Chapter 3 - THE ECHOES OF THE POOL
The entrance to the restaurant was exactly as horrifying as I had imagined.
Waiters stopped mid-pour,
women in pearls dropped their forks,
and the Maître d’ looked like he was contemplating a career change.
But Theodore walked in with his head held high,
his hand firmly on the small of my back,
guiding me through the sea of judgment as if I were royalty.
We were seated at a central table,
the most visible spot in the house,
and I felt every eye in the room burning into my oversized hoodie.
“Wine?”
Theo asked,
completely unfazed by the whispers erupting around us.
“I think I need something stronger,”
I muttered,
staring at the heavy silver cutlery.
He ordered a bottle of the most expensive red on the menu,
and as the sommelier poured it with a trembling hand,
Theo leaned across the table.
“Do you remember the summer before I left for boarding school?”
he asked,
the question catching me off guard.
I nodded slowly,
the memory hitting me like a physical blow.
We had been at the pool,
the sun setting in shades of orange and pink.
I was fifteen,
awkward and perpetually blushing,
and he was eighteen,
a god in swim trunks.
“We were at the edge of the deep end,”
I said,
my voice barely a whisper.
“You told me I had a leaf in my hair.”
“And I leaned in to take it out,”
Theo continued,
his gaze never leaving mine.
“I was going to kiss you,
Clare.”
The admission hung in the air,
thicker than the scent of the wine.
“Why didn't you?”
I asked,
the nine-year-old question finally escaping my lips.
“Because your father walked out with a tray of lemonade,”
Theo said,
a dry laugh escaping him.
“And because I realized that if I kissed you then,
I would never be able to leave.”
“And I had to leave,”
he added,
his expression darkening for a moment.
“I had to build something of my own before I could ever be worthy of a girl like you.”
I looked down at my pajama pants,
the irony of his statement hitting me.
“Worthy of this?”
I gestured to my clothes.
“Theo,
I dressed like this because I thought you were just another boring businessman my dad was trying to sell me to.”
“I know,”
he said,
shrugging casually.
“I saw your best friend’s Instagram story earlier today.”
“She posted a photo of your ‘Operation Horrible Outfit’ plan.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
That traitor.
That absolute,
backstabbing genius of a best friend.
“So you knew?”
I gasped,
feeling the full weight of my humiliation.
“You knew I was trying to ruin the date?”
“From the moment I saw the socks,”
Theo admitted,
a wide,
genuine grin breaking across his face.
“But I also knew that the girl underneath those glasses is the only woman I’ve ever wanted to talk to.”
“I didn't come here because our fathers made a deal,”
he said,
reaching across the table to take my hand.
“I came here because I asked for this meeting months ago.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to grow up,
Clare.”
The restaurant around us seemed to fade away.
The whispers stopped,
the judgment vanished,
and for a moment,
it was just us.
But then,
the Maître d’ approached our table,
clearing his throat with a sound like sandpaper on wood.
“Pardon me,
Mr. Ashford,”
he said,
looking at me with pure disdain.
“But we have received several complaints regarding the... attire of your guest.”
“Is that so?”
Theo said,
his voice turning ice-cold in an instant.
He stood up,
his presence filling the room with an intimidating energy.
“Then I suppose we should take our business elsewhere.”
“And by the way,”
Theo added,
looking the man directly in the eye,
“I happen to own the building this restaurant is in.”
“I think I’ll be reviewing your lease tomorrow morning.”
He grabbed my hand,
his grip firm and protective,
and led me out of the room.
I felt a surge of triumph,
not because of the money or the power,
but because he was standing up for the girl in the pajama pants.
As we reached the sidewalk,
the cool night air hitting my face,
I realized that the "ugly" girl was gone.
I felt powerful.
I felt seen.
May you like
And for the first time in nine years,
I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
