‘The world no longer thinks you’re a hideous, mansplaining arse-wipe,’ Celeste said eloquently.
‘And the TV-viewing public knows who you are, now,’ he replied. ‘So we’re kind of done.’
‘Yeah. I guess we are.’
The pause that followed was just about long enough to give him a tiny bit of hope back. Enough to say, ‘Of course, if you wanted a last opportunity to laugh at me, I’m doing a freezing cold Boxing Day river swim in Henley tomorrow morning. I could pick you up on my way, if you wanted. Regale you with my Christmas Day recap—including a last-minute showdown with my father in which his face turned a shade of magenta not found in nature.’
It was, of course, completely out of his way, but he didn’t feel like mentioning that.
‘A wild swim?’ Celeste laughed. ‘Yeah, okay. I’d like to watch that. And hear about your showdown. Although I think nature really does have most shades of magenta, you know.’
He ignored that last bit, still smiling about the first. ‘And then I’m supposed to be showing my face at some cocktails in igloos thing on Sunday,’ he added.
‘I’ve never had cocktails in an igloo before.’
‘Apparently it’s something everyone should try at least once in their lives.’ Theo wondered if she knew how much he was making it up as he went along now. Talking absolute rubbish just for the excuse of seeing her again.
Probably. She was the smartest woman—smartest person—he’d ever met. She knew. And she was letting him get away with it. Why?
Maybe because she wants to spend more time with me, too. He hoped so anyway.
‘Then how could I pass it up?’ she said, laughing. ‘Pick me up in the morning, and we can discuss whether swimming in the freezing cold Thames in December is better or worse than Christmas with our families.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS STILL dark when Theo picked her up from her parents’ town house the next morning. They’d barely got off the phone six hours earlier, so she hadn’t had time to go home to her flat for fresh clothes, but fortunately her personal uniform of black, black and more black made it easy enough for her to dress from the stash she’d left in her childhood bedroom when she moved out, and still not look out of place.
‘Why are you doing this, again?’ Celeste settled into the passenger seat of Theo’s sports car, while he dumped her bag in the back.
‘Same reason I end up doing most things that seem like a bad idea at the time,’ he replied, starting the engine.
‘Publicity,’ they both said, at once.
‘Are you comparing sleeping with me to swimming in the freezing-cold Thames?’ She shifted sideways in her seat as he pulled away from the kerb. The position had two advantages: one, she could watch him better, and two, she could curl up here and get some more sleep while he drove.
‘I’m comparing dating you in public to the Boxing Day Swim,’ he corrected her. ‘Sleeping with you was an added bonus.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. And I want to hear about your showdown with your father, too.’ Celeste yawned.
‘Later,’ Theo said. ‘Get some more sleep for now.’
‘Okay.’ Her eyes fluttered shut as the motor purred, lulling her back to sleep.
When she awoke again, the built-up streets and buildings of London had given way to a gentler countryside—although Celeste knew they weren’t far from the city centre, really.
Henley-on-Thames was only an hour’s drive from London, and, given the early hour and the bank holiday emptiness of the roads in the pre-dawn, Celeste was pretty sure Theo had made it in considerably less. The Oxfordshire market town was famous for its Royal Regatta in the summer, which she could imagine Theo having to attend as part of his social obligations. It seemed just the sort of thing his parents would want to be seen at.
Somehow, a wild swim on a December morning seemed much more Theo-like, to her.
She hoped that his conversation with his parents would help him find more things that were more Theo-like, too. She liked Theo-like. And she was definitely still too tired to think properly if that was an actual sentence in her head.
Theo parked the car and they headed out together to find the other swimmers. There were more of them than Celeste had imagined would think this could possibly be a good idea, all lined up in swimsuits and blue-tinged skin.
‘You don’t even get to wear a wetsuit?’ she asked Theo, incredulously.
‘Apparently not.’
‘There you are!’ A young guy in a thick fleece coat hurried over to them, pushing through the crowd of warmly dressed bystanders who’d come to watch the spectacle. ‘I was starting to think you weren’t going to make it. Now, the camera crew is standing by to film the whole thing, but they’d like to get a quick chat with you before and after the swim, okay?’
Theo nodded. ‘Fine. Remind me, how far am I swimming, Gaz?’
‘Just seventy metres or so,’ Gaz said. Celeste shivered in sympathy. ‘From the hotel over there to some club down river, where they’ll fish you out. The camera guys are going to follow you in the boat.’
‘Great.’ Theo looked as if he was starting to seriously reconsider his life choices. Celeste didn’t blame him.
‘I’ll get you some coffee ready at the other end?’ she suggested.
Gaz had other ideas. ‘We definitely want to get some footage of you cheering on your man too, Celeste. And a kiss at the end would go down a treat, yeah?’
He turned away, heading back to where the camera guys were waiting, leaving Theo and Celeste alone for a moment, before the insanity of the Boxing Day swim started.
‘Guess I’m still a publicity asset after all,’ Celeste said, unable not to watch as Theo stripped down to his swimming shorts. God, he looks cold.
‘Guess so.’ He flashed her one of those TV smiles. How he could smile like that, half naked in the frost, she had no idea. Must be level one TV training, or something.
It occurred to her, not for the first time, that she might never actually know what Theo was thinking. He was so good at hiding it all behind that made-for-TV facade of his. She’d pegged him as a faker their first lunch together, but knowing he was faking was only part of it. Being completely certain when he wasn’t was much harder.
How much of their fake relationship was really fake and how much was really real? And how could she ever be sure?
The dark thought clouded her tired brain, and she couldn’t seem to shake it away. So she tried a little fakery of her own, instead.
‘Well, I’ll have your coffee and your kiss waiting for you, then,’ she said brightly. Then, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, she headed off down the bank to where the other spectators were gathering to watch the swimmers set off.
* * *
‘I don’t think I’m ever going to be properly warm again,’ Theo lamented, several hours later, as they headed back towards London in his convertible, heating on full.
‘Well, if you hadn’t fallen back in, after you got out in the first place, you might have warmed up sooner,’ Celeste said, unhelpfully.
He shot her a glare. ‘If you hadn’t been doubled over with laughter, you might have helped me out.’
‘I’d have spilt the coffee,’ she countered.
Theo shook his head. All he knew was that there were going to be photos of him floundering around in the water like a drunken duck, and his supposed girlfriend laughing uproariously at him, all over the Internet by teatime. So much for regaining his dignity yesterday, by finally standing up to his parents. At least he didn’t have to deal with what his father might have to say about the whole debacle debasing the family name any more.
‘Want me to see if the photos have hit the Internet yet?’ Celeste asked, reading his mind, as always.
He sighed. ‘Might as well, I suppose. I’m sure they’ve been on social media for ages. See if th
ey’ve hit the news pages yet, though.’
Her winces as she scrolled through her phone told him everything he needed to know.
Well, so he looked like an idiot. Again. It was all people really expected of him anyway. He was that nice but dim TV presenter, the unthreatening boy next door, the safe crush for teenage girls and grandmas alike.
Pretending to date Celeste might have actually given him some intellectual and personal cache for once, but nobody expected it to last. Least of all him.
He knew his place in the world up to now. A rich kid without quite enough money, an aristocrat without quite enough connections, an average learner with a wasted education, one he couldn’t even quite see through. The only thing that would impress his parents was if he married someone who’d bolster the family finances and/or social credibility—which he’d now told them he had no desire to do. And even if he had gone along with their plans, he was sure that within the year his mother would have been bemoaning the fact that he could have done better, and his father would be accusing him of not trying hard enough.
But where had trying hard ever got him, really?
It got you Celeste.
Not for long.
The victorious feeling he’d felt after standing up to his parents was already draining away like the freezing water he’d swum in. He’d closed one door, but had he really opened another? Yes, he wanted to go his own way, do his own thing. He just wasn’t entirely sure what that way, or thing, was. Other than finishing his degree at last, and carrying on with work as always, what would really change?
‘How bad is it?’ Even humiliating photos had to be better than this train of thought. He could laugh them off, the same way he laughed off every insult and barb from his parents over the years, every time he was told he wasn’t good enough. Every person who walked away when they realised that he wasn’t quite enough of anything, after all.
‘I mean... I think the way you’re floundering around on the bank is quite endearing, really. Possibly.’
Theo smiled. From Celeste, that was positively a compliment. At least she was trying to make it less awful for him. She wouldn’t have bothered to do that when they first met.
‘So, hilariously humiliating, then?’
She nodded. ‘Definitely going to be the funny story at the end of the news tonight, sorry.’
Theo sighed. He expected nothing less, really.
‘Wait, though...’
He glanced across at Celeste and found her frowning at her phone. ‘What?’
‘There’s a link to another article from this morning... Hang on...’
Maybe the bad feeling rising in his stomach had to do with how much of the River Thames he’d swallowed that morning.
But maybe not.
‘What is it?’ he asked, when she didn’t say anything.
‘Shhh. I’m reading.’
There was a junction coming up, and Theo took it, swinging off the motorway and into the forecourt of a service station. ‘Show me,’ he said, parking the car.
Silently, Celeste handed the phone over. Well, that wasn’t good for a start. Celeste was seldom without something to say on a subject.
Theo scanned the article on her phone. Oh. Well, he didn’t blame her.
‘This was from when you took me to the Cressingham Arcade, before Christmas?’ he guessed.
Celeste nodded. ‘Must have been. Don’t know why we didn’t see it before now, but I suppose it’s only been a few days.’
They’d been shopping for a present suitable for his mother, since he’d left it to the last minute as usual. Celeste had suggested the arcade where her brother and Rachel were working, so they’d popped there after one of their regular ‘out to be seen’ lunches together.
And apparently someone had snapped a photo of them supposedly looking at engagement rings at the grumpy old jeweller’s shop.
Following the links in the article, he traced the story back to its original source—a tweet posted by a random member of the public, four days ago. ‘Looks like it was just some normal person posting it, and they misspelt the hashtag, so it took a while for the gossip sites to pick it up.’
‘So, the world thinks we’re getting married? Our parents are going to hate that.’
Theo chuckled. ‘They definitely are.’
‘Good thing it’s not true, then.’
And it was. A good thing. Because he wasn’t looking to settle down and get married, not even just to prove a point to his parents. And if he were... He and Celeste were from different worlds, different expectations, and different ambitions. He was populist, she was highbrow. He was lightweight, she was a walking history textbook.
She’d be bored of him in no time, and he was sure he’d be a disappointment to her the same way he’d always been to his parents.
Except...if his parents were wrong, if he’d stepped out of that toxic family circle and accepted that maybe there was more to him than they saw...what if Celeste could see that too?
As he pulled back onto the motorway, he couldn’t help but let a little hope bubble up inside him.
* * *
Theo dropped her back at her own flat, and for the first time since Christmas Eve Celeste finally had space to think. To figure out what the hell was going on in her head—and in her heart.
The rest of the journey back from Henley-on-Thames had been mostly silent. And knowing how badly Theo had needed a shower and a sleep, she hadn’t even considered inviting him up to the flat with her.
But now she was there, alone with her thoughts, she almost wished she had. If nothing else, Theo was always a pleasant distraction.
Except he was so much more than that. That was the problem.
They needed to talk. They’d gone into this as a fun scheme, a trick to play on social media, almost. A way to rehabilitate Theo’s reputation after Celeste’s performance on the Christmas Cracker Cranium Quiz, and to raise her profile ahead of her potential TV show.
A TV show she’d heard nothing but warnings from her parents about all Christmas Day, even after she’d told them she didn’t want to talk about it, to the point where she was starting to wonder if they might even be right. Oh, not about the need to share history with anyone willing to learn it; she still believed that. But was she really the right person to do it? Was she choosing a career in media as a mediocre historian over her academic focus? All her life, she’d followed the path laid out for her by her parents, but now she was standing at a fork in that road, and choosing the one they’d put ‘do not cross’ tape over.
And that led her right back to Theo.
She and her agent had pitched the show before she’d met Theo, of course, but back then it was just a concept, a possibility. Now, her agent was emailing daily with updates instead of monthly. Apparently, her raised media profile had everyone keen to get moving with the project, and it looked more like a sure thing every day. And while she’d planned to be mostly consulting and narrating, now they wanted her front and centre on camera.
They’d even changed the title of the show to include her name. Suddenly, it was more about her than the history, than the stories of ancient women she wanted to tell.
She wasn’t an idiot. She knew all of that was because of Theo, not her. But what would happen when Theo wasn’t part of her life—or her image—any more?
Because he wouldn’t be.
They hadn’t expressly discussed breaking up, but the plan had never been a long-term one. They lived in different worlds, for all that she might be inhabiting his for a little while. She had research to do, a book to finish, a name to make for herself in her chosen niche.
The TV show was one project, one year. What about the rest of her life?
Theo had talked about what might happen next for her over dinner one night, while they had both studiously avoiding looking at the guy seated at the next
table taking their photo.
‘You’ve got your foot in the door now, and that’s all it takes,’ he’d said, while feeding her one of the prawns from his starter. ‘Radio appearances was one thing, but once you’re on TV once, that’s it. You’ll be the channel’s go-to expert on all things historical.’
‘But I’m not an expert on all things historical,’ she’d pointed out. ‘I have a speciality. That’s what I’m an expert in.’
‘You know more general history than almost everyone else in the population,’ he’d countered. ‘That’s what matters. They’ll rope you in for all sorts of historical programmes now—look at that guy who does all the science stuff. What’s his name? He’s a physicist, but he ends up on shows about all sorts.’
He was right, Celeste knew now. Her area of expertise was women’s history, especially women in the ancient world. But already she’d found herself approached to talk on other topics. Topics that fascinated her, sure, but they weren’t her niche. They weren’t what she was supposed to be talking about.
Like the history of Christmas. She’d spent a week reading up on that before the quiz show, and look where that landed her. At dire risk of falling for a guy who was only in it for the publicity. And who would always belong to a world she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of.
She pulled her phone back out to look again at the photo of her and Theo at the jeweller’s shop. They hadn’t been looking at rings, of course. But some strange emotion tugging at her heart kept whispering, What if you had?
Stop it. She wasn’t going down that road.
She swiped out of the browser and checked her message and email notifications instead.
Eight messages. Two from Rachel, one linking her to the article about the jeweller’s and asking if there was something she needed to tell her, and one with a link to a navy bridesmaid’s dress with the word Compromise? underneath. One from Damon that was just a picture of Theo falling in the water at the wild swim and a lot of laughing emojis.
A Midnight Kiss to Seal the Deal Page 14
