Chapter 6 - Nine Years Apart Was Easier Than Three Months TogetherTheodore Ashford hated sleeping alone.
Before Clare, he had never understood why people complained about empty beds.
He had spent years traveling between London, New York, Singapore, Dubai, and Chicago. Hotels blurred together. Apartments were temporary spaces. Women came and went without leaving anything behind that he missed.
Then Clare invaded his life.
She left hair ties on his bathroom counter.
Half-read books appeared beside his bed.
A ridiculous strawberry-scented hand cream lived permanently in his car.
She stole his pillows.
She complained that his apartment looked like “a luxury hotel designed by a depressed architect” and gradually began adding color without permission.
Now she was in Paris.
And every room felt too quiet.
Three days after their argument, Theo sat in the Ashford Industries boardroom while twelve executives discussed projections he could normally understand without effort.
He heard almost nothing.
“Therefore,” CFO Martin Keller continued, “we recommend delaying the expansion until Q3.”
Theo stared at the spreadsheet.
“Agreed.”
The room became strangely silent.
Martin blinked.
“Agreed?”
“Yes.”
Theo looked around.
“Is there a problem?”
“No.”
Martin exchanged a glance with another executive.
Theo understood.
Apparently everyone expected resistance.
Good.
At least he was proving Clare wrong.
He was focused.
He was responsible.
He was miserable.
After the meeting, Owen walked into his office without knocking.
“You look like hell.”
“Thank you.”
“Clare?”
Theo continued reviewing documents.
“Owen.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You have the emotional subtlety of a truck crash.”
Theo dropped the pen.
“We argued.”
“About?”
“My travel.”
“Too much?”
“Apparently.”
Owen sat down.
“She’s not wrong.”
Theo glared.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You should.”
“I can manage my company.”
“I know.”
“I can decide when I fly somewhere.”
“Yes.”
“So why is everyone acting like I committed corporate treason by visiting my girlfriend?”
Owen studied him.
“Because you’re missing the point.”
Theo leaned back.
“Enlighten me.”
“Clare spent years defining herself outside this family. Outside our parents. Outside you.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Theo became quiet.
Owen continued.
“When you walk into a room, people see Theodore Ashford before they see anything else. Money. Company. Family. Power.”
“And?”
“And when Clare walks beside you, people are starting to see Theodore Ashford’s girlfriend before they see Clare.”
Theo’s frustration evaporated.
He remembered the photographers.
The questions about whether he funded her career.
The business article.
He had dismissed all of it because he knew it was nonsense.
But Clare lived inside the nonsense.
“She thinks she’ll disappear.”
“Yes.”
Theo looked toward the window.
“How do I fix that?”
“Stop trying to fix everything.”
Theo stared at him.
“That is useless advice.”
“No. It’s probably the best advice I’ve ever given you.”
“You usually give terrible advice.”
“Exactly. Appreciate the moment.”
Owen stood.
“Ask Clare what she needs. Then listen.”
“I did.”
“What did she say?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“Then maybe she needs time to figure it out.”
Theo hated that answer.
But for once, he did nothing.
No surprise flight.
No flowers.
No enormous romantic gesture.
He called Clare every evening.
They talked.
Carefully.
They avoided the argument.
Neither mentioned Caroline’s article again.
Then two weeks later, Theo received a call from Clare’s mother.
Her voice was shaking.
“Theo, it’s Clare.”
He stood instantly.
“What happened?”
“She collapsed at the hotel.”
The world stopped.
“What?”
“She’s at a hospital in Paris. Her assistant called us. Apparently she’s been working eighteen-hour days and barely sleeping.”
Theo was already grabbing his coat.
“Which hospital?”
“Theo—”
“Which hospital?”
Forty minutes later, he was on the Ashford jet.
He did not care about meetings.
He did not care about articles.
He did not care whether Clare accused him of overreacting.
She had collapsed.
Nothing else mattered.
When he reached the hospital, Adrian Moreau was waiting outside the room.
Theo recognized him immediately from photographs.
Adrian stood.
“You’re Theodore.”
“Yes.”
“I’m Adrian.”
“I know.”
Despite everything, Theo almost laughed at himself.
This was the man he had irrationally hated for weeks.
Adrian looked exhausted.
“She’s okay.”
Theo exhaled for what felt like the first time since Chicago.
“What happened?”
“Exhaustion. Dehydration. She skipped lunch yesterday. Possibly breakfast too.”
Theo closed his eyes briefly.
Of course she had.
“She’s impossible.”
Adrian smiled tiredly.
“Yes.”
Theo looked through the glass.
Clare was sleeping.
Pale.
Small beneath the hospital blanket.
Fear tore through him.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Adrian said.
Theo stopped him.
“Thank you.”
Adrian nodded.
“She’s very good at what she does.”
“I know.”
“She’s also terrible at stopping.”
“I know that too.”
Then Adrian left.
Theo sat beside Clare’s bed.
For nearly an hour, he simply watched her breathe.
When she finally opened her eyes, confusion appeared first.
Then recognition.
Then irritation.
“Oh, no.”
Theo almost laughed from relief.
“Hello to you too.”
“You came.”
“Yes.”
“From Chicago?”
“No. From the room next door.”
She stared.
“Theodore.”
“I got on a plane.”
“You were supposed to stay.”
“You collapsed.”
“I fainted.”
“You lost consciousness in a construction site.”
“I was standing in the finished lobby.”
“That distinction is doing nothing for me.”
Clare sighed.
“I’m okay.”
Theo’s anger disappeared.
He leaned forward and took her hand.
“You scared me.”
Her expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“For collapsing?”
“For making you worry.”
“You don’t apologize for being human.”
A nurse entered, checked Clare’s vitals, and told them she could probably be discharged later that evening.
After she left, silence filled the room.
Clare looked at Theo.
“You probably canceled meetings.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“Theo.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I am not apologizing for this trip.”
She opened her eyes.
He continued.
“You collapsed. Your mother called me. There was no universe in which I stayed in Chicago because people might write another stupid article.”
Clare stared at him.
“I know.”
The quiet answer surprised him.
“I would have done the same,” she admitted.
Something inside him loosened.
“Good.”
“But after I leave the hospital, you’re going back.”
“No.”
“Theodore.”
“I’m staying two days.”
“You have work.”
“I can work remotely.”
She opened her mouth.
He lifted a finger.
“Two days. Negotiation closed.”
Clare almost smiled.
“Controlling.”
“Alive girlfriend.”
“Dramatic.”
“Collapsed girlfriend.”
“Fine.”
That evening, they returned to Clare’s apartment.
Theo ordered enough food for six people.
Clare sat wrapped in a blanket on the couch.
“You’re staring at me.”
“I’m making sure you remain conscious.”
“I’m eating soup.”
“Good.”
She watched him.
“Theo.”
“Yes?”
“Come here.”
He sat beside her.
Clare immediately curled into him.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Theo closed his eyes, holding her.
He had missed this more than he could explain.
“I hated our argument,” Clare whispered.
“So did I.”
“I hated not having you here.”
“I hated not being here.”
She traced a line along his shirt.
“But I meant what I said.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to disappear into your life.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No.”
She looked up, surprised.
Theo took a breath.
“I can promise I’ll notice if I’m making it happen.”
Clare’s eyes softened.
“And I can promise I’ll listen when you tell me.”
She rested her head against him again.
“I don’t want you to stop visiting me because some magazine thinks you’re distracted.”
“I don’t want to neglect my responsibilities.”
“Then we find balance.”
Theo smiled faintly.
“Balance sounds suspiciously mature.”
“Terrible, right?”
“Awful.”
Clare laughed softly.
Then Theo became serious.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You collapsed because you’re working too much.”
She immediately looked defensive.
“That is different.”
“It absolutely is not.”
“The deadline changed.”
“You skipped meals.”
“I forgot.”
“You worked nineteen hours on Tuesday.”
“How do you know that?”
“Adrian.”
“Traitor.”
Theo took her chin gently.
“You’re afraid of being seen as successful because of me, so you’re working yourself into the ground trying to prove you deserve everything.”
Clare went completely still.
The observation landed too accurately.
“I deserve this project.”
“Yes.”
“I earned it.”
“Yes.”
“People should know that.”
“They do.”
“Not everyone.”
“Who cares?”
“I care.”
Theo’s voice softened.
“Clare, you are doing exactly what you’re afraid I’ll do.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“You’re letting my name control your life.”
She stared at him.
Theo continued carefully.
“You’re working harder because you’re terrified someone will say Theodore Ashford gave you something.”
Clare looked away.
“That means my existence is still defining your decisions.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“I hate when you make sense.”
“I’ll try to do it less.”
She hit his chest lightly.
Theo caught her hand and kissed her fingers.
“You don’t have to prove you deserve your own success.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
There it was.
Honest again.
Theo pulled her close.
“You’re Clare Montgomery.”
She smiled against him.
“The glasses pest?”
“My favorite person.”
“The matchstick?”
“The woman who can terrify an entire boardroom by raising one eyebrow.”
“I’ve never been in your boardroom.”
“You terrify me. I extrapolated.”
She laughed.
The next two days were strangely peaceful.
Theo worked from Clare’s kitchen table.
Clare was ordered to rest.
She hated every second.
By hour six she attempted to open her laptop.
Theo confiscated it.
By hour nine she threatened him with physical violence.
He seemed delighted.
On the second evening, they walked slowly beside the Seine.
No photographers.
No business.
No project discussions.
Just them.
Theo took her hand.
“You know what I realized?”
“What?”
“Nine years apart was easier than this.”
Clare frowned.
“That sounds terrible.”
“Hear me out.”
“I’m listening reluctantly.”
“When we were apart, I didn’t know what I was missing.”
He stopped walking.
“Now I do.”
Clare’s chest tightened.
“Three months away from you feels worse than nine years when I didn’t understand what I had lost.”
She looked at him.
Paris glowed behind him.
Lights reflected off the river.
For a second, Theo looked like the nineteen-year-old boy beside the pool again.
Except now he did not run.
Clare touched his face.
“We have three months left.”
“Eighty-seven days.”
“You counted?”
“Obviously.”
She laughed.
“Then we survive eighty-seven days.”
“Together.”
“Together.”
He kissed her beneath a streetlamp.
When Theo returned to Chicago, their relationship changed.
Not dramatically.
Carefully.
He stopped rearranging important meetings without discussing it with Clare.
Clare stopped pretending she could survive on coffee and ambition.
They began sharing calendars.
Not to control each other.
To protect space for each other.
They scheduled calls.
They scheduled visits.
They scheduled days when work was forbidden.
It was unromantic.
It worked.
Then, seventy-one days before Clare was scheduled to return home, Theo received an unexpected visitor.
Lucas Reed walked into his office.
Theo stood slowly.
“Lucas.”
“Theo.”
They had not spoken privately since Clare chose Theo.
There was no hostility now.
But no friendship either.
“What can I do for you?”
Lucas placed a folder on the desk.
“I think you should see this.”
Theo looked down.
“What is it?”
“Something involving Clare’s Paris project.”
Theo’s stomach tightened.
Lucas opened the folder.
Inside were copies of corporate documents.
“Maison Beaumont is being acquired.”
Theo frowned.
“By who?”
Lucas looked directly at him.
“Ashford Industries.”
The room went completely silent.
Theo stared at the papers.
“No.”
“The negotiations started four months ago.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s being handled through Ashford Hospitality Europe.”
Theo grabbed the documents.
He recognized the subsidiary.
He recognized several signatures.
Not his.
But executives beneath him.
His company was about to acquire the corporation that had given Clare the project of her career.
And if anyone found out before she did, every fear Clare had confessed would suddenly look true.
She would believe her success belonged to him after all.
Theo felt cold.
“When does this become public?”
May you like
Lucas’s expression was grim.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Related Stories
