12. Chapter 12
Victoria was laying under the piano. I called her name once more, and she still didn’t respond. I wiggled under the piano and joined her. Lying beside her, I settled in and stared at the underside. Small fingers delicately traced something scrawled there decades ago.
“It’s crazy. If you had asked me earlier when I met my grandmother for the first time, I would have told you when I was twelve. But look,” Victoria said, her voice filled with amazement. She gestured to the markings.
In a very distinct, childish scrawl was the name Tori. I tried to imagine a small version of the woman next to me defacing her grandmother’s prized piano.
I let the name roll off my tongue. “Tori, huh?”
She turned her head, and her eyes lit up. “My mother and grandmother called me that.”
“What is it with nicknames? Nan calls me Andy. She’s the only one I allow to do so,” I said affectionately.
Victoria’s eyes shone with love. “Once I saw it, everything came back to me. I remember my mother and grandmother arguing. No, not about me carving my name here.” She smiled. “I think it was about my father. Funny how I just recalled that.”
“Sometimes our brains create gaps or what I like to call pauses. It’s a way to protect itself. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“I don’t actually remember if I carved it that day or another time. But it’s absolutely my handwriting. Well, it was. It’s much more refined now.”
“Is it?” I teased as her cheeks turned red.
“It would be if I wrote. I spent two long, hard years perfecting my penmanship.”
“Oh, did you get your knuckles whacked by the nuns, too?”
Her face changed immediately, and she looked away.
“Hey, it’s okay. Bad memory?” I inquired.
When she looked back, I damn near choked. The level of vulnerability shining in her eyes took my breath away. Yeah, I’d bet my right arm whatever she was thinking about wasn’t good.
“Actually, it is, but not necessarily my memory. A friend of mine, from a long time ago. I miss her,” she said.
Her voice broke, the sound fragile, shattering the quiet between us. The emotion was sharp, unexpected, and impossible to ignore.
“I miss writing to her and the others. I used to keep journals for them, you know, and I’d write to them throughout the year. It was my way of…of keeping a part of them with me.”
Once more her voice broke, but this time she rolled over into my arms. I lay there holding her as she cried. The ache pouring from her was too much. Somewhere in the depths of my unfolding emotions, I connected with her on another level.
I wanted to take away every bad thing that had happened to her. I wanted to find these friends of hers and reunite them so I could see the reaction on her beautiful face. Wanting, no, needing to do more, the realization struck me solidly in the chest.
Fuck. I wanted more from this woman than what was reasonable.
Rubbing her back, I cooed, “It’s okay, let it all out. I’ve got you, I promise.”
She nestled closer, and I inhaled the clean, fresh scent of her shampoo. I held her until her tears stopped, knowing that aside from my few words, nothing could take her pain away completely.
Her sobs eventually slowed, and the occasional sniffle filled the silence between us. The moment shifted as she pulled away and then shimmied her body from under the piano. Reluctantly, I joined her.
“I’m a complete mess. The way I look right now would have my grandmother absolutely horrified, especially in front of yours. They were friends, you know.”
“I didn’t before, but I do now. However, I doubt she would feel that way. Maybe she is rejoicing with your mother instead.”
“You think?” she asked hopefully.
Her fingers twisted the fabric of her dress, knuckles white with tension she wouldn’t voice.
Something in her gaze, which was currently locked onto the piano, spoke volumes.
Fear and longing woven so tightly together, it was impossible to separate them.
I followed her stare, then turned to her, nodding toward it.
“Do you want to play something?”
Before I finished the question, she took a step back, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides. Fear won out. A sharp shake of her head, frantic and immediate, sent loose strands of hair slipping from behind her ear.
Her breath hitched, and her throat moved in a hard swallow. When she blinked, I caught the sheen in her eyes before she dropped her gaze to the floor.
“It’s okay, it’s not going anywhere.”
I pulled her back into my arms, relieved when she didn’t resist—thankful she allowed me the privilege.
Because I certainly didn’t fucking deserve it.
Not after last night. The tension eased, and one of her hands clutched the fabric of my shirt.
I pressed a hand against the small of her back, anchoring her to me.
“Can I tell you something without you getting upset?” she asked.
The way her voice trembled and her brow furrowed had me concerned. I cradled her face, getting lost in her hazel eyes.
“Of course you can. I don’t think I could ever be upset with you. And just so we’re clear, I wasn’t upset with you last night. That was all saved for myself.”
She heaved a sigh in my arms. The rise and fall of her chest pressing against me was everything. She simply fit. I tightened my hold, sensing that what she had to say was significant. But whatever it was, I would take it.
“Angel?” I prompted.
“The day Marcus choked Nigel, Cameron was livid. He asked me to do something. It’s rather silly, honestly, because it’s not feasible: what he wants.”
I forced my body to relax. The last thing I wanted was for her to pull away. Lowering my head, I pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, letting my lips rest there for a second longer than necessary. It was my way of making a promise. I wasn’t going anywhere.
“And what did he ask of you?”
“He wants me to make you fall in love with me. And then make a big show of choosing to go with him instead. I have no idea what will happen when he doesn’t get the reaction he’s looking for. It’s completely childish.”
Breathe, I yelled at myself. Every single insecure feeling I had rose to the surface, and I had to work hard at keeping calm. With her head nestled against my chest and her soft hair tickling my face, that gut-punching sensation once more flooded my senses.
I’d never allowed myself to fall for any woman. I had a plethora of excuses to choose from at any moment in my life, but the reality was I’d let that one incident direct much of my adult dating life.
“I’m not surprised, really. Your husband used to bully me back when I was younger,” I admitted.
“Why does that not surprise me?” she whispered.
“He pulled that exact stunt when we were thirteen. Some things never change. He had a pretty girl befriend me, ask me to the winter formal, and when I picked her up, he was waiting there to humiliate me.”
“Again, not surprising,” she mumbled.
“Thing is, that one incident and his awful existence led to me making the best mates a man can have in life. As hard as it was to go through, I wouldn’t change it for anything. Thank you for trusting me with this information.”
“You’re welcome. I thought you should know, not that I think you’re falling for me or anything foolish like that,” she said with a small chuckle.
“Would you like to know how I repaid his ‘kindness’ back in the day?”
She nodded but didn’t speak, so I continued on.
“When I was thirteen, I hadn’t hit puberty completely yet, so I was short. I also binged food to cope with loneliness, so I was royally fat. I’m talking somewhere between five or six stone more than I should have weighed.”
“Really? I would never have guessed,” she murmured as her hands ran across my stomach and up my chest.
“Everyone says that. But I can assure you if you look hard enough around this house, you’re bound to find a picture with the proof.” I chuckled, knowing Nan, there were photo albums too. So many of them it would be embarrassing to admit.
“Anyway, once Ivan and I became close, I started working out, fought all the urges in the world to self-sabotage, and ate better. I grew several inches and dropped weight like crazy. By the time I was fifteen, I was a completely different person.”
“Is that so?” she asked, still running her hands up and down my body. I bit back a groan.
“By seventeen, I’d gained muscle mass to further make me more formidable. I’d already dealt with Cameron by then on some levels. Now extend me some grace and remember, I was seventeen at the time.”
“Uh oh, this sounds serious.”
There was a lightness in her tone, and it made me long to hear it more. We were having a very real, casual conversation, and it was progress.
“Oh, quite serious. Promise me you won’t judge me too harshly.” I paused, waiting for her word.
“I promise,” she breathed.
“Your husband’s girlfriend at the time was none other than the same girl he tricked into pretending to like me. She apparently appreciated the changes I’d gone through and flirted with me one afternoon. Her mistake was that she did it in front of Sebastian.”
“Is he one of your friends?”
“Yes, and his hatred for your husband was right up there with mine and one thing led to another and on the night of the spring formal, I may have asked her to dance with me.”
“Is that all?” Victoria laughed.
“No. Although in hindsight, it should have ended there. I’ll skip to the part where the crew and I…ended up in the boy’s locker room with her. I may have had sex with her.” I rubbed the back of my head, feeling petty as the words left my mouth.
“May have?”
Ignoring her questioning tone, I rushed on. “Of course, Cameron came in several minutes before while she was…how do I say this tactfully?” I paused. Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “She was showing off her oral skills on the guys.”
“Guys?” she choked.
“Not all of them. Ivan wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. It was completely consensual, I promise. She actually offered, and who were we to say no…we were seventeen. Anyway, Ivan made him watch me fuck her. Hence why he was probably so mad that night at the auction house.”
“Perspective is everything, isn’t it?” she murmured, content to stay in my arms.
“Oh, pardon me,” Nana said.
I groaned at the interruption. Victoria pulled away, and to my surprise, she rushed over to my grandmother.
“Eleanor, I can’t tell you how special this day has been. I thought this piano was gone forever. My grandmother always longed for me to play it again.”
“Well, now you can. Tell me your address, and I’ll have it delivered right away. It’s yours. I was thrilled when I stumbled upon it at the auction house.”
Victoria stiffened in her arms for obvious reasons. Nan ignored it and doubled down on her fierce hug, not letting her go.
“I can hold on to it for as long as you need,” she murmured, and Victoria relaxed.
Somehow, my Nan always knew the right thing to say. I couldn’t have loved her more than I did at that moment.