“It’s tiring work,” he says, heaving out an overdramatic sigh.
“You have my condolences.”
I stand from the bed, stretching, and walk into the living room with Theo trailing behind me. My eyes widen at the sight of all the food he ordered.
“Are you feeding an army?” I ask while scanning the table.
He ordered from my favorite gluten-free sandwich place. Hoagies, chips, fries, and milkshakes crowd the table. The delicious aroma fills the room, making my mouth water.
“Are you trying to fatten me up?” I ask with an arched brow.
“No.” He smirks. “Just trying to make sure those curves stay curvy.” He trails his eyes down my body, and I swallow hard in response.
Shit. The easy way he jokes, the casual charm, it’s all part of who he is—yet I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t deserve it. I don’t deservehimbecause who would want to be with someone like me? Someone so ill and mentally fragile. . .
His phone rings and sends my thoughts scattering.
He locks eyes with me again, his lips curling into a half smile. “I should answer this.”
“Okay,” I sigh, pushing my thoughts and my mother’s venomous words out of my head, but they cling like barbed wire.
Theo disappears into his room, his laughter carrying through the space, and my heart clenches.
I hover near the table, the food not as enticing now as it was a moment ago. His laugh cuts through me. Soft but genuine—like whoever’s on the other end of the line means something. My stomach twists, an uncomfortable knot forming deep inside.
I try to shove the thought away, but it lingers, gnawing at the edges of my mind. Theo’s always had women in his life—beautiful women who are confident and sure of themselves. Women who don’t carry the kind of baggage I do.
I scroll through my phone, trying to distract myself, but every time I glance toward Theo’s room, the ache in my chest deepens. I can’t shake it—whatever I’m feeling, it can’t be rationalized away.
Minutes tick by, Theo’s voice filling the silence as I sink into the couch.It’s just a phone call. I shouldn’t feel this way.
But I do.
I close my eyes, and suddenly, it feels like the room is shrinking. My mind spins, connecting dots that may not even be there, but it’s too late. The seed of doubt is already planted, sprouting fast.
I grab a pillow and hug it closely, turning my head to look outside the grand window. The sunlight spills in, but it doesn’t reach the cold pit in my stomach. I’m still fighting with myself when Theo finally emerges from his room.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
I force a smile and nod, turning away from the window. “Yeah, just... thinking about work.”
He tilts his head, narrowing his gaze slightly. “You sure?”
I shrug, trying to push it down. “I’m fine, really. Let’s eat.”
Chapter Eleven
Theo
The phone callcouldn’t have happened at a worse time. Once I saw who was calling, I stifled a groan.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” I answer, forcing a flirtatious tone.
I met Amanda Nichols back in college; we recorded together regularly. But I stopped setting up shoots with her after I noticed her making snide remarks toward Wren. Before I could truly explain that to her, she left for LA, and we haven’t spoken in person since 2019.
“Theo Torres,” she purrs, her voice like velvet. “How are you?”
“If only you knew,” I mutter with a small smile, thinking about my new roommate situation.
