Chapter 5
Victor
“VIC?!” Gabbi blasts through the door with her hair on fire. I can hear her heels clicking across the wood floors, and it’s like they’re getting angrier the closer she gets. The entrance, then the hallway, the kitchen, the dining room…and here she comes.
When Gabbi flies through the entrance of the living room, it’s the most animated I’ve seen her when speaking to me in over a year.
“What, Gabbi?” That came out harsher than planned.
She stomps across the Persian rug in the living room where I’m sitting on our cream-colored leather chaise lounge, watching some random shit on TV.
Why is everything in here some shade of cream color?
I feel like I’m in an issue of Better Homes and Gardens.
The look on Gabbi’s face dropkicks the stupid thought from my brain, and I see how pissed she is. She’s kind of fucking adorable when she’s mad. “That is one hell of a scowl on your face, G. What did I do now?”
“What did you do?” Uh oh, that’s never good when she repeats my question.
Brace for impact, “Please tell me why I just got off the phone with Emma Harris, where she told me how sorry she is to hear about where our marriage is and not to give up hope, and that she and Tyson are moving next door in two fucking weeks.” Oh shit.
I sigh while rubbing the back of my neck.
Thanks, Ty. “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you that they were looking to move to a suburban area to get Trip out of the city life.
I had mentioned that our neighbors put their house up for sale a few months ago, and it would be great to have them close again.
Gabbi, you and Emma were super close. I don’t see the issue.
” My voice is reserved and calm so as not to piss her off more.
Remembering the time my dad told me to speak with a calming monotone voice when encountering a wild animal during our hunts.
“The issue, Victor, is that this amazing couple that we used to have so much fun with and were inseparable from, now know that we’re struggling and might not….” She abruptly pauses and closes her eyes, like she just caught her words before escaping her perfect lips.
“Might not what, Gabriella? Might not make it?” My voice is more on the annoyed side of anger. I just don’t have it in me to get angry anymore. What’s the point?
“Yes,” she breathes, her tone is tired and defeated.
Standing and shutting the TV off, I walk toward her, not close enough to touch her, but close enough that her intoxicating smell grips hold of my lungs.
God, I miss that smell. Lilies and ginger, so light and clean, triggering memories of caresses and kisses.
My dick twitches at the thought of how, for most of our marriage, we couldn’t get enough of each other, couldn’t get our bodies close enough.
I remember Gabbi telling me one time that she wanted to crawl inside my skin just to be closer to me.
“Vic.” Gabbi’s irritated voice snaps me out of my daze.
Closing my eyes to get out of my head, I shoot a reality check to my groin.
She doesn’t want us, buddy, relax. I open my eyes to meet her chocolate brown gaze, “Gabbi, you know I tell Ty everything. He is my oldest friend. Our oldest friend.” Now I sound irritated, “I mean, we’ve all known each other since elementary school.
He knows everything. I’m sorry if that upsets you that he discussed our situation with his wife, but what do you want me to do, G?
I’m fucking trying here.” Am I, though? Am I really trying?
She just stands there, almost looking bored.
“Fuck this.” I huff out quietly, walking behind the couch to the handcrafted cream-colored, because everything is fucking cream-colored, bar and grab the bottle of Jack Daniels, not slowing a step as I head out through the kitchen to the garage.
Before the door to the garage shuts, I yell out, “By the way, the whole team knows about the six-month timeline, too.” I hear curses fly from her mouth as the door shuts.
Oh well. I take a swig of Jack straight from the bottle.
Time to numb.