Chapter Three #2
“There’s no need to walk me down,” she says when she comes back into the living room, heading for the door. “Thanks for a great night, boy toy.”
“Victory,” I say sternly. I’m not a fucking boy toy. “I’m walking you down to the car.”
Victory
My emotions are reeling. I feel like I can’t breathe as we head downstairs, and I know Wells feels it, because his hand is on my lower back as we hit the busy sidewalk, and he keeps looking at me like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t.
I feel like an ass rushing off and dismissing him the way I did.
It’s not like he did anything wrong. He did exactly what he agreed to do, and he did it surprisingly well.
I’m the one who’s messed up. When I was lying in his arms afterward, without the constant distraction of his hands and mouth and other talented body parts driving me wild, I couldn’t stop thinking about Harvey.
I still can’t.
Thankfully, the car is waiting out front. “Thanks again,” I say awkwardly, needing to get out of here before I break down.
“Do me a favor and text me when you get home, so I know you got there safely.”
“I don’t have your number, but I’ll be fine.”
He pulls out his phone. “Give me yours and I’ll text you. Then you’ll have it.”
I rattle it off, and he thumbs out a text. My phone chimes in my purse.
He leans down and kisses my cheek. “You’re an incredible woman, Victory. I appreciate the trust you put in me tonight.”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that .
I manage a smile, and he opens the car door for me.
“Thanks again,” I say too cheerily, as if the guilt isn’t eating me alive, and slide into the back seat.
After he closes the door, he stands there, his arms crossed, watching us drive away from the curb.
I look down at the butterfly tattoo on my wrist, guilt and sadness swamping me.
Shit. Shitshitshit. What have I done? I squeeze my eyes shut against tears, but I see flashes of Harvey, and on the heels of seeing him, comes Wells. The guilt is too consuming, and tears break free. I clench my teeth, telling myself to get a grip. This is not who I am. I am always in control.
Except when I’m not .
Guilt stacks up inside me. I stare out the window, trying to stop the tears, but my thoughts circle back to dancing and kissing Wells and how much I enjoyed everything we did, which makes me feel even guiltier.
I hate feeling out of control. I need to talk to someone who will give me tough love and help me get my head on straight.
Leni, Shea, or Sutton would give me the harsh talk I need, but I can’t tell them about Wells.
They’re too tangled up with the Silvers, and as much as I love my brother Clay’s wife, Pepper, they just got married six months ago, and they’re still in the honeymoon stage.
They’re so happy, I don’t want to dump this crap on her.
This is one of the rare times I wish my circle of friends weren’t so small.
I’ve never had many close girlfriends. Growing up in newly developing countries with my wildlife biologist and photographer parents until I was in high school, marrying young, and running a multibillion-dollar business for the last several years doesn’t leave me with much in common with many women my age.
Without any sisters to lean on, I count myself lucky to have four wonderful younger brothers.
They’ve all helped me through rough times, but Seth has always been my confidant.
He’s the closest to my age, the most levelheaded, and he never judges me.
Seth and I have always needed a level of structure our younger rambunctious brothers, Clay, Flynn, and Noah, didn’t.
That’s probably why Seth and I became comrades in arms, talking out issues and taking solace in order and our studies.
Seth never gets too caught up in emotions, which is exactly what I need right now. It’s after midnight, but he’s a night owl, and he knows how tough today is for me. We had breakfast together this morning, like we do every year on the anniversary of the day I met Harvey.
I reach into my purse for my phone and find a napkin from the bar. I have no idea how that got there. I remember Wells zipping my purse, but why would he put it in there? I fish my phone out, and my pulse quickens at the sight of Wells’s text. It hadn’t fully registered that he sent one.
Wells: Hit me up the next time you’re down for some fun.
Hit me up? What was I thinking? I read it again, and it screams of our age difference, driving that guilt deeper into my chest. Not that I know how old Wells is, but my guess is around thirty.
The car stops, and I look up from my phone.
We’re at a stoplight, and the driver is watching me in the rearview mirror.
He averts his eyes, and Wells’s voice whispers through my mind. The perils of being beautiful.
Ugh. The heck with good genetics. I’ll take a new brain, please. At least for tonight.
I call Seth, and he answers on the first ring. “Hey, Vic. Everything okay?”
As usual, his calm, deep voice is reassuring. I imagine him putting down whatever book he’s reading and pushing his black-framed glasses to the bridge of his nose as he sits back in his leather recliner. “ No ,” I whisper-hiss. “I just cheated on Harvey.”
Seth doesn’t immediately respond. As a business magnate and named Forbes ’s Most Eligible Bachelor twice, he didn’t get where he is by speaking before he thinks. I’m sure his dark brows are furrowed and he’s rubbing his jaw, weighing his answer. “Vic, you can’t cheat on a man who’s not here.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not , which means one of two things. You’re either drunk and overthinking, or you’ve finally let yourself move on. Neither is bad as long as you’re in a safe place.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Okay. Then a guy caught your fancy? Good for you. Did you enjoy it?”
“ Yes . It was fun and exciting, and…different. But then I was lying there in his arms and…” Tears well in my eyes.
“He wasn’t Harvey,” he says empathetically.
“Exactly. I feel so guilty.” The driver pulls over in front of my building. “Hold on a sec. I have to get out of the car.”
I thank the driver, and Ivan, the silver-haired doorman who has worked in my building for at least the ten years I’ve lived there, opens the car door for me. “Good evening, Ms. Braden,” he says as I step out.
“Hi, Ivan. Thank you.” I’m not ready to go upstairs and face the luxury apartment where Harvey and I lived, so I head down the sidewalk to finish my call in private.
“Sorry, Seth.” I pick up where we left off, speaking quietly.
“Not only did I jump into bed with the first man who offered, I did it with Wells Silver .” I whisper his name, as if that somehow makes it better.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. He’s not much older than Noah .
” Our youngest brother is barely thirty.
“At thirty-seven, I guess that makes you a cougar,” he says with amusement.
“ Seth! That’s not helpful.”
“Sorry,” he says. “But I’d like to point out that we both know Wells is not the first man to offer.”
“I’m in turmoil, and that’s what you focus on?” I pace the sidewalk.
“No. I just want to be clear that you’ve had plenty of offers over the years from some very prominent men, and you turned them all down. I’m not saying that has to mean anything, but it might.”
And there it is, his brilliant analytical side, which I admire when it’s convenient and find annoying when it’s not. This is the latter. “It doesn’t , so let’s move on.”
“Okay. I spent some time with Wells at the wedding. He’s a good guy.”
“Seriously? He’s a total player, and he dated Leni, which makes me a horrible friend. I broke the girl code. Everyone knows you don’t sleep with your friend’s ex.”
“Leni is marrying an A-list actor this summer. I highly doubt she gives a shit who Wells sleeps with, but—”
“Maybe calling you was a mistake. You are not helping.”
“And you are not letting me finish my sentences.” He pauses, and I know he’s making a point, so I bite my tongue. “I think it’s great that you finally cut loose and had a good time. You’ve lived your life in a box for five years.”
“I have not.” I definitely have, but I don’t like the way he makes it sound wrong. I like my alone time, but if I don’t keep myself busy and distracted, my thoughts return to the awful night Harvey died.
“No? You go to the gym, then you go to work, and then you either order dinner to take home or you eat out, and you never go home before seven o’clock. Except on Friday nights, when you go to your and Harvey’s favorite restaurant, where you’ve had a standing reservation for five years.”
“I like the tavern.” It’s the truth, and it’s the least I can do for the man I love.
“Nobody likes a restaurant enough to go every week for years on end by themselves. I get it. Especially after what happened the night Harvey died.”
“ Don’t ,” I warn. Seth is the only one who knows the truth about that night, and I can’t go there right now.
“I’m not. I’m just saying that I get it, but you are living in a box, sis. I know it’s not easy to move on, but I have to ask, if Leni weren’t in the picture, would you be interested in Wells?”
“God no ,” I snap, but I don’t know if that’s the guilt talking or the truth, and I don’t have the bandwidth to think about it.
“Why? Did he suck in bed?”
“No, he was amazing, but he’s not my type.”
“Because you prefer guys who suck in bed?” he teases.