Chapter 20
VICTOR
Istared at Lila’s Instagram page, unable to believe what I was seeing.
It was a selfie of her looking absolutely stunning, her cheeks flushed with excitement and a wide smile on her face, accompanied with the caption: Greece, here I come!
The navy airplane seat with the little white slip over it beside an airplane window was unmistakable.
She was flying to Greece without me. She’d always wanted to go, but I’d insisted on local travel, or the Caribbean. But now, there was no ‘me’ to consult. With a divorce pending, Lila could do whatever the fuck she wanted.
And whoever.
The thought came out of nowhere, and bile rose in my throat at the thought of Lila with someone else. My body shook in protest, my teeth ground together, and I wanted to punch a wall.
Considering I was staying with my mother, I knew better than to follow that through.
Still. Greece was a long way from me. Too far. And she’d gone alone?! I could only imagine the vultures descending on my beautiful wife, local men offering to carry her suitcase, and pour her wine…
Oh god. What the fuck have I done?
“I can’t believe this,” I muttered.
“What?” my mom asked, looking up from her magazine.
I’d forgotten she was even there. “Uh, Lila has gone to Greece.”
Mom arched her brow. “Oh? Who with?”
I stared back at the smiling image of Lila, my heart twisting. “Alone.”
“Oh? Very Shirley Valentine.” Mom laughed, then caught my expression and schooled her features accordingly. “Son, you need to focus on your life, not hers. Lila is trying to cope with losing her husband to some other woman. She probably feels like dog shit.”
“Thanks, Mom. You have a way with words.”
“Listen, when you’re a woman, everything matters. Your looks, your clothes, your personality, even your voice. Everyone judges you, every minute of the day.” She pinned me with a stern look. “Then if your husband does the dirty on you, you feel like you’re not good enough anymore.”
“I know, Ma.” I did know. I knew it all. I’d fucked up, screwed my wife over royally.
“You don’t, Victor. Imagine Lila doing this to you, and the man sending you a video of them being intimate.”
I closed my eyes, forcing the image from my brain, because it made me want to smash up the house. Lila wrapping her legs around someone, throwing her head back in ecstasy—nope, I couldn’t do it.
But Lila had had to.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“So, she’s probably going to Greece to find herself again.
Lick her wounds in private.” Mom sighed.
“You know, I will never understand you. You and Lila were a fairytale couple. You were so in love.” Her voice cracked a little.
“And for what, Victor? Some hot piece of ass? At your age.” She tutted and went back to her magazine.
“Now you’ve got no job, no wife, no truck, no home—”
I cut her off. “I know. Don’t you think I know?
” I shoved the chair back, wincing as it scraped along the floor.
“I want to fly to Greece and beg her to take me back, but she won’t.
I know Lila, and I’ve never seen her like this.
And the divorce and house…” I exhaled heavily, my fists clenched by my sides. “I’m a fuck up, but I know it.”
Mom looked at me before shaking her head. “So, are you are going to leave her alone?”
I shook my head. “No, but I have to give her what she wants for now. She deserves peace.”
It was hard to admit, but I didn’t ever want to take away her peace. I loved Lila with my heart and soul, and I couldn’t imagine her living in sadness because of me. I would rather die.
And ironically, that’s what this felt like. Like I was grieving the loss of my wife, like she’d died. Because I couldn’t reach out and touch her, hold her, or even speak to her. It didn’t matter whether she was living two blocks away or living in Greece.
I couldn’t reach her. Not even when she stood directly in front of me.
“Well, you’re a man. A man can’t cope without a job. Go and sort that out—that much you can control.”
Mom was right, of course. I’d not drunk as much since staying here, but it was driving me crazy. All I could do was think. And I’d thought enough.
It was time to eat humble pie or start looking for another job.
Fuck humble pie.
That prick of a boss never liked me.
I grabbed Mom’s laptop and started a job search, feeling like I was carrying the weight of the house on my shoulders. Everything felt so heavy lately, and I only had myself to blame.
Sex with Cami was nothing compared to being with Lila. But it had made me feel wanted, and Lila hadn’t. Shitty excuse, I knew, but it was the truth.
Cami wasn’t Lila—she never could be, even if she tried. But I wasn’t looking for another Lila—I had perfection. She just hadn’t wanted me.
I bowed my head, then focused on the one thing I could control: a job. When the house sold—damn, it hurt to even think about—I could put some money down on a new place. Nothing like that house, of course, but fuck. My own place, where I didn’t have someone calling me a prick constantly.
I pushed away thoughts of my wife tanning on a beach without me and began applying for jobs.
I had to. Or I’d lose my mind.