Chapter 9 #2
Preston sighed. “Yeah. We know how it is.” The man had retired after discovering a one-night stand with the woman of his dreams had resulted in him becoming a father.
After meeting his son, he’d decided to hang up his skates and become a full-time father, while his future wife, Chelsea, followed her heart, opening a bakery here in the city.
Blake pointed a finger at him. “Vic, just because Amelia had issues with you being gone, doesn’t mean Belle will. Erika is fine with my travel schedule.”
“McKenna’s cool with mine, too,” Tank piped in, causing the rest of them to roll their eyes. As part of the team’s PR department, McKenna traveled with Tank when they went out on the road.
“Of course, she’s fucking fine with it,” Victor barked. “She’s always sitting next to you on the bus or plane.”
“Belle’s not Amelia,” Preston murmured.
“Thank God,” Blake grumbled.
His friends hadn’t been fans of his ex, not during the relationship and definitely not after she drop-kicked Victor’s heart. These guys were true blue when it came to loyalty and defense.
Preston tipped his beer back, then fixed Victor with a look that was a little too knowing. “Here’s the thing—you’re acting like you’ve got some kind of choice to make. Like you can either protect yourself or be with her. But that’s not going to work for you.”
“Why not?” Victor asked, just to be contrary.
“Because I know you, my friend, and you’re already in this way too deep.”
Preston wasn’t wrong. Victor knew without a shadow of a doubt, he didn’t have it in him to break things off with Belle. Even if it was the smart and/or safe thing to do.
Tank grunted in agreement. “Love’s always a risk, man. You don’t get a guarantee.”
Blake leaned forward, forearms braced on the table. “So let me simplify this for you, since you’re overthinking it. Is Belle worth the risk?”
Victor didn’t hesitate. “Fuck yeah.” The words came out rough, immediate, certain.
Tank snapped his fingers. “Boom. There it is. End of discussion.”
He scowled. “It’s not that easy.”
“You’re making it complicated because you’re still trigger-shy,” Blake shot back.
Victor protested. “No. If that’s all it was, I’d find a way to fucking get over my anxiety because I’m not a fucking child. But it’s not just about her and me.”
“Stop hiding behind Pip and Viv,” Preston said. “Yeah, it could get messy, but that’s just life, bro. You don’t avoid the good stuff just because it might go sideways.”
Blake lifted his beer. “You’ve got a woman you clearly care about—”
“More than care,” Preston interjected. “Let’s not sugarcoat it. Look at his face. He’s gone.”
Victor shot his friend a glare, but it lacked heat.
“—and instead of figuring out if this could be something real,” Blake continued, “you’re just what? Waiting for it to implode?”
Was that what he was waiting for? Victor was afraid Blake was right. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“So I’ll ask again, since you apparently need it drilled into that thick skull of yours. Is Belle worth it?” Blake was on a roll.
Victor exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face, over his beard. “Yeah,” he said, quieter this time. “She is. I just don’t want to screw this up.”
“By not doing anything, you’re guaranteeing you will,” Rook said honestly.
“Stop being an idiot,” Blake said simply. “Go tell the woman you love her.”
That advice hit him like a body check. Hard. Direct. Impossible to ignore.
It was time to say the words aloud.
“And after you drop that bomb, maybe have an actual conversation—with words, not body language—to figure out the rest,” Preston suggested.
“What if I say those words and she doesn’t feel the same way?” Victor asked.
Tank shrugged. “Then you deal with it like an adult…because apparently, you’re not a fucking child.”
“But what if she does say it back?” Blake countered.
Preston had the answer to that. “Then he stops living in this weird limbo land with her, and the two of them build something real together. You said it yourself, Vic. Belle is family. All that’s left to do now is make it official.”
He wanted that more than he could say, but… “It’s too soon to start talking about marriage.”
Every single man at the table groaned in unison.
“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Rook asked. “How long have you known Belle?”
“Five years, but we barely spoke most of that time, only seeing each other in passing,” Victor argued.
“Bullshit.” Preston fake-coughed the word.
“Maybe you haven’t been dating, but you’ve been watching each other and paying attention.
You know everything you need to know about that woman—her work ethic, her personality, what makes her happy and what makes her sad, that she’s NOT fucking Amelia.
Just like she’s been around long enough to know what a cranky, bad-tempered son of a bitch you are. And she’s still sleeping with you.”
Tank grinned cheerfully. “Our boy’s finally getting some on the reg. Maybe now, he’ll stop being such a grumpy fucker all the time.”
On any other day, Victor would punch Tank on the arm after a line like that, but right now, his head was reeling.
And then, it wasn’t.
He sat up straighter, aware his friends were right. It was time to take the next step.
“Well, look at that,” Preston said, his mouth twitching. “I think we finally got through to him.”
Rook chuckled. “Did we just witness emotional growth? From Victor?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, grabbing his wallet and tossing some cash on the table.
Tank smirked. “Where are you going?”
Victor pushed to his feet. “Home.”
Blake lifted his pint glass in a mock toast. “Atta boy. Go get your girl.”
Victor didn’t respond, because he’d already turned away, moving toward the exit with too much haste.
For the first time in weeks, things felt…clear.
Terrifying as hell.
But clear.
* * *
The house was quiet when Victor got home. Not empty or cold. Just…quiet.
And that difference hit him in the chest.
He found them in the living room—Pip was curled up against Belle’s side, sound asleep. Belle’s head was thrown back on the cushion, eyes closed, breathing heavily.
Victor leaned in the doorway, watching them.
This.
This was what he wanted.
To come home to find Belle sound asleep on the couch, their children dozing in her lap.
Pip shifted, the movement waking up Belle, who blinked several times, trying to focus her vision. Her gaze lifted after a moment and found him.
For a second, neither of them spoke. Something passed between them. Something uncertain, heavy, waiting. He’d been a jackass for putting this conversation off for so long.
“She wanted to wait for you,” Belle whispered. “Doesn’t look like either of us managed. Someone’s been keeping me up way past bedtime every night.”
He chuckled, walking across the room. “I’ll take her upstairs.”
Belle nodded, rising after Victor lifted Pip into his arms. His adorable little niece never stirred.
“We should all be able to sleep so soundly,” Belle mused.
Victor nodded in agreement. “Meet me on the patio?”
“Sure. I’ll grab us drinks while you tuck her in,” Belle offered.
Ten minutes later, Victor stepped outside.
The night air was cool but not chilly, a soft breeze brushing over his skin.
The humidity of the past few weeks had broken, thanks to an afternoon storm bringing them some much-needed relief from the thick, muggy heat that had characterized most of July and August.
Belle was sitting on one of the Adirondacks, her feet tucked beneath her butt. She was sipping wine and staring out across the yard. She glanced his direction when he slid the patio door closed behind him.
Victor was done playing it cool. Tired of holding back. Through waiting.
He walked over to her. Taking the wineglass from her hand, he set it on the side table before pulling her out of the chair and straight into his arms. He held her tightly, clinging to her as if she was his anchor, the only thing keeping him from floating away.
“I need to say something.”
His words must have come out too gruffly, because Belle pulled out of his embrace, staring at him, concern lacing her expression.
“Okay,” she said, somewhat hesitantly.
Victor sucked in a breath. “I love you.”
The words landed between them, raw and unguarded.
Panic kept him talking, not giving Belle a chance to respond. “I want you.” He waved his hand between them. “But not like this. Not in this bubble we’ve been pretending is enough.”
Belle didn’t speak. Didn’t move. And that scared the hell out of him.
He pushed through anyway.
“I’m not afraid of loving you, Sunshine,” he continued, forcing the words out. “I am scared shitless of losing you. Of screwing this up and taking everyone down with us.” His jaw tightened. “But I’d rather risk the fall than keep pretending this isn’t everything to me.”
Silence stretched between them, and Victor felt every second of it like a countdown to the end of the game.
Then he saw the tears on her lashes…followed by that soft, sweet smile of hers.
“You love me?” she asked in disbelief.
Victor nodded.
She bit her lower lip, as if trying to hold back what was shaping up to be the biggest smile he’d ever seen on her face…and that was saying something, because she was rarely without a smile. “I love you too.”
Victor cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears sliding down her cheeks as he looked into the eyes of the woman of his dreams.
For once, he wasn’t bracing for impact or waiting for the fall.
For the first time, Victor was stepping forward—no hesitation, no retreat.
All in.