Chapter 31
VICTOR
Cami: Come and see me, I miss you.
Cami: Do you miss this?
(IMAGE)
“Jesus.” I deleted the image of Cami on all fours naked, because it reminded me what a shit husband I was.
Not that I needed reminding of that.
I sucked on the Styrofoam coffee cup and stared at the building site where men sat eating lunches their wives had probably lovingly made. They were husbands, and they had no idea how lucky that made them. Here I was, getting filthy photos from a younger woman, and all I wanted was my wife.
My pregnant wife.
I was hungry, but I felt sick every time I ate anything. Mom had summoned me to her house tonight for dinner, and I knew it was because she knew about the baby. Vanessa must’ve told her because I hadn’t.
I remembered Lila’s words last night; that she needed me to continue paying the mortgage.
How the fuck was I supposed to do that while paying for the flat too?
I couldn’t move back in with my mom or Enzo—fuck no. Neither had offered it, but I couldn’t cope with the thought of it. If it came to it, I’d sleep on the streets so Lila could continue living in her home.
I logged into my bank account, my stomach dropping when I saw I was already at a minus. The mortgage needed paying in what, a week?
Fuck.
I needed to find some money and fast.
“Want some?”
I looked up to see Terry, one of the guys, offering me a tuna sandwich in cellophane wrap. His belly entered the room before he did, but he didn’t care. He was always jolly and positive and was one of the oldest men here. I was only here on an agency contract; he’d worked here since he was young.
“The wife always makes too many, then she moans I need to lose weight. Look at the mayo on that!” Terry chortled, nodding at the sandwich.
The fact his wife had made it made me take it, for starters.
I was done disappointing wives.
It tasted so good, a home-made sandwich packed with salad too. I didn’t complain about the mayo as I wolfed it down.
“You needed that,” Terry said, frowning at me. “Are you alright, son?”
I balled up the wrap as I finished and nodded.
“I’ve been better, I’ll be honest.”
“You walk to work, don’t you?” Terry peered at me. “Where from?”
I sighed and nodded to the metal gates that led down the street. “A way down there.”
Terry followed my gaze, humming to himself. “How come you’re here on agency? You’re not young, no offense.”
I barked out a laugh as Alec stopped by, sucking on a soda.
“Yeah, how come you’re here on agency?”
Nosey bastard.
I stared at the ground and sniffed. “I lost my job.”
“What for?”
“Fighting.”
Terry’s eyes widened. “Fighting? At your age?”
“I’m not even fifty, Terry,” I shot back, and Alec sniggered.
“You look it.”
“Get fucked,” I told him, and he grinned.
“I’m teasing you, man.”
Something made me keep confessing.
“Lost my truck, too.”
I knew they were gonna ask questions, but I was so fucking tired.
“Yeah? How?” Alec was watching me with interest.
“My wife set it on fire.”
Both men stared at me.
“The fuck?” Alec muttered, and Terry made a face, his eyes wide.
“Jeez, man, what did you do to her?”
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. “I fucked up. Another woman.”
“Oh, boy,” Alec crowed. “Been there, done that. My wife ran off to Mexico.”
“Mexico?” I echoed, and he nodded.
Mine went to Greece.
“You’re down on your luck. That’s all,” Terry said, rolling his eyes at Alec. “If we can help…”
“We? I’m a busy man; I can’t help no one.” Alec grunted, stomping away. “Volunteering me up for shit, like I’m on community service.”
Terry waved him off. “Ignore him. We all screw up. Just shout if you need another sandwich or something.”
I perked up at this, an idea forming in my mind.
“I don’t suppose you know of any other work going?”
Terry scratched his bald head and hummed again.
“I don’t. But I can keep my ears open. But son, you already work morning till evening here. What time have you got spare?”
“Any,” I replied, searching the sea of faces on the building site. Someone must know something going locally. “Nights, probably.”
Terry huffed. “You look half-dead now, no offense. Nights would probably finish you off.”
“I don’t have a choice,” I explained, remembering Lila’s face as she’d told me she was pregnant.
“Do I pay you to sit and chat all day?” the boss’s voice boomed from across the site.
I jumped to my feet, turning back to the wheelbarrow behind me.
I couldn’t lose this fucking job.
Cami: Victor, we need to talk. You can’t just ignore me, dammit! Don’t make me contact HER again.
That stopped me. The last thing I needed was for Cami to contact a pregnant Lila.
Nope. No way.
Victor: It's over. Stop messaging me. Leave my wife alone.
The little bubbles showed me she was typing, and I groaned. It was never going to be easy, was it, having an affair? I’m such a fucking idiot.
Cami: You don’t get to use me and throw me away like trash, you bastard!
Oh, fuck. I really didn’t care about Cami, but I cared about Lila and any stress going her way because of me. I kicked the dirt and shoved my phone in my pocket, aware of my boss’s eyes on me.
What the fuck do I do?