Chapter 8
VICTOR
There was a knock at Enzo’s door, and I sighed, wondering who it could be this time. I’d only been back from work for an hour, and Enzo had more regular deliveries than a restaurant. I swung the door open to see a young guy in a cap giving me a once-over.
“Are you Victor Rossi?”
Okay, maybe not a delivery for Enzo.
“Yeah?” I stared at the envelope in his hands, which he thrust into mine.
“You’ve been served.”
My stomach churned, and I had to grip the door for stability.
“Wait, what?” I called after him, but he ignored me, taking a photograph of me standing in the doorway like a fucking statue.
I stared down at the thick manila envelope with my name printed on the front, my heart thumping in my chest.
“Baby, no…” I whispered, staggering back into the house like I’d been punched. My hands trembled as I tore open the envelope, reaching inside for the dreaded papers I never thought I’d see.
I was greeted with a summons, informing me that a divorce case had been filed, and I had a limited time to respond.
The world tilted as I moved the summons with shaking hands, finding the petition of divorce beneath it.
Her name was printed in black ink.
Lila Eliza Rossi—Petitioner, and across from it, Victor Marco Rossi—Respondent.
“Fuck!” I slammed my fists into the table, letting out a feral roar.
I can’t lose her. I can’t.
But inside, I knew I already had. Lila would never do this to us—never—if I hadn’t destroyed us first. I could fight her on this, beg her to take me back, or I could give her what she wanted.
A divorce.
My fucking god. Pain rippled through my stomach, climbing to my chest with ease, spreading through every cell until I was doubled over in agony.
Lila wants a divorce.
A sob left my lips, and I closed my fist, smacking my head repeatedly.
What a fucking fool I’d been.
I stared at the papers for what felt like minutes but was likely much longer. The house grew dark, and I didn’t bother to turn on the lights.
I didn’t care.
Lila wanted a divorce.
The only good thing I’d ever had in my life, and she was leaving me—and rightly fucking so.
Then the door opened, and I squinted when the light flooded the room, revealing Enzo in the doorway, frowning at me.
“What the fuck, man? Are you turning into a vampire now?”
“She wants a divorce.” I pointed at the papers. “She’s leaving me.”
Enzo grimaced and tossed his keys onto the table. “Yeah. Vanessa told me.”
“You’ve been with Vanessa?” I asked, straightening up. “Did she say how Lila is?”
Enzo made a face. “Oh, she’s swell. How do you think she is?” He slouched onto the couch, his head in his hands.
“Jeez, what crawled up your ass?” I muttered, turning back to the papers I wished I could burn.
“Your sister met Cami tonight.”
I almost choked on my tongue. “What?!”
And Enzo explained about how he’d gone with her to the bar where Cami worked, and what had happened next.
I stared at Enzo, unable to believe what he was telling me.
“She did what?”
“Vanessa attacked Cami. Smashed her head into a fucking hand dryer.”
The blood drained from my face. This wasn’t surprising — my sister was crazy. She once flushed someone’s wedding ring down the toilet because they’d pissed her off, but physical violence was something I hadn’t seen from her in a long time.
“Fucking Jesus. Is Cami alive?” God, if my sister had killed her…
Enzo cleared his throat. “She’s fine. I drove back and checked. But Vanessa needs…” He ran his hand over his head. “I don’t know, a fucking therapist or something. Who does that?”
“My sister,” I said, rubbing my stubble. “Fuck, this is such a mess.”
“You’re damn straight,” Enzo responded. “And it’s your mess. You need to man up and sign those divorce papers and end this shit before it gets any worse.”
I loved the bones of this man, but fucking hell. Sometimes he was too blunt.
“I can’t sign these,” I whispered, my head in my hands. “Not without talking to her.”
Lila wouldn’t take my calls or respond to my texts. I’d given her space, and now she’d had me served with divorce papers? I should have gone home and made her talk to me.
“Then do it. Go over there right now and talk to her, but whatever you do, avoid your sister. I think she’ll kill you.”
“We’ve been there already.”
“She’s met Cami now.” Enzo shook his head. “What were you thinking? She’s no Lila.”
I scowled at him. There was a time where I was sure he had feelings for Lila, but it must’ve been my insecurity raising its ugly head because they’ve always been great friends and nothing more.
But now she wanted a divorce, and my best friend could swoop in there and move in.
Fucking Jesus, what am I thinking?
Enzo would never do that to me. He may be pissed at me for upsetting her because she’s his friend too. But his loyalties lie with me.
“As helpful as ever, Enzo.” I rose to my feet, grabbing the keys to my truck. “Don’t wait up, will you?”
“You’ll be back in ten minutes when she refuses to talk to your sorry ass.” He grinned at me and I flipped him the middle finger.
“Fuck you.”
“You wish.”
Some things never changed.
I drove faster through the slick streets than I’d ever driven in my life, my heart racing the whole time.
Would she answer the door?
Would she let me in?
Would she even look at me?
Fuck, I felt sick. I would beg her, even if I had to get on my hands and fucking knees. I’d do it. I’d eat shit if it meant she’d hear me out, but I still didn’t know what to say.
When I pulled onto our road, my heart sank; our familiar house pulling up on my right treacherously made my body relax like I was home.
Except I wasn’t allowed inside. I couldn’t even sleep in my own bed, next to my own fucking wife.
The pricks next door had their car parked partially over our drive again, but this time it didn’t invoke rage within me.
I just felt sad.
Once upon a time, that would have been the worst part of my day. Now I’d kill to go back to that. To moaning to Lila about how rude they were while she played with my hair.
God, what I'd do for her to touch me again.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply before exiting the truck. Rain greeted me, along with a cold breeze. My legs felt like I was wearing concrete boots, like I was carrying timber on my shoulders that was far too heavy for me.
I knocked on my own door, bowing my head.
It was time to beg my wife for forgiveness.