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You, With a View(70)

Author:Jessica Joyce

I work hard to keep my cool, getting out a “Yes, that’d be great.”

Meanwhile, inside my body there are firecrackers going off and car alarms blaring. That I could have a potential job as I’m finishing this one is . . .

It’s everything I was too afraid to reach for before. Theo’s voice echoes in my head, smug and proud: I told you so. I’d give anything to hear it in person.

“Amazing!” Eunice chirps. “Well, then, I’ll let you get to the rest of your night. Thanks again for everything. You’ll be in touch with the final images? And let’s rereview your sponsored content schedule on Monday.”

“That sounds perfect.”

We exchange our goodbyes, and I walk to the elevator, restlessness growing in my chest.

It means something that Theo is the first person I want to call right now, doesn’t it? It’s his support I want. He’s given me so much in response to everything I’ve told him, and I know that’s real. I hate that he didn’t tell me what he was going through, but he didn’t hold himself back from me completely. I saw enough of him to fall in love. That’s real, too.

Paul told me it takes Theo three times as long to admit to his happiness, because he didn’t know he was allowed to have it. Now, I realize it must take him half as long to admit to his perceived failures, because that’s all he heard about.

I think of all the years I had Enzo’s voice in my head, telling me that I wasn’t good enough to be a photographer. That was after only a year of working with him, and the result was devastating and lasting. Theo’s dad has been telling Theo he isn’t enough his entire life. How deep must his voice be in Theo’s mind? In his heart? Did he hear that in my voice, too?

I think of my own family, who accept all my failures, perceived or real, with love and support. Who don’t judge me for it. When I went to Theo on Monday, I failed to recognize that, aside from Paul, he’s never had someone who accepts him for who he is. Who loves every corner of him, both bright and shadowed.

And then I think of his text from the other day: I want to be the person you said you need. I told him he already was, to trust that. But there’s so little he’s been able to trust, and now, not telling him why he should trust that feels like a grave error.

I exit the elevator, my heart thumping. I’m supposed to leave tomorrow morning, but there’s so much I need to tell him and none of it can wait.

My camera bag bounces against my hip as I speed walk down the hall, bursting into my room. I make a beeline for my phone, ignoring the texts from my parents, Sadie, and Thomas for now.

Instead, I pull up the text thread between Theo and me and start to type.

I meant it when I said you’re already the person I need, but I didn’t tell you why and I want you to hear how amazing I think YOU are.

I pause, embarrassingly out of breath from my dash down the hall and from fear and exhilaration, waiting to see if any text bubbles will pop up. There’s nothing, so I continue.

So much happened today. I took kickass photos. The marketing director loved me. She’s giving me a referral to someone in the city who may hire me. It was a pinch-me moment, a perfect one except for one thing—you’re not here for me to share it with. You were the first person I thought of calling. You’re the one I want to tell everything to. I don’t regret sharing what I did with you, even if it seemed like it on Monday. You make me feel safe. I just want that feeling for you.

My knees are shaking along with my hands. I sit on the edge of the bed, chewing at my lip. Still nothing. I take a deep breath and dive back in. God, this is so long. It’s turning into a—

A letter. A love letter. But I’m going to say the most important things right to his face.

I was supposed to come home tomorrow, but I’m driving home right now and I’m going to show up at your door. I know I said I was scared to give you any more of my secrets until you gave me something back, but these aren’t secrets. It’s just the truth. You have 3.5 hours to decide if you want to open the door when I knock.

He still doesn’t respond. No bubbles to indicate he’s even seen it, either rolling his eyes or with hearts in them. I need to see his face to determine which way this is going to go.

My bag is packed in minutes, fueled by the frantic pace of my heart, and I tow my suitcase behind me as I throw open the door.

“Fucking hell!” I shriek at the tall body in the doorway, reeling back. My heel catches on the edge of the suitcase and I’m tipping over backwards—

But Theo reaches out. He grabs me by the arm, holds on tight, and pulls me until I’m steady on my feet.

“Not the reaction I was hoping for,” he murmurs.

“Are you kidding me?” I pant out, dropping my purse and lowering my camera bag so my hands are free to check if he’s real. I press my palms to his chest, feeling the heavy, fast beat of his heart behind his ribs. “I was about to drive back to you!”

He smiles, but there’s anxiety behind it, the corners of his eyes tightening. “Beat you to it.”

“That’s so you,” I croak out around my thick throat.

“You invited me up here, remember?” he asks, stepping closer. “Or has that invitation expired?”

“N-no. Not expired.” Even with my hands on him, it’s hard to believe he’s here. “How did you find me?”

“Thomas and Sadie.”

Oh god. Thomas is going to be smug about this forever.

Theo’s expression turns solemn. “I have so much to say.”

“I do, too.” My fingers curl into his soft gray shirt, encouraging him to come closer. He does, the movement as tentative as the hope on his face. “I texted you a novel, basically.”

“I saw it right after I parked.”

“Theo, I—”

“Me first,” he interrupts, but it’s so gentle that my eyes flood. “Since I came all this way.”

“Typical of you to try to take first, but—” I break off with a smile when he laughs. “Go ahead.”

Theo sobers immediately. “I’m sorry for what I said on Monday and how I shut down. I’m sorry for not explaining myself better when I said our situations weren’t the same. I didn’t mean our job losses, Noelle. I meant what happened after them.”

I nod silently, so he knows I’m really listening.

He makes a frustrated noise from the back of his throat. “You have a strong support system, and I’m used to being alone. It’s . . . it’s been better for me, historically, to be that way and now my default is processing bad things by myself. It’s hard for me to trust that it won’t be used against me. I didn’t think you’d want me if you knew what had happened, so I thought I was delaying the inevitable by not telling you.”

“I do want you. No matter what.”

“I know. It took me a while to get there. I had to process what you said and realize that you want to be with me, even with the shit I’m going through.” He lets out a soft breath that stirs the hair at my temple. His words move over my heart the same way—a cool whisper that brings relief. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

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