Wheel You Marry Me?

CHAPTER 6.

"Are you feeling better now?" Theodore asked, handing me a warm mug of hot chocolate. His apartment smelled like cinnamon and quiet kindness.

"Yeah," I said with a small nod, offering him the empty cup. He took it gently and smiled.

Theodore was such a good guy. Steady. Safe. Thoughtful. Why couldn't all guys be like him?

"Thank you so much, Theodore," I added, watching him set the mug down.

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly a little shy. "I—I'm just glad you're feeling better."

There was something genuine in his voice, the kind that makes you feel seen.

"I really liked how you sang last night," he added, and then hesitated before continuing. "It was... amazing, Aurora."

"Really?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

He stepped a little closer, then reached out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. My heart skipped. No, it sprinted.

"Yeah," he said softly, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're the best, Aurora."

His face was moving closer. Was he going to kiss me?

I panicked a little and cleared my throat. "Um... thank you, Theodore. I really appreciate that."

He blinked, and then slowly leaned back, the moment broken by awkward silence. A flicker of disappointment flashed across his face, but he covered it with a polite smile.

Trying to ease the tension, I asked, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

He adjusted his glasses. "Yeah. I think that would be good."

We walked down the quiet street, streetlights casting a warm amber glow. Somewhere in between talking about art and favourite childhood movies, he held my hand.

I hadn't expected that.

It felt strange, not wrong, just... unexpected. I didn't pull away, though. Not with people around. Not with Theodore's smile so earnest.

As we passed Eleanor's boutique, my stomach tightened. Through the large glass window, I saw Ryan and his mother. They were arguing, no, she was yelling, and he looked furious. He turned away from her and rolled toward the door.

The moment he pushed it open, he saw us.

He paused.

His eyes dropped to our interlocked hands. His jaw clenched.

I saw his lips move, he mumbled something, but I couldn't make it out. Then he turned and wheeled away angrily.

Something in my chest shifted. I didn't know why, but I felt... bad. Why do I feel bad for him?

Theodore took me to a small art gallery nearby. Soft jazz music played in the background as we walked from painting to painting.

The colours, the brushstrokes they reminded me of my mother. The way she looked this morning, a paintbrush in her hand and light in her eyes. A memory I hadn't realized I missed until now.

We talked. We laughed. He even insisted on buying me dinner, which I reluctantly agreed to. He was sweet, and dinner was surprisingly fun.

When I got back to Skylar's coffee shop, the place was quiet. The evening rush had long passed, and Skylar had already left. The soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound.

As I stepped inside, I noticed a man slouched over one of the corner tables, head resting on folded arms.

I approached cautiously. "Um... excuse me?"