Chapter 43Avery
Chapter Forty-Three
Avery
Victor's presence next to me is like a wall of warmth as we stand on Samantha's front porch. My mind races, trying to predict the upcoming conversation. The constant buzzing of my phone from the depths of my purse remains unanswered, an endless stream of ignored messages that I couldn't bring myself to face during our silent drive over. Victor shifts beside me, his blue eyes catching mine for a moment before he nudges, "You going to ring the doorbell or what?"
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "I guess." My hand feels heavy as it moves toward the button, the simple action suddenly monumental.
The second my finger depresses the doorbell, Samantha swings open the door. Her smile is sly, her eyes glowing with unspoken questions. She must have been watching through the peephole or something. "Hello, Victor," she greets him first, her grin widening. Then she turns that same knowing look on me. "Fancy seeing you two here so early. What a surprise."
"Hey, Sam." I force a casual note into my voice, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach. "Is Olivia ready?"
Olivia bounces into view, her grin bright enough to rival the morning sun. "I'm ready!" she chirps, then locks eyes with Victor, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Hi, Victor!"
"Hey there, Olivia," he says with that easy smile of his, the one that's been thawing the ice around my heart. "Race you to the car?" And just like that, they're off, their laughter trailing behind them as they dash down the walkway.
"Thanks, Sam," I mumble, already halfway turned to follow the whirlwind that is my daughter and the man whose presence stirs more than I care to admit.
"Wait," Samantha's hand clasps my arm, halting me with a gentle but firm grip. She leans in, her voice low and laced with curiosity. "What happened last night?"
My mind flashes to Victor's words, how casually he mentioned being "together" as if it were the simplest thing in the world. But with Samantha's inquisitive gaze drilling into me, I decide now's not the moment for confessions—real or imagined.
"Nothing happened," I say, keeping my tone light, brushing off her concern. "Just a late coffee after the board meeting. He dropped me home." My voice falters slightly as I add, "And he showed up this morning to bring me back to my car."
Samantha studies me for a second longer before releasing a theatrical sigh. "Likely story," she teases, her skepticism wrapped in a playful roll of her eyes. "Have fun," she adds with a pointed wink.
"Will do," I reply, the corners of my lips tugging upwards despite the flutter of nerves in my belly.
"Goodbye, Victor!" she calls out, loud enough to reach the end of the driveway. Her sassy smile is unmistakable even from a distance.
He pauses, glancing over his shoulder, waving back with a chuckle, "Bye, Sam! Take care!"
As I turn to catch up with the impromptu race unfolding before me, I can't help but feel the weight of Samantha's gaze on my back, her knowing eyes seeing right through my half-hearted denials. But for now, I push those thoughts aside, focusing on the sound of my daughter's giggles blending seamlessly with Victor's deeper chuckles, a harmony I never knew I'd come to appreciate so much.
I slide behind the wheel, my fingers brushing against the leather as I catch Victor and Olivia mid-laughter, scrambling into the backseat. "So, why's Victor here anyway?" Olivia's curious voice cuts through the morning air .
Victor and I lock eyes in the rearview mirror, a silent conversation flickering between us. "Well," he starts with that easy grin of his, "I could use a hand strategizing for the playoff game. Thought we could tackle it over breakfast, yeah?"
"Can we go to Lou's Diner?" Olivia pipes up, her face bright with anticipation.
"Sounds perfect," I reply, a smile sneaking onto my lips as I turn the ignition. The car rumbles to life, and I steal another glance at Victor. He's nodding along, his eyes alight with a spark I'm not used to seeing in them.
The diner greets us with the aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon. We shuffle into our booth, the red vinyl squeaking beneath us. "Hot chocolate for the lady," I say to the waitress, who scribbles down our order with a nod.
Olivia's excitement bubbles over as she leans into Victor, talking strategy, her hands animating every word. They're both so caught up in each other's enthusiasm for the game. It's contagious, even to me. I can't help but watch them, my heart swelling a bit too much at the sight.
Victor's blue eyes are different when he looks at Olivia – warm, present. They're the eyes of someone who's found something worth sticking around for. And, if I’m honest with myself, I'm scared of how much I want him to stay, not just for Olivia, but for me too. It’s a risky thought, considering his past, his guarded heart, but maybe we’re thawing that ice, one shared laugh at a time.
"Ma'am? Ma'am, your order?" The waitress's voice cuts through my fog of thoughts, and I blink back into the present.
"Sorry," I murmur, quickly scanning the menu before rattling off our usual breakfast choices. Olivia eyes me with a mix of concern and curiosity.
"Mom, you've been kinda spacey lately. Everything okay?" Her innocent question tugs at my heartstrings.
"Everything's fine, sweetie."
Victor shoots me a teasing glance, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, why is that?" he chimes in, an impish grin playing on his lips.
"Very funny," I retort, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a smile. "Actually, Liv, we should take Victor around town. Show him all our favorite spots, don't you think?"
"Ooh, yes!" She claps her hands, excitement lighting up her face. "So, there’s the mural by the library, the swings at River Park?—"
Victor pulls out a small notebook from his jacket, flipping it open to a blank page. Watching him jot down each item Olivia lists, I'm struck by a sense of disbelief. This man, who I'd thought was all sharp edges and frost, is taking such care with her words.
"Wow, that's a lot of places," Victor observes after Olivia takes a breath. "But maybe we can cover them over the next few weeks?"
"Really?" Olivia's voice pitches high with hope. "You'll still be here for all that time?"
"Of course," he says, just as our food arrives. We dig in, but Olivia's not quite done. Between bites of pancake, she asks, "It's Thanksgiving this Thursday. Will you be around, Victor?"
I hold my breath. This is a big ask for a man with walls built high from years of letdowns. But then again, maybe those walls are already crumbling.
I'm frozen mid-chew, the diner's chatter dulls into a buzz as I wait for Victor's response. My gaze locks onto his, searching for any hint of an excuse forming behind those piercing blue eyes.
"Actually," he starts, and my heart sinks. But then he leans in, a smile warming his face in a way that makes him look almost boyish. "I usually head up to Boston to catch up with some friends. How about you and Olivia join me this time?"
Olivia squeals, nearly toppling her hot chocolate in her excitement. "Can we, Mom? Please?"
My mouth goes dry. "Victor, are you sure? I mean... your friends won't mind us tagging along?" The last thing I want is to be an unwelcome guest, another burden for someone who's already shouldered too many.
He shrugs, a casual gesture that belies the depth of his offer. "It's at my place anyway. If they have a problem with it, they can deal. You're both invited."
I swallow hard, the apprehension knotting in my stomach. But Olivia's wide-eyed eagerness is infectious, and I find myself nodding. "Okay, we're in."
"Awesome!" Olivia pumps her fist, bouncing in the booth.
"Finish up, kiddo," Victor tells her, his tone light but firm. "You'll need the energy. We've got ice to conquer after this." He winks at her, and I can't help but marvel at the transformation skating has wrought in him—a thawing frost, a tender kindling.
"Skating?" Her spoon clatters against the bowl as she shovels in the last few bites.
"Yep, just you and me on the rink." His voice holds a promise, one that extends beyond the ice.
"Best day ever," Olivia declares, grinning from ear to ear.
I watch them, the easy camaraderie that's unfolded like the petals of a flower long closed. And there, amidst the cluttered table and sticky syrup bottles, I feel something shift inside me—a budding hope that maybe Victor Stone might stick around.