Chapter 4 - THE VULNERABILITY OF TRUTH
We didn't go back to the car.
Instead,
Theo led me down the street,
our shadows stretching long across the pavement.
“Where are we going?”
I asked,
my flip-flops making a rhythmic 'thwack-thwack' sound on the concrete.
“Nowhere in particular,”
he said,
his pace slow and relaxed.
“I just wanted to walk with you.”
The city was alive around us,
a symphony of honking horns and distant music,
but we were in our own bubble.
“You really own that building?”
I asked,
glancing up at him.
“I own a lot of things,
Clare,”
he said,
stopping by a small park fountain.
“But none of them matter as much as this moment.”
He turned to face me,
the moonlight reflecting in his eyes.
“Why did you try to scare me away?”
he asked,
his voice soft and searching.
“Was it just the arranged date,
or was it me?”
I sighed,
dropping my head so my grandmother glasses slipped down my nose.
“I didn't know it was you,”
I confessed,
fiddling with the strings of my hoodie.
“But even if I had... I think I would have been even more scared.”
“Why?”
“Because you were my first everything,”
I said,
the truth pouring out of me before I could stop it.
“My first crush,
my first heartbreak,
the first person who made me feel like I wasn't enough.”
Theo stepped closer,
his warmth radiating off him.
“Clare,
I never meant to make you feel like that.”
“But you left,”
I said,
looking up at him with watery eyes.
“You went off to become this incredible,
successful man,
and I stayed here,
just being the daughter of Arthur Montgomery.”
“I thought if I met you again,
you would see right through me.”
“I thought you would see that I’m still just that girl by the pool who didn't know what to do with her hands.”
Theo reached out,
gently taking the oversized glasses off my face.
He tucked them into his suit pocket,
leaving my vision clear and my soul exposed.
“I don’t see Arthur Montgomery’s daughter,”
he said,
his voice thick with emotion.
“I see a woman who is brave enough to look ridiculous just to prove a point.”
“I see a woman who has a fire in her that no amount of plaid flannel can hide.”
“And I see the girl I’ve been thinking about every single day for nine years.”
He reached out,
untying the messy bun at the top of my head.
My hair tumbled down around my shoulders,
wild and free,
catching the light of the streetlamps.
“There she is,”
he whispered,
his fingers lingering in my curls.
I felt a sob rise in my throat,
a mixture of relief and overwhelming love.
I had spent so long trying to protect myself from him,
trying to build walls out of ugly clothes and sarcastic comments.
But he had walked right through them.
“Theo,”
I started,
but he silenced me by pressing a finger to my lips.
“No more talking about the past,”
he said.
“And no more talking about the clothes.”
“Tonight,
I just want to be Theodore and Clare.”
“Can we do that?”
I nodded,
leaning into his touch.
“I’d like that,”
I said.
We sat on the edge of the fountain,
my pajama-clad legs dangling near the water,
and we talked.
We talked about the years apart,
about the things we had learned,
and about the things we were still afraid of.
For the first time in my life,
I didn't feel like I had to be perfect.
I didn't have to be the millionaire’s daughter or the fashion plate.
I could just be me,
in all my messy,
hoodie-wearing glory.
As the clock struck midnight,
I realized that the sabotage had been the best thing I had ever done.
It had stripped away all the pretense,
leaving only the raw,
beautiful truth between us.
Theodore Ashford didn't love the version of me that wore designer dresses.
He loved the version of me that tripped on the stairs.
And that,
May you like
I realized,
was the greatest treasure of all.
