Chapter 38
VICTOR
She hated me. Lila Rossi could not fucking stand me.
The way she looked at me, like I disgusted her. Which I supposed I did.
I was heading to the bus stop, replaying our interactions over and over. How she’d looked when she’d asked if I was sick, like she’d happily shoot me between the eyes and put me out of my misery if I was.
Or when she’d told me I was basically a fucking lodger.
A lodger in my own home, for fuck’s sake.
But my god, it was so good to be out of that apartment. I’d left everything I’d bought in it—the next poor bastard that moved in could have it.
Not that I could afford it, I just didn’t need to bring it home when I knew there was a decent enough bed there. Plus, it was probably contaminated from where it had been.
I shuddered, checking the road before I crossed it. It was raining again, which was just great. Another night walking around in the rain wouldn’t do my cold much good. It wasn’t that bad, just the sniffles really. I wouldn’t put Lila or the baby at risk if I was seriously sick.
The wind whipped around me, and I ducked my head, already counting down the hours until I could be back in bed, in a nice warm house.
With my wife sleeping metres away from me.
Fuck, it was so hard seeing her.
The number of times my fingers itched to reach for her, to drop to my knees and kiss her stomach, to tell our baby that Daddy was home. Or how I wanted to hold her while she slept, so she felt safe and protected.
I’d watched her sleep before I’d woken her, and I’d almost lost it. She’d twitched in her sleep, her brows drawn into a frown despite dreaming. The way her hair—
God, I needed to stop this. It wasn’t healthy. I wanted her back, but she couldn’t stand me.
But one step at a time—I was now in the same house as her. It was pathetic how much that mattered to me.
I gazed at the cars as they passed me, which made me miss my truck even more. I’d never felt like such a waste of fucking space as I did right now—catching buses and working two jobs on no sleep at my age was absurd.
Sleep. I missed that too, but tomorrow was Sunday, which meant I could sleep all day if I wanted to. Lila would probably prefer it if I did, then she wouldn’t have to see me.
I checked the bus times on my phone again, annoyed that one still hadn’t turned up. Did they realize people relied on them to get to work?
For fuck’s sake.
My boots rubbed my feet, irritating the blisters that seemed to have always been there. My shoulders ached. But at least I had tomorrow off.
Lila.
Every time I thought about something—anything—that wasn’t her, my mind dragged her back to the forefront. We had the scan on Tuesday, when she was twelve weeks along. I could hardly wait to see our baby—our baby, Jesus—on a screen.
The little heartbeat. The shape of it. My chest ached at the thought. I dragged up the pregnancy app I’d downloaded on my phone and searched for pregnancy symptoms for Lila’s stage.
Irritation. Huh, I thought that was just the effect I had on her. Apparently, it was to do with the surge in hormones, not her cheating husband.
I sighed.
Mood swings. Nausea. Sore breasts. Heartburn.
God, poor Lila.
I never wanted her to go through this without me, and I couldn't be further away if I tried. I wanted to give her massages and run her baths, make her chamomile tea and carry shit for her.
I didn’t want her to lift a finger.
The app told me our baby was the size of a plum and was fully formed.
My heart skipped a beat at the thought.
Our baby.
According to the app, Lila’s symptoms should start to ease soon. That was good.
A bus finally appeared in my line of vision, its headlights temporarily blinding me.
I boarded the bus and slumped into a seat, closing my eyes for a second. Teenagers screamed with laughter from the back of the bus—of course, it was Saturday night, they must be going somewhere.
I couldn't even remember what I did at that age.
The bus driver slammed on his brakes suddenly, and I was jolted forward, almost flying into the seat in front of me.
“Damn!” someone muttered from behind me, and we all glanced at each other like you do when you’re strangers thrust into a situation like this. My eyes met those of an old lady, and she gave me a sympathetic smile.
“We can’t catch a break, even on the bus.”
I nodded my agreement because boy did I agree. My whole world had gone to shit since I’d fucked around on Lila.
I wanted to text her and make sure she was okay, but she’d probably tell me to get fucked.
How was I going to get my wife back?
I rested my head against the glass window and sighed. I had to accept the chance that I might not get her back, and that scared me more than anything.
She’d bring our kid up on her own, and I’d help her every step of the way, but fuck… I wanted family Christmases and birthdays, grill outs in the summer…
You should've thought about that before you dipped your dick in dirty.
Lila would never believe me, but I felt like a completely different person to who I was then. I was so fucking stupid and naive, and I’d lost everything.
I’d take losing everything if I could just have her back, because she was everything. My air, my vision, my world. I couldn’t function properly without her. I could barely focus on basic shit.
I needed to talk to her, to try to explain that I couldn’t explain the Cami shit, but I could at least own my mistakes.
I needed to tell her I fucking missed her, so much.
Everything about her. The way she’d snort when she laughed too hard, or how she had to have strong coffee first thing in the morning or she’d be a grump all day.
What was worse was that I had done this to us. I didn’t have anyone else to blame, no one to punch or kill.
Just me.
As the bus neared the building site, my bones ached, already protesting against the cold.
But I had to keep going. For Lila and the baby.
My family, if I was ever lucky enough to call them that again.