Chapter 50
LILA
Isat across from Vanessa a week later, as she stared at me, her chin on her hand.
“You actually did it.”
I nodded. “I actually did.”
The coffee shop noises clattered around us as I met her eyes. I couldn’t help but feel guilty—I had been with her brother for so long. But Vanessa didn’t give a shit—at all.
“Was it good?”
I felt my cheeks warm remembering Graham's touch. “Yes.”
“You’re not going to give me any details?!”
“Nope.”
“Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
I scrutinized her, and she nodded. “I mean it.”
“I’m pregnant with your niece or nephew.
” I winced, still not sure how I felt about that.
The truth was, I’d felt like shit ever since that night with Graham.
Victor made me dinner every night and never said a thing about it, but I missed him.
I hated how much I wanted to lay my head on his chest and sleep beside him. I needed him, and I hated it.
But I also didn’t.
Victor and I had had communication problems, that much was clear—in hindsight of course. But instead of doing something about it, he’d gone and fucked it up.
Fucked someone else.
“He could’ve gotten that skank pregnant. At least you used protection.” Vanessa sipped her matcha latte. “I’ve got to say, I’m fucking proud of you.”
“I think he used protection. I didn’t catch anything, and she’s not pregnant so…” Then I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you are?”
“Girl. You burned down his truck. You kicked him out, changed the locks, got a divorce—”
“Then I brought him back home because I couldn't sell the house.”
“—then you spent the night with a hot fucking CEO, then came home and told him about it,” Vanessa finished with a wicked grin. “Did his British accent turn you on in bed?”
She took one look at me and laughed. “Same, girl. Same. But you won’t see him again?”
I shook my head, stirring another sugar into my drink. “Nope. He’s not a relationship kinda guy, and I’m…”
Still in love with my cheating husband but refuse to tell anyone.
“You’re what?” Vanessa pressed, her eyes searching mine. “You aren’t broken, Lila. You’re pregnant and now divorced.”
I stared at the spot on my hand where my wedding band usually sat and tried to ignore the pang in my chest.
“I, uh, did something else,” I confessed, leaning in so only she could hear me.
Vanessa watched me with bright eyes. “Oh?”
“It’s bad.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I recorded it.”
Vanessa slammed her cup down, making the other patrons look our way. “Fuck off!”
“Shh!” I waved a hand at her, forcing a polite smile to everyone staring at us.
“Can I watch it?” Vanessa grinned, and I shook my head.
“Absolutely not.”
“Let me guess. You did that for your lonely nights at home?” Vanessa teased, still shaking her head in disbelief at my antics.
“No, actually.” I took a sip of my decaf coffee and groaned. I missed proper coffee. “I did it to show Victor.”
Vanessa’s mouth fell open.
I waited for her to say something, but she shook her head again, unable to find words this time.
“I haven’t shown him; I think he’s been through enough…” I panicked that Vanessa was going to slap me for trying to kill her brother. “But he keeps saying he’s sorry, and if he is, well, he can start by proving it.”
Vanessa blinked.
“Please say something,” I pleaded with her.
“What did you just say?” Vanessa croaked, slumping into her chair. “Oh, my fucking god, Lila, you still love him, don’t you?”
I blinked rapidly. Did I say that? Why is she talking about that?
“Of course, I still love him, he’s my…”
Oh.
I dipped my head so she wouldn’t see the tears forming. He wasn’t my husband anymore. He was just Victor. The father of my baby.
“Oh, babe.” Vanessa slid her hands into mine and squeezed tight, leaning in to whisper to me. “Tell me what’s going on.”
But I didn't know what to say. Everything was so fucked up.
“No one makes me feel like he does,” I said, keeping my head low. “I hate him so much it hurts, but I also just…love him so much. I can’t seem to make it go away, no matter what I do.”
“Sweetie…”
“How does he not hate me? Look what I’ve done to him.” I swiped at the tears, shaking my head. “I know he cheated on me, but fuck…”
“I understand.”
“And when the divorce papers arrived, I went into shock. I could barely move or breathe. I’ve always loved being his wife.”
“Lila, I get it.” Vanessa peered down at me, her eyes wide. “You still love him.”
I closed my eyes and nodded. “A tiny bit.”
“You’re allowed to feel like this. You’ve been through a lot.”
I nodded again, unable to trust myself to do anything else. Admitting it out loud made me feel like I was going backward, and I never wanted to go back there. Never.
“Take a breath.” Vanessa held my hands as I did. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”
“Is it? I miss him in bed with me. I want to share this pregnancy with him, but instead I’ve fucked someone else.” I threw my hands in the air. “I hate him for what he did, but…”
Vanessa watched me, her eyes searching mine.
“I should have communicated too.” My shoulders slumped, relief coursing through my body once I’d admitted it.
“Hey, look at me.” Vanessa waited until I looked up at her. “This is a good thing, Lila.”
“It is?” I wrinkled my nose. “It doesn’t feel like a good thing.”
“I know,” she said on an exhale. “But it is. I’m going to ask you something, and you just need to answer yes or no, whichever feels truest to you.”
I nodded again, useless.
“Do you still love him?”
“Yes.”
Pathetic. I’m just pathetic.
“Do you want to be with him?”
I dropped my head and gave the slightest nod. “Yes, but not yet.”
“Okay, so you make a plan.” Vanessa sat back, fanning herself. “I need a fucking cigarette.”
I frowned. “You don’t smoke.”
“No, but you drive me to it. You and my asswipe brother.”
“I’m weak, aren’t I?” I whispered, hating myself. “I shouldn’t be thinking like this.”
“You love your man, you always have. He fucked up badly—you’ve made him pay heavily, kinda, and now you get to decide what happens next. This is your story, Lila, no one else's. You’re in control here.”
I stared at her, letting her words sink into me slowly.
“Kinda?” I frowned.
Vanessa burst out laughing. “I knew you’d pick up on that.”
“What else could I do? Other than make him wait a long time until I tell him, because fuck him.” I scowled, my heart racing at the very thought of taking him back. I couldn’t take him back, no fucking way. I just…
God, this was hard.
“For starters, you could send him that video.” Vanessa shrugged. “Make him feel what you felt.”
The thought of Victor seeing that video made my skin crawl. But I had to admit, that was the reason I’d recorded it. But I couldn't do that. Not yet.
“I don’t want him to see it yet,” I replied with a shrug. “I just feel better for admitting how I feel.”
“To me.” Vanessa smiled. “He doesn’t need to know yet.”
When I arrived home, the smell of Italian food made my mouth water instantly.
Bianci must have dropped off some food—and thank god; I was ravenous.
I dropped my keys onto the side table and froze when I saw Victor wearing an apron I’d bought him last Christmas of a naked torso, studying a cookbook.
He stirred a pot while concentrating, his lips moving as he read from the book.
I stared at him, taking in the firm line of his jaw, the colour now back in his cheeks, and the way he’d filled out a little. Then he looked at me.
“Lila!”
“Hi,” I said awkwardly, slipping my sneakers off with a sigh of relief. “You’re cooking.”
“I am. For us, if that’s okay?” He glanced at me before reaching into the oven and pulling out a bubbling lasagne with lots of cheese.
I’d agree to anything to eat that.
“It’s fine, thank you.” I watched as he nodded at the table, which was already set. I made my way over stiffly and groaned as I sat down.
“Are you okay?” Victor checked, carrying the piping hot lasagne to the table. His brown gaze flickered over me as I nodded, stifling a yawn.
“I’m just tired.”
“After you’ve eaten, you can go lie down.” Victor glanced at me and my stomach flipped.
Goddamn him for being so handsome.
Victor carried a bowl of salad and a plate of garlic bread to the table, pausing as he surveyed the table like it was a crime scene.
“It’s missing something,” he muttered.
“Cutlery?” I suggested, still amused by him in that apron. He’d never worn it before.
“Yeah.” He jogged back to the cutlery drawer, and I helped myself to the lasagna, groaning with delight when the cheese clung to the spoon.
“Okay, this looks really good.”
“Mom has been sharing her cooking recipes with me,” he admitted, scratching his head with embarrassment.
I paused, my fork in mid-air. “She has?”
He nodded. “I wanted to know how to cook decent dinners for the you and baby. She said she’d share them with me as long as I made sure I passed them down to the baby.”
My heart thawed a tiny bit more every time he mentioned our child.
“And I’m your test subject?” I teased, blowing on the food before taking a cautious bite.
“As if I’d endanger you or the baby,” he said, shaking his head. “I hope it’s good; I followed Mom’s instructions to the tee.”
I glanced at the kitchen counter. “I thought you were reading from a cookbook.”
He scoffed. “Mom would never speak to me again. I have to learn the family recipe, apparently. Then teach our kid.”
The lasagne was beyond good—I barely spoke until my fork scraped against my empty plate.
“Victor, that was so delicious.” I leaned back in my chair and stretched my pregnancy bottoms over my ever-expanding bump. I yawned again.
“You go and lie down. Get some rest.” Victor waved me away before returning to his food, digging in with gusto. I rose to my feet, then hesitated…long enough that he noticed.
“What? Are you okay?” He looked concerned, his eyes scanning me head to toe.
“Just tired, thanks again for dinner.” I still spoke stiffly to him sometimes; I couldn’t help it.
I was doing my best.