“Yes, she did,” Theo says.
I shoot him a glare, and it’s as effective as if we’ve actually hurtled back in time. We used to exchange endless jabs in class, on the tennis court where we both played varsity, at parties. Through unfortunate luck, we liked the same people, so our paths crossed constantly. Murdering him with my eyes is muscle memory. His returning smirk is, too. He loved riling me up.
I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. I’m an adult, despite my circumstances proving the opposite, and he’s not going to get to me. Even though the dimple popping in his cheek—and the heat blooming in mine—says otherwise.
“Haven’t seen that smile in a while, Teddy,” Paul says with a grin the same shape as Theo’s, dimple and all.
Like that, all expression drops off Theo’s face. “I’m going to grab another coffee.” He lifts his chin at me. “What do you want?”
“Nothing.” The last thing I need is caffeine. Or to owe Theo Spencer anything.
He lifts his shoulder in a shrug, then walks off. Paul and I both watch him go before turning to each other.
“Sorry about that. We have some, um, history.”
“So I saw,” he says, his tone amused and thoughtful.
I hold out my hand. Steady now. “I’m Noelle, Kathleen’s granddaughter.”
He takes my hand in his. His skin feels fragile, but his grip is strong. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. You look just like her.”
My throat goes instantly tight. “Thank you.”
“I was so sorry to hear she passed.”
He stutters over the last word, as if it’s from a language he doesn’t know. It still feels foreign in my mouth, too, and like that, the connection between us is set. A gossamer thread from his heart to mine.
There’s a handkerchief in his outstretched hand before I realize my eyes are welling. I take it, pressing it to my face. The handkerchief is timeworn and smells like fabric softener. Something about it makes me feel like I’ve been punched right in the sternum. I miss Gram so much I can’t breathe.
A gentle hand at my elbow guides me to a chair, and I plop down inelegantly.
I pat at my cheeks, pulling my canvas bag onto my lap. “I don’t really know where to start.”
Paul runs a hand down his checkered dress shirt. There’s a gold band on his ring finger. Looks like he found his happiness, too.
“What would you like to know?”
I let out a breath. “Everything.”
He rubs a hand along his cheek, appraising me. “That’s a tall order, Noelle.”
“Is it? I know nothing. I don’t know how long you were dating. Or how you met. Or where you met.”
I reach into my bag, extracting the pictures Gram kept, along with the letter. When I slide it across the table toward him, he presses his palm over it. I can almost see him transporting back to that time when he picks up the letter, unfolding it carefully.
He looks up at me, eyebrows raised. “She kept this?”
“Yeah, I found it in a sealed envelope. The pictures were with it.”
“Did you find others?”
I shake my head, then lean forward as he puts the letter down. “Were there more?”
He sighs, gazing down at a photo he’s picked up. “Oh yes. We loved to write each other letters during our time together. I sent her several once she went home, though I’m not at all surprised she didn’t keep them. I’m much more surprised she kept this one.”
“Went home?”
He flips another photo toward me with a chuckle. They’re perched on the edge of a stone wall, Gram leaning back into him with a wide smile, her eyes lowered coyly to the ground. “We met at school. This photo was taken there, at UCLA.”
I frown. “My grandma didn’t go to UCLA. She didn’t go to college until her kids were older.”
Paul’s expression drops back into its previous sadness. “She did go. She just didn’t finish.”
Leaning back in my seat, I take that in while Paul continues to shuffle through the photos. It’s another secret revealed, a small piece of what is a much bigger puzzle than I anticipated.
A bottle of fancy sparkling water is set unceremoniously on the table, interrupting my thoughts. I blink down at it, then turn to Theo as he slides into his seat. His jean-clad knee knocks into my bare one before he adjusts his position to put more space between us.
“What’s this?”
He leans closer conspiratorially. He smells so good I want to yell, like firewood and a hint of something sweet. “Don’t tell me I have to explain what water is, Shepard.”
My gaze strays to Paul, who’s watching us with mirth in his eyes. I press my lips together, swallowing down the fourteen rude things waiting to launch from my mouth.
“Thanks,” I manage. “Let me pay you back.”
“I’ll survive,” Theo says, his mouth quirking.
Right. He’s the CFO at Where To Next, a travel app that acts as a concierge for anything from à la carte to full-service travel packages. Flights, places to stay, experiences, you name it. God knows I’ve used the app to book one of their screaming off-season deals. Once, Sadie, Thomas, and I stayed in a monster cabin in Tahoe for practically nothing. Theo is also a cofounder—he and two of his college friends started it—and must be sitting on a pile of money. I made the mistake of looking him up on LinkedIn once, not realizing he could see I’d viewed his profile, and read through a ton of gushy articles he was tagged in. I still remember the private message he sent me the next day:
Looking for something specific, or is this just run-of-the-mill stalking?
It took everything in me not to delete my profile. That I still get notifications for any mentions of him in the news will go to the grave with me.
I pull a five from my bag and slide it toward him. Then I push the bottle of water off to the side, turning my attention back to Paul. “I had no idea she attended UCLA. So you didn’t meet in Glenlake?”
He shakes his head, taking in the spread of memories on the table. “We had an art history class our sophomore year. She hated me from the start. Thought I was a cocky SOB. Which I was.” At this, he winks and I grin, charmed. “I didn’t think too highly of her at first, though she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Whip-smart and she wasn’t afraid to show it. I was intimidated by her, so I needled her a lot.”
“Needled?”
“Tried to get a rise out of her,” Paul says, grinning. “She didn’t like that much.”
I laugh, imagining it. “She was feisty.”
“Sounds familiar,” Theo says into his cappuccino.
I twist in my seat, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Feisty is the word you’d use to describe me?”
He blinks innocently, and I get momentarily distracted by his long, curled lashes, the tiny freckle underneath his left eyebrow. “Can confirm it starts with an f.”
Releasing an impatient breath, I turn back to Paul. “Sorry, go on.”
“We got off to a bumpy start until one of her best girlfriends started dating my fraternity brother. Once she was forced to socialize with me, we discovered we were both from the Bay Area. I grew up here in the city.” He traces his finger over one of the photos. “It was a simple way to connect, but it led to us striking up a friendship that turned fond very quickly. We started dating not long after.”