Chapter 21 #2
“That’s not true,” I said, taking the empty glass.
“You don’t know them,” she said, wiping her eyes with her palm. “Richard hates how I look, he can barely look at me without wincing.”
Ok, who the fuck was Richard and what was his problem? Even with tear-rimmed eyes and a runny nose, Victoria was still the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. I could barely look away.
I kept one hand on her back and slid my other into her tight fists to loosen them up, pulling our interlaced hands into my lap.
“Spencer’s dad hates me because I didn’t give a shit about his stupid legacy.” Her fingernails pressed into the palm of my hands. I relished the sting, like it could absorb a fraction of her pain. “Beverly hates me because I left her stupid brother, the dumb twat.”
I couldn’t bite back the laugh at her saying ‘twat,’ and she pushed a palm against my chest, twisting to face me. Her face scrunched up in an exaggerated disgust that could only be pulled off by the I-won't-remember-this-tomorrow-level drunk people.
“You think Alex is arrogant? You’d haaaaaate Spencer. He studied at Oxford so he fakes a British accent even though he grew up in New Fucking Jersey.” She spat out that state, rubbing her eye. “Dad said he’s in London now. Good fucking riddance.”
Her dad. So these people who supposedly hated her … they were her family?
“I thought I wouldn’t feel this way again. I thought Alex wanted what I wanted and we could keep things …” Her back straightened, those imploring silver eyes meeting mine. Her speech was still a little slurred, but came out quiet and serious. “Have you ever fallen in love, Eric?”
I shook my head, my gut churning.
“Don’t bother, it’s awful. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.” She slumped back into my shoulder while curling her legs into a tight ball, like all that toxicity drained the drunk right out. I almost didn’t hear her whisper, “Everybody hates me.”
“I like you."
She blew her lips, spit flying before she daintily brushed her mouth. “Doesn’t count, you like everybody.”
“Not true.”
“Name three people you don’t like.”
“Alex,” I said right away, and her laughter huffed a warm breath against my chest. “And I don’t know Richard or Beverly or Sawyer—”
“Spencer.”
“Whoever. He’s from Jersey, so I don’t like him.” A gross oversimplification, but it seemed to placate her. “Is he a Yankees fan?”
“They all are.”
“They’re dead to me,” I said flatly.
She laughed hoarsely, then sniffled. “They’re all better off without me, and so is Alex. He doesn’t love me, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not allowed to fall in love.”
“Why the fuck not?” I said, suddenly as protective of her as I’ve ever been.
“I asked Richard once,” she leaned back enough for me to see her face, her eyes dropping shut and head lolling side-to-side against me, “on the Christmas that Beverly put a Weight Watchers membership in my stocking, I went into the office to escape. Richard was there too, probably also avoiding that harpy,” her mouth quirked into a mean grin and when I chuckled, it widened.
“I asked him how he could possibly love her. He said, ‘Vickie, people like us can’t afford the luxury of falling in love.’”
“That’s bullshit. Love isn’t a luxury, it’s a choice. Nobody gets to decide that for you, Cobrita.”
“You don’t know how many people are watching me, waiting for me to fail.”
“You think a person can fail at falling in love?”
Her lips tightened into a determined line. “A person can fail at anything if they’re not prepared.”
I couldn’t help it. I pulled her onto my lap and she came willingly, snuggling into me. With all her prestigious degrees and casual Greek, this brilliant woman could learn anything. Maybe I could be the one to teach her how to relax, to let loose … and maybe even to cuddle.
“Ok, baby,” I said in a soothing tone. “Tell me how you can prepare. Tell me what you want, when you think about falling in love.”
Her eyelashes fluttered against my neck like she was falling asleep.
Her raspy voice arrived just above a whisper, like she didn’t want anybody to eavesdrop on her dream.
“I want somebody who wants me so badly that he can’t breathe when I’m away.
Somebody who can’t keep his hands off me.
Somebody who likes me better than everyone else, even when I’m a cold bitch. ”
“Especially when you’re a cold bitch."
Her eyes stayed closed but her palm smacked my chest in emphatic agreement. “Exactly. Somebody who makes me laugh when I try not to. And who brings me so much joy that I break out into song like a fucking Disney princess.”
She laughed softly, her voice light with surprise. “Kinda like you, Cruz.”
Her eyes stayed closed as she nuzzled her head into my neck. “As much as I try, I can’t stop myself from liking you. I think,” she yawned, and her words slowed down, trailing off as she finished, “I think if I could fall in love with anybody, it would be you.”
I was so dumbstruck that I said nothing.
I sat silently on her designer couch surrounded by a million neutral throw pillows, and she stayed curled on my lap as she fell asleep in my arms. I don’t know how long I sat there, her head resting on my shoulder, sharing intimacy I never believed was possible with her.
All it took was a liter of whiskey and the promise of a nightmare hangover.
Holding her felt dangerous. I’d had a crush for months—more than a crush, if I was being honest. I’d convinced myself it was unrequited, like my childhood infatuation with Ariana Grande.
I’d seen her on Nickelodeon, admired her from afar, but knew that even if we met she’d look right over me, another face in the crowd.
But Victoria drunkenly admitted to liking me. What was I supposed to do, knowing that?
I should put her to bed. I’d come up here for a noise complaint and stayed to make sure she was safe, that’s all.
I should, and I would.
Soon.
I swear.
But not yet. Because when she sobered up, she’d ice me out again. So I’d soak up this vulnerability, stockpile cozy Cobrita cuddles. My mind looped her words—if I could fall in love with anybody, it would be you—while reminding myself that in the morning, she’d barely remember.
I felt a nudge against my elbow from a smooth gray furball.
Jurisprudence set a gentle paw on the tan pillow beside me.
I shifted, tilting Victoria’s body to balance the requested pillow between the armrest and my thigh.
The cat glared before knocking the pillow onto the ground and curling up on my leg, her fluffy tail batting against my knee.
Not wanting to disturb Victoria, I dozed off with this fierce woman and her fluffy cat settled on my lap.
When the cat leaped off my lap an hour later, I startled awake, jolting the woman whose cold nose was nuzzled into my neck.
Her face flinched before her eyelids blinked open.
She looked up at my face, confusion marring her beautiful features, replaced by a flash of horror …
right before she threw up all over my shirt.