5. Tori
TORI
Sipping my coffee at the kitchen table, I looked out at the gorgeous view of Chicago’s iconic skyline, the icy blue waters of Lake Michigan lapping at the shore, the expanse of trees and green space along Lake Shore Drive.
It was the kind of cold, clear day that reminded you that winter could be beautiful too.
If it wasn’t a Monday, I would have just burrowed under the covers and tried to read in bed all day, but I had classes to attend.
On top of that, Stefan was still asleep in the guest room, and I planned to avoid talking to him until he was ready to tell me what he’d decided to do about Anja and the boy.
So here I was, drinking coffee by myself, feeling completely at a loss.
Waking up in my husband’s arms that morning had almost killed me.
I’d told myself that the sex last night could be a goodbye, but in the light of day I realized I wasn’t ready for goodbye.
Not at all. I didn’t want to be apart from him, either.
But I forced myself up and out of bed, leaving him to his probable hangover, knowing that once I left him, I’d have to give him—and myself—some breathing room.
At least I was the one controlling my distance from Stefan. As much as I knew he’d need his space, I didn’t think I’d be able to handle hearing the words come out of his mouth—I figured it was better to just keep myself away, let him take some time to process all the things he was dealing with.
If I was honest, though, I had to admit that part of me was avoiding him on purpose.
I was hiding. I was afraid of what he’d say about Anja and his son if I confronted him right now.
Maybe if he took a few days or even weeks to think it all over, he’d realize there were plenty of ways to work out the logistics of his new family life without ending our marriage.
The last thing I wanted was for him to feel pressured, like he had to rush to make any big decisions.
I set my empty cup in the sink and padded down the hall to the master bedroom to get ready for school. It would be best to let him sleep. Get out of the condo before he woke up.
School wouldn’t be much of an escape, though. I’d have to put on a happy face for my friends and teachers, focus all my energy on paying attention in class instead of wallowing over Stefan, and hope that my inner turmoil wouldn’t affect any of my lessons.
My shower was quick, but it was impossible to ignore the bruises on my ass, and how sore I still was from the hard, intense sex we’d had. It made me ache for Stefan all over again.
Last night had been amazing, and I regretted nothing…
but he’d obviously been at least somewhat drunk and likely not thinking straight, given the shock and the alcohol combined.
I was sure he’d wake up today with his priorities sorted out, and I knew I might not be at the top of that list anymore—or even on that list at all.
He’d been searching for Anja for years, after all.
And that didn’t even account for the reality of their son.
Remembering the adorable, dark-haired boy with my husband’s eyes, my stomach twisted. Stefan had a son now. Things were going to be completely different, and it would be stupid to pretend otherwise.
As I put on my makeup, I couldn’t help obsessing over every little thing Stefan had said to me the night before.
He’d said that he loved me, only me, and that he always would.
He’d promised. He’d said I was his and that I was perfect for him.
But he’d been drunk, too, and under an incredible amount of stress.
Maybe the heat of the moment had pulled those words from his lips.
It would be foolish to hold on to them, to hope that they were true.
Even though he was sleeping in the next room, he already felt miles away. It was torture.
I blinked back tears, dabbing at my now-wet mascara with a tissue, knowing I had to get my mind off the situation before I completely fell apart and couldn’t make it to class.
That wasn’t an option. I had a test in Latin today, and finals were rapidly approaching so every point counted.
Even one missed class could compromise my grades, and as pathetic as it sounded, my linguistics program was all I had to keep me going right now.
Latin vocabulary usually always put me in a good mood—how the words came out of your mouth reminiscent of the magic spells from Harry Potter, the way they so often sounded familiar since Latin formed the roots of many modern languages.
But I struggled to find that joy today as I pulled out my school binder and ran down the vocab list in my notes.
Abduco, the root of abduct, meaning to detach or withdraw, to lead or take away.
Blanditia, the root of blandishments, meaning attractions, charm, allurement.
Contamino, the root of contaminate, meaning to pollute or infect.
It wasn’t the distraction I’d hoped for. Everything reminded me of Stefan. The way he’d withdraw from me, leaving me bereft of his charm, our marriage contaminated by the truths Anja had hidden away for so long. I might lose everything.
Could I count on Stefan’s words from last night? Would he even remember what we’d shared? Or worse—would he remember, and regret it?
Turning the page, I saw Gavin’s square, blocky handwriting instead of my own neat cursive. These were the notes I’d borrowed from him when I had been either too lost in heartbreak over Stefan or too head over heels for him to focus in class.
Gavin Chase, younger brother of Frank Chase, agent with the Department of Defense.
Looking at Gavin’s pages reminded me that he was now a part of this whole mess as well.
That what was happening right now with the Zoric family was bigger than my marriage, bigger than just Stefan and I—and always had been, even before we knew about Anja and her son.
Regardless of our personal issues, I was still committed to helping my husband take down KZ Modeling and its sex trafficking ring from the inside. With Gavin and Frank’s help.
As I slid into a pair of jeans and a thick-knit cashmere sweater, I marveled at how worried I’d been about meeting Konstantin for dinner last night.
How Stefan and I had spent hours going over what I should say to his father in order to convince him that I would be loyal to the Zoric family.
All that practicing, all those words. For nothing.
Konstantin had barely looked at me last night, let alone asked me to make some declaration of allegiance to him.
Did my loyalty even matter now? Had my father-in-law completely dismissed me the moment Anja came back into the picture? Did he see her as my neat and easy replacement?
I couldn’t think about it. I’d just have to focus on getting through this one day at a time.
Heading into the closet I shared with Stefan, I pulled out my favorite brown boots and tugged them on. Then I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder and walked into the hall.
Just in time to catch Stefan coming out of the guest room.
So much for slipping off to school before he woke up.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked, his voice sounding a little hoarse, whether from the lingering effects of sleep or from the alcohol he’d drowned himself in last night, I wasn’t sure.
“It’s Monday,” I reminded him. “I have class all day. Remember?”
Looking at him was difficult. He was in last night’s wrinkled clothes, his shirt not even tucked in. His feet were bare and his hair was a mess. And yet, to me, he looked perfect.
I wanted to drop my bag at my feet and run into his arms. I wanted him to take me to bed. To hold me. To tell me again that he loved me. But I couldn’t. I had to get out of here.
Before I could turn away, Stefan reached for my arm. “Don’t you think we should talk first?” he asked. “Why were you sleeping in the spare room last night?”
My throat felt tight, but I refused to cry in front of him.
“Can we talk about this later?” I said, pulling away. “I’m going to be late.”
A look of confusion crossed his face, or maybe it was just his hangover. “Are you mad at me?” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Of course not,” I said, flashing a fake smile.
And it was true. I wasn’t mad at all. I was just trying to keep myself together so I wouldn’t be destroyed when he told me he was leaving me. Which was something I absolutely couldn’t deal with at the moment.
I looked at my phone, pretending I had a notification. “My Uber’s downstairs,” I lied. “I’m not mad, really. See you tonight. I’ll probably be home late.”
With that, I kissed him on the cheek, spun on my heel, and practically bolted out of the condo.