve won without realizing.

“Teddy has always been keen to earn his father’s approval, because Sam holds back on praise,” Paul continues. “Theo’d reach a goal, and there’d be five more waiting for him.”

“Maybe him investing in Where To Next was a bad idea.”

Paul lets out a frustrated breath in agreement. “I warned Teddy, but he needed the money, and his dad wanted to help him. Deep down, Theo translated that help into pride for his accomplishment.”

“Are these all things he’s told you?”

“A bit of it, but most of it I know because I helped raise the kid.” He sighs, pushing away his beer glass. “Theo’s not an open book. It must frustrate you because you are.”

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. God knows I have my secrets. My parents texted on the family thread this morning asking how the trip was going, and I could barely get my fingers to type a response.

Paul, oblivious to my inner turmoil, goes on. “I’m telling you this because Theo shares things with you.”

I blink over at him, disbelieving. “Barely.”

“More than you think. You have a bond because of me and Kat, but you also have your own. I see it.”

The eager look on his face is why our kiss in Vegas has to be the first and last. There’s an intimacy being built between us, though it’s very much one step forward, two steps back, and Paul sees it. He’s tied some hope to it, likeIcan somehow contribute to Theo’s happiness. But I can’t. I can’t even contribute to my own.

Theo pushes the door open, pocketing his phone. Even withthe glower on his face, he’s a light source. I lift toward him like a thirsty flower.

He walks right past us to the rickety bar with the equally rickety bartender behind it. I don’t hear what he tells the guy, but a minute later a shot glass is set in front of him.

Theo drinks the shot. It’s not a quick toss down his throat; it’s a slow pour, like he’s shoring himself up.

I can almost feel the burn in my throat, racing down my stomach, the acidic turn there from bad news and alcohol. I got drunk the day I was laid off, threw up in the bushes outside the apartment I had to move out of a month later.

I’m out of my seat before I can overthink it. Across the sticky floor before I can decide what I’m going to say. He helped me earlier when the grief got too heavy. Maybe I can do the same.

Theo gives me a sideways glance as I lean up against the bar, ultra casual, my eyes moving over the liquor bottle display. “You want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay, I expected that. I did see Radiohead on the jukebox if you’re in the market for a mood-enhancing soundtrack.” I pull two quarters out of my pocket, letting them rest on my palm. “On me.”

He stares down at the quarters. “I don’t need this.”

“What? Money for your favorite sad boy music?”

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