I turned my head and saw Victor standing in the hall with his hands in his pockets looking as defeated as I’d ever seen him. I tried to smile, tried to reassure him that he was doing the right thing, but I couldn’t find the energy to do it. I let Marcus lead me away, back to the car, and drive me home. On my way there, I got a call from Meire and answered straight away, which I rarely did.
“I saw the pictures,” she said upon my answering. “Are you crying?”
“No,” I sniffled. “I’m sick.”
“Come stay over here. You shouldn’t be by yourself right now.”
“Okay,” I said, and agreed to drive to their house later on, after I’d showered and napped on my bed. I needed to be by myself for a little while. Needed time to process everything that had happened earlier.
Later that night, when darkness had fallen over, there was loud knocking on my door that startled me awake. Fuck. Shit. I was supposed to go to my dad’s. I checked my phone and saw the missed calls from Meire and Dad as I walked to the door and opened it. Victor was standing on the other side dressed in jeans, a Dodgers cap, and a black hoodie. I knew it was him because I knew him, but you could barely make out his face with that thing over his head.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice a croaked whisper. It was getting worse.
He held up a bag. “Soup.”
I closed my eyes and stepped back so he could walk in.
“Didn’t we break up? Did I imagine that?” I asked, closing the door and following him down the hall.
Bonnie jumped on her back legs and wagged her tail when she saw him. Stupid dog. Hadn’t I spent an hour crying over him to her? Why was she being nice to him?
“Get comfortable while I heat this up,” he said, rounding my kitchen counter and tearing the bag open.
I looked at him for a long moment, studied his face now he’d taken the hood off: the planes of his chiseled jaw, the light scruff, the light brown hair curling under the baseball cap, those hazel eyes that made my knees go weak, his long fingers as he popped the lid on the plastic container. Each second that passed made my heart hurt a little more. I turned around and left the kitchen, opting to sit in the living room and switch on the TV. Maybe if I had a distraction I wouldn’t have to think about how over we were.
Victor returned with a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice and sat beside me. He put the juice and a napkin with two blue pills down on the coffee table and turned to face me. He was too close.
I could smell the scent of his body wash and shampoo.
So close.
I could see the lines of brown on his greenish eyes.
Too close.
I could practically taste his lips against mine. I swallowed and cringed at the pain, and when he lifted a spoonful of soup up for me to drink, my eyes widened.
“You can’t feed me,” I whispered. The dip in his brow, and the look in his eyes told me he was crestfallen.
“Please, Nic,” he whispered, a plea. I’d never heard him plead before. It made my chest squeeze, my eyes water.
“I can’t, Victor. It’s all or nothing, and you know it can’t be all.”
The spoon clinked against the bowl as he closed his eyes. “It can be,” he said, opening his eyes again, “just not right now.”
“I get it.”
“I really . . . this . . . it wasn’t just for fun,” he said.
“I know.” I swallowed. “But we still have to keep our distance. You being here isn’t helping anything.”
He nodded slowly. “I couldn’t just . . .” He sighed. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I am, Victor. I’m okay. I’ll be okay, but you can’t be here. You can’t say no to me and tell me this isn’t good timing and then show up in my house with soup. I’m strong, but I still have feelings.”
Feelings that were overwhelming me.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, sighing. “I really am.”
“Thank you for the soup.”
“You’re welcome.” He paused, taking his cap off with one hand to run his hand through his hair. “I’m going to leave now.”
I nodded. He glanced at me again.
“I’m going to leave because this is the responsible thing to do,” he said. “If I was careless, I’d stay.”
“That’s . . . good to know,” I said. And it was. Maybe not now, but someday there would be a future for us. Maybe someday we’d work out.
If I was careless, I’d stay.
When he left, I drank my soup, picked up Bonnie, and then headed to my dad’s. Meire didn’t even let me knock before she opened the door and pulled me into a hug.
“Your dad is not very happy. He’s not even going to the office tomorrow.”
My heart dropped. I was afraid of that. I let go of Meire and started walking toward his study, where I knew I’d find him.
“There’s soup for you in the kitchen. I’ll warm it up,” she called out. I didn’t bother to tell her I’d already had some. I could have another bowl.
“Thank you,” I called out, cursing my teenage self for all the times I’d talked shit about her for marrying my dad. I wasn’t one to welcome new people with open arms. I was always cautious about letting people in because I’d seen so many people get burned by loved ones, and I just never wanted that to be me. The irony.
I knocked once on my dad’s office door before walking in. He was sitting behind his desk with his hand on his forehead.
“Hey, Dad.”
His head snapped up. He smiled softly. “How are you feeling?”
I shrugged. “Like shit.”