Chapter 27
VICTOR
Every muscle in my body ached like fuck. I’d been hauling bricks and rubble for most of the day, and I had to stop sleeping on the fucking floor of that shithole I now called home.
Enzo was coming round tonight with takeout, and I had to admit it would be good to see a friendly face. It’d been a while.
So, I had ordered a bed, and I was mid-building it when the buzzer crackled to life. I groaned and stretched, preparing myself for Enzo’s reaction to my new place. I buzzed him in and waited at the open door, taking in his shocked expression as he made it upstairs.
“It’s above a wine shop.” Enzo raised his eyebrows and held out a takeout bag.
“I told you that,” I muttered, taking the bag from him. The food smelled delicious. I pulled out two noodle boxes and then frowned. I didn’t have any fucking cutlery.
“Forks are in the bag,” Enzo said, reading my mind. “I didn’t think you’d have time to pick any up.”
I nodded gratefully and tore open a box of deliciousness. “Thanks, man.”
Enzo stared around us, sucking in air through his teeth.
Forking noodles into my mouth, I saw the room as he was probably seeing it—a fucking shit tip.
“I know.” I glanced at him. “I need to do it up or something.”
“Something? Burn it maybe?” Enzo scoffed, sitting on the camp bed carefully, like he was afraid it was going to buckle beneath him.
“It’s the best I could do.”
Enzo shrugged before tearing open his noodle box. “It’s your own space, I guess. What are you building?”
I stared down at the base of the bed and lifted a brow. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s a bed.”
Enzo squinted. “Ah yeah. Fuck, it sucks to be you.”
I exhaled through my nose and focused on my food, wondering how long he was planning on staying. He wasn’t doing much to bring my mood up, that was for sure.
“So, wanna help me build it?”
“Sure. Let me eat this first.” Enzo frowned, like he had something to say but didn’t know how to say it.
“What?” I asked, shovelling food into my mouth. It was so fucking good. I’d been living off sandwiches and whatever I could grab from the 7-Eleven.
“Lila’s back.” Enzo dropped his gaze and I suddenly felt sick.
“She is?”
I hadn’t looked at her social media in a few days.
It wasn’t healthy stalking her like I was, so I tried to focus on other stuff.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled to her profile, and sure enough, the latest image was of a coffee cup in front of a row of houses that looked familiar but none of which was ours.
I squinted and zoomed in, peering at the screen.
“Where is she?” I muttered, turning my head to get a better look.
“Her mother’s,” Enzo answered through a mouthful of noodles.
My head whipped up. “How do you know that and I don’t?”
Enzo coloured. “Vanessa told me.”
“Huh.” I studied him for a beat. “Since when are you and my sister best buddies?”
Enzo folded his carton up and shrugged. “I saw her yesterday, that's all. Right, shall we build a bed?”
“Have you even finished your food?” I nodded to the carton as he shrugged.
“I’m not that hungry.”
He could’ve seen Vanessa anywhere, of course, but something told me he was seeing my sister on purpose.
Suppose he did bump into her at the store, sure.
But he couldn’t meet my eyes. I sighed. I didn’t give a shit what other people were doing; I needed to focus on getting my wife to even speak to me.
“How is she?” I asked, tossing my carton onto the kitchen counter before joining Enzo on the floor.
“Vanessa?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, Lila.”
Enzo studied the instruction booklet before reaching for a screw. “I dunno. Why don’t you message her and ask?”
“Because she won’t speak to me.”
We worked in silence until the base was sturdy, then we grabbed the mattress leaning against the wall. Together, we laid it onto the bed, and I yawned.
“Are you going to let her go?” Enzo asked finally, picking up the cartons and tossing them into a trash bag.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m not letting her go—she’s divorcing me. She’s selling the fucking house. She won’t take my calls or respond to my texts. There’s not really a lot I can do, Enzo.”
“Maybe go and see her at her mom’s.”
I snorted. “She’d get a restraining order against me.”
I didn’t doubt it either—she would. Lila hated my guts.
“What about the other chick? Have you heard from her?”
I had. Nearly every fucking day Cami would message me, telling me if I was finally single, we could be together. She’d even said I could move into her place.
Fuck, no.
I may have been a prick, but losing Lila had made me see how much I loved her. How good we’d had it. Why hadn’t we just fucking communicated? She’d communicated enough afterwards, hadn’t she?
Burning my truck was a fucking bummer.
But I couldn’t help the smile that played on my lips, because it meant she fucking cared.
That had to mean something.
Maybe I should contact her again. Just one more time.
Enzo left like he couldn’t wait to get away, back to his decent home.
I couldn’t blame him. I laid on my new bed, my muscles screaming.
I just wanted to reach out and touch Lila.
To smell her hair, feel her warm breath on my chest. I’d live here happily if it meant I was with Lila. I’d live anywhere with Lila.
A lump formed in my throat, and I reached for my phone before I could change my mind.
Victor: Hey, I’m just wondering how you are. I can’t stop thinking about you. I love you so fucking much, baby.