“Great.” She flaps the tissues she’s clutching in both hands. “More salt on the wound.”
“Theo.” I close the space between us but stop at the porch when she holds up her hand.
“What do you need, Zak? Now really isn’t a good time.”
Fuck!“Theo, honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”
She scoffs as she wipes her eyes. “Nope. Nothing happened. I love crying so much I decided to do it all the time. I especially enjoy the way my eyes look like buttholes and my nose is redder than Rudolph. And I’m practically a pro at blowing snot bubbles now, so this is just fucking great.”
So much sass.
“Talk to me, honey, what’s—“
“Nothing,” she snaps. “Everything is fine and unless you’re back for the worry stones and dream catchers, I’m not sure why you’re here, so you should probably just leave.”
Damnit.
There goes my fucking plan.
And my heart, if we’re being honest.
Having Theo basically kick me out while she’s crying is like a goddamn knife to the chest.
Plus, she’s already a mess and I haven’t even told her shit yet.
“Theo, wait!” I clear the steps and bang my hand against the door she’s attempting to slam in my face. “I’m sorry.”
Another very dramatic eye roll. “For what, Zak? You didn’t do anything wrong. You saved me when I needed it and I made sure you didn’t die in your sleep, we’re even. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
I shake my head and sigh when she opens the door again. “There is and I’ll explain in a minute, but I need to know why you’re crying because if you don’t tell me I’m going to have a fucking heart attack.”
“I’m just having a really bad day, ok?”
“How?”
“I just am.”
“Theo, please. I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
She starts to sigh but it turns into a hiccup followed by a short sob and quiver of her lip. “I got two really shitty phone calls today. That’s all.”
“Not good enough, honey.”
Theo searches my face, looks me right in the eye and I can see the second she gives in. “Fine.” She takes a step to the side and opens the door wide enough for me to walk through. “I need a fucking drink anyway.”
Thank God.
I snatch the box off the porch and follow her in, watch Theo go directly for her wine rack that actually houses only one bottle of wine, one bottle of Ciroc vodka, and about twenty different and brightly colored umbrellas.
I’m telling you, this woman is fucking perfect; a sweet little enigma wrapped in glitter with a leather studded bow slapped on top.
I close and lock her door, don’t move from my spot and just keep watching as she grabs the vodka, twists off the top and takes a long, hard drink.
Fucking perfect.
“My mom died,” she blurts, her face scrunched from the way the liquor burns. “I got the call this afternoon.”
Shit. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Slowly I walk toward her as Theo slams another two shots. “I’m really fucking sorry, Theo.”
