41. Chapter 41
Lili
The room is dark when I wake up. I blink into the darkness, trying to remember how I fell asleep.
My face is warm and slick with sweat, resting against Victor’s chest. Slowly the scene comes back to me.
The way he gave me the pain I was craving.
The way we both took Grace, and all fell over the edge together.
Tears well in my eyes, and I sit up, forcing them away.
I’m not going to cry. This is what I need to do.
Grace stirs on the other side of Victor as I slide out of bed. I round the foot of it, and press a kiss to her forehead, then begin gathering my clothes.
I take my time getting dressed, stealing glances at the people I love sleeping next to each other.
Victor sits up as I’m straightening my dress over my hips.
“I know you weren’t trying to sneak out of here.”
I don’t answer, just walk to the bathroom and wash my face and stare at myself in the mirror for a moment. The questions start again. Am I making the right choice? I have been loved well by these two. And I love them deeply.
And that’s exactly why I’m leaving, I remind myself. I’m leaving because they deserve the healed version of me. The version of me that takes space for herself to grow and unlearn the negativity that was beaten into me as part of my marriage.
I don’t even know if I’m capable of being a person who isn’t in survival mode. This space I’m taking is to figure out who she is.
Victor is building a life where Grace can heal. I don’t know what I’m building yet, and the version of myself that currently exists would eventually crack something between us if I bring her into this house.
That’s the part I’m having trouble saying out loud to either of them.
When I come back into the bedroom, Grace is pulling on clothes, her face puffy from sleep. Victor is in the closet, pulling on dark jeans and a gray shirt. He pauses and stares at me when I lean against the door to the closet.
“I’ll load the car,” he says.
“Vic. You don’t have to. I was going to call a car.”
He lets out a short laugh. “You’re insane if you think we’re not taking you to the airport.”
I sigh but agree. It will be nice to take the drive with both of them.
The three of us move downstairs, and Grace sits on the couch while Victor gathers my things to load into the car.
I sit next to Grace and pick up her hand. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I press a kiss to her hair.
“I need you to be OK,” I murmur against her curls.
“I will be,” she says, then pauses. “Eventually.”
I tighten my arm around her, and we sit quietly for a moment. Then I stand and offer her my hand. “Come on. Let’s meet Victor at the car.”
We walk out as Victor is pulling his car up to the porch. Grace takes the passenger seat, which means I’m in the back. It’s probably the right arrangement. I need the distance of a seat between us so I can keep my head clear.
The drive is quiet at first as we pass the barren desert before reaching the city lights come into view.
I’ve lived in Las Vegas long enough that the lights stopped impressing me a long time ago.
But tonight, I’m mesmerized as we drive the freeway parallel to The Strip.
We pass the Pink Sapphire and I’m overwhelmed with memories of meeting Victor.
Our beginning was strange, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
After an hour long drive, Victor pulls to the curb at the terminal and jumps out, leaving the engine running.
At least he didn’t park and try to walk me in.
That would have been too much. He gets my bag from the trunk and sets it on the sidewalk next to me, then stands in front of me with his hands in his pockets.
Grace is staring out the passenger window at us.
“Lili.”
“Don’t try to stop me.”
“I’m not.” He holds my gaze. “I just want to remind you I am not a patient man. You’re getting your way by leaving, but if you’re gone longer than I can stand, I’m going to come find you.”
“You don’t even know where I’m going.”
He smirks, and my heart breaks a fraction more. “You and I both know I’ll find you if I have to.”
“Please let me do this my way, Vic.”
“I am.” He steps forward and presses his lips to my forehead. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to be impatient about it.”
Grace opens the door and steps out as he pulls away. At first she doesn’t say anything, just wraps her arms around me and holds on. I let her stay as long as she needs.
When she finally pulls back, her eyes are bright with unshed tears.
I am grateful for that. Seeing her cry standing on the curb would have been too much.
“I love you, Lili,” she whispers. “I hope you find what you need and hurry back to us.” Then she stands up on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to my lips.
With a heavy sigh, I pick up my bag. “I’ll call,” I say. To both of them, but I’m looking at Victor when I say it.
He nods and murmurs, “I love you.”
I walk through the doors without responding. If I speak or look back, I won’t get on the plane.
But once I’m through security, I pull out my phone and start a group text with both of them.
Lili: I love you too.
Grace
I stare after Lili for a long moment, until an airport security guard blows his whistle and tells us we have to move.
Victor hurries and opens the front passenger door, and I slide in, pulling my seatbelt across me as he rounds the car and climbs behind the wheel.
The back seat is empty. It’s the first thing I notice as Victor checks his mirrors and pulls away from the curb, merging into traffic leading away from the terminal.
I stare in the rearview mirror at the seat Lili occupied on the way here. It’s empty, and my heart is heavy. There’s nothing but leather staring back at me for the long drive home.
The airport disappears as I stare out the passenger window, and I wonder which plane will be taking Lili away from me. Away from us.
The city is lit up the way it always is at night.
Bright with energy and excitement, completely clueless as to what just happened at the airport.
I press my fingers into my thigh and focus on the pressure.
I made it through the goodbye, I made it through the hug and through watching her walk through those doors without looking back.
There’s no way I’m going to fall apart on the freeway.
I breathe out slowly and close my eyes for a few minutes. Victor remains quiet, and I’m grateful. The sound of his voice might undo me right now.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I fish it out, expecting something routine. Instead, I see a text from Lili. It’s group text to me and Victor. The message is four words.
Lili: I love you too.
I stare at it long enough that Victor notices. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is better.
” I show him the message and he gives me a small smile.
She couldn’t say it at the curb, and I didn’t blame her for it.
Now I know she needed to get through the doors first, to be on the other side of security, where she was committed to going and doing what she needs to do.
I set the phone face-down on my leg and stare at the passing street lamps, and remind myself that this is what she needs.
Loving us from a safe distance is what she can offer, and I have to take that.
For now.
I hope she knows how much I understand what she’s doing and why.
We stop at a red light somewhere near the edge of the Strip. Victor doesn’t look at me when I glance his direction. He just reaches across the console and picks up my hand, wrapping it inside his without a word.
My eyes fill.
The light turns green, and he drives the rest of the way one-handed, my hand still caught in his as the city fades around us and we get further from the lights and the noise.
I watch the passing desert, mostly dark shadows and very little light, and think about how different the drive home is without her. Three of us got into this car, and only two are in it now. That math hurts. Even if it’s temporary.
She’s coming back. I have to believe that.
Victor pulls into the driveway and sits for a moment with both hands back on the wheel, not moving or speaking.
I watch the side of his face in the dark and try to read what is happening in there the way he always reads me.
The pain of leaving Lili at the airport is visible in little ways that most might not notice.
The tightness in his jaw, the way he grips the steering wheel a little too hard.
I reach over and squeeze his shoulder, a quiet reassurance that I’m here and not going anywhere.
He glances at me and tucks a curl behind my ear, then climbs out of the car, and comes around to open my door.
The house feels empty when we walk through the door. I stop at the bottom of the stairs and take a deep breath to prevent the tears from flowing. The spot where Lili’s suitcase sat all day is empty now. Just like the backseat, and I press a hand to my heart. God this hurts.
Victor’s hand finds the small of my back and steers me gently toward the stairs.
He doesn’t turn any lights on in the bedroom, and I kick my shoes off inside the door.
The sheets on the bed are still rumpled from this afternoon, and a single tear drips down my cheek.
Victor pulls the covers back and motions for me to climb in.
I pull my dress off before obeying, not caring that I’ve let it crumple on the floor.
For once, Victor doesn’t scold or say anything.
He simply strips off his shirt and lets it join my dress, then settles beside me and pulls me against his chest. I let the weight and warmth of him be the thing that holds me together.
I press my palm flat against his bare skin, and allow myself to be lulled by the slow and steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
There are things racing through my mind that I could tell him, things I could say to fill the silence.
I could assure him we’ll be okay. Even though I’m not feeling it right now.
I could tell him how scared I am that she won’t come back, but I know that’s just the fear talking, and I won’t let fear control me anymore.
She’ll be back. I could tell him how grateful I am that he’s in my life, supporting me through this.
That I find solace in the little things, like the way he held my hand on the drive home.
But none of it feels necessary. The silence feels right. So I don’t say any of it.
I just lay there with my hand over his heartbeat and let the quiet and darkness of the room surround us. The heaviness in my heart is still there, but letting him hold me like this is enough to lighten the load. At least for tonight.
And I know we’ll face tomorrow together too.