‘The chairs were Direk’s idea. He’s my interior designer.’ Theo shrugged, starting to walk towards her. ‘He’s trying to help me visualise living in these spaces.’
‘So, in this room he sees you relaxing with one friend and a canary?’
He chuckled. ‘Poor Direk’s been driven to desperate measures because I can’t make decisions.’
She met his gaze. ‘You’re the CEO of a global business. I think you’re underestimating yourself.’
‘Business is different; I find business decisions much easier.’
‘Maybe you just need time. Once you’ve lived in the house for a while, things will come to you.’
‘What constitutes a while?’
‘A few months...enough time to get a feel for things.’
He exhaled a long sigh, regarding her with a baleful expression.
She frowned. ‘How long have you been living here?’
He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Three years.’
‘Three...years?’
He nodded. ‘Bear in mind that I’m away a lot.’
She couldn’t think of anything to say. Coming home to this emptiness had to be dispiriting. From the outside he looked like a man who had everything, but instead... She glanced upward. Thick white beams. Why was he alone in this vast unfinished house? She wanted to ask him, but something stopped her.
She scanned the room again. ‘You need a jumping-off point...a piece of furniture you like, or an object, or a colour. Once you’ve got that, you can start pulling ideas together.’ She met his gaze. ‘You must have a favourite thing...?’
‘I don’t.’ He shrugged.
‘A favourite colour?’
His eyes swept over her. ‘I like the colours in your dress...’
She felt a blush coming and looked down at the subtle hues of plum, ochre and olive in the silk skirt of her dress. Why did it feel like he was saying something else? She cleared her throat, looked up. ‘Okay, well, that’s a start.’
He shifted on his feet. ‘Do you want to see the rest of the house?’
Maybe the other rooms wouldn’t be as bare. She smiled. ‘Absolutely.’
The rest of the house was hardly better than the first sitting room he’d shown her. The vibe was archaic minimalist, occasional items of furniture swamped by white space. There was a huge bed in the master bedroom, a vast wardrobe, a massive chest of drawers and through a peeling door, a sizeable en suite bathroom which looked starkly functional. With every step she took, she felt sadder and sadder. If a house reflected the personality of the person who lived in it, then Theo was either empty inside—which she knew he wasn’t—or he had no idea of who he was, which seemed so much worse. Maybe it was the size of the place that amplified its emptiness, but in it Theo seemed so alone, so lost, that it was hard not to ache for him, hard not to want to hold him.
In the kitchen, which at least had a sink, an old range, a table and chairs, she couldn’t hold back any longer. ‘Why did you buy this house?’
He set the kettle on the range. ‘It was an investment.’
Her throat closed. She’d been trying to reach out, but his reply had almost felt like a rebuff. She turned to look through the window. It was still raining, drops ticking against the glass, running down. She swallowed hard. She was being too sensitive. Projecting! The house was undoubtedly an excellent investment and just because she couldn’t imagine herself rattling around in it for three years didn’t mean that Theo minded. As he’d said, he was away a lot.
She folded her arms, paced slowly towards the table, watching him. He was busy spooning coffee into a cafetière, getting cups out. What was Ash always saying? Men are from Mars, women are from Venus... Maybe he hadn’t been deflecting. Maybe he just hadn’t caught the drift of her question because she hadn’t phrased it properly.
She drew a breath, ignoring her thumping heart. ‘Theo, why are you alone?’
He paused for a beat, then turned around and leaned against the range. For a long second his eyes glittered with shards of something that looked like bitterness but as he held her gaze his expression softened. ‘I’m alone because my ex-wife soured the milk and it’s stayed sour for a very long time.’
It made sense. Not that he was divorced—far from it—but that he’d been married. What would turn a wife against a man like Theo? He was handsome, caring, protective. Clearly, he saw himself as the injured party, but then again everyone saw themselves that way. Hal would probably say that she hadn’t given him a chance to explain, that she’d thrown her engagement ring at him and cut him off completely.
She pulled out a chair, sat down at the table. ‘So the house. Was it...?’
‘No; it’s not a sad relic of my marriage. Eline and I divorced five years ago. I bought the house for myself because it’s on the best street in Amsterdam.’ He faltered, a glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes. ‘When I said it was an investment, I wasn’t talking about money...’ He pressed his palms to his thighs, smiling sheepishly. ‘The pathetic truth is that it’s a status thing.’ His gaze seemed to turn inwards. ‘I suppose I’ve never been able to shake off the poor kid’s desire for a smart address and a fast car...the feeling that in a house like this nothing bad could ever happen.’
She felt tears budding behind her eyes. He was confiding in her, trusting in her, and it was disarming; it made her want to wrap her arms around him.
He hooked his thumbs into his trouser pockets and cast his eyes around the kitchen. ‘The trouble is, now that I’ve got the address, I don’t know what to do with the inside.’
She stowed her emotions and took a steadying breath. ‘It’s a huge project but at least you’ve found some colours you like.’ She
