Fire In His Eyes (Secrets & Seduction #1)(34)

He whispered, “Thursday,” and let me go. He turned and walked to his apartment without ever looking back.





But, Thursday never happened. I got the call at four o’clock, something had come up with family. That’s all he could say. Would say? I didn’t ask. He might be able to come Sunday though, but that didn’t happen either.

The following Thursday, Victor did come see me. We watched the finale of Friends, me on one side of the sofa, him on the other. He was quiet and subdued. “I’m really going to miss that show,” he sighed. “Come on I need comfort food,” he gave me his hand and I took it. We went to Village Inn and had pie and talked about the episode. I could tell other things were on his mind bothering him. I asked about his work. He admitted to me again that he hated it. The people he hired didn’t show up when they were supposed to, didn’t follow directions, had no respect for other guys doing different jobs. It was not like the military where everything was orderly, and structured. He missed the rank and file. The respect. In the military if you did not do what you were supposed to there were consequences. If he fired someone, it delayed the whole job, and it was a nightmare rescheduling. I sympathized. I knew how behavior problems could screw up a whole lesson plan.

I asked him as I moved my chocolate silk pie around on the plate, “Why don’t you go back to the military? If it made you happy, you should see if you can back in.”

“I’d love to. I really would. The money wasn’t great, but at least I felt like I was doing something worthwhile, something that mattered. It’s not like building condos and townhouses for rich people that spend a week or two in them at most every year.” He rubbed his temples.

“Did you change jobs just for the money?” I asked not sure if I should probe deeper, but wanting to help him with this decision.

“Pretty much, yeah.” He replied. He pushed his apple pie away just as untouched as my own.

“Do you really need the money?” I asked. Again, I was trying to get him to way his pros and cons.

“Not really,” he replied. “I changed jobs because there were expectations that I earn more.” He left it at that and I didn’t ask for more information. I knew from experience that when people wanted your advice they would ask for it. But, I could have asked whose expectations. I didn’t want to press to hard. I wondered why he put so much pressure on himself. Many military families got by on their salaries. It wasn’t a great living, but it was enough to live comfortably, gave great insurance, and a decent pension.

Victor signaled for the check, and paid for the pie and coffee. He helped me out of the booth, held my hand on the way to the car, and got the door for me.

We pulled into my driveway and he shut off the car, but he made no move to get out. I waited for the words I somehow knew were coming the moment he had arrived tonight and I saw his somber mood. “I’m sorry, Monica. I just don’t feel like myself today, all week actually. Got a lot on my mind with work. I hate this shit. It’s not you, okay?” he tried to reassure me when he saw my head drop. “I promise next week will be better.”

“You don’t want to come in, at all? For a little while?” I asked looking up at him, but he would not meet my gaze.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea. I am just not feeling it tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Okay,” I said flatly. I got out of the car, he didn’t. He waited for me to unlock the front door, and before I could turn around to wave, he was backing out of my driveway.

I went to my room, and cried myself to sleep. It had been nearly two weeks since our trip, and this had been the first time I had seen him. It wasn’t just about the sex for me. I missed his companionship, too. It was a long night, long night.



He called me in the morning to apologize again. He laughed and said, “That episode of Friends got to me. I’ve been watching that show forever. It’s like the end of an era or something.” I thought his laugh sounded a little bit phony. When I didn’t respond right away, he added, “Okay, have a good day. I’ll call you tonight,” and hung up.

He called every night that weekend between ten and eleven as usual. He asked about my day, told me about his but that was it. There was no more sharing, laughing, teasing. After ten minutes or so, we would hang up. The calls weren’t the same. They didn’t satisfy me or comfort me between our weekly rendezvous.

By Wednesday, I was really getting worried. I felt like he was putting this distance between us on purpose. He was in a dark place with his job, and he was taking it out on me. When he called, I offered to come up the next day instead of him driving.

“No, I don’t think so,” he stammered.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Mmm,” he uttered. “I think Kat is having some friends over or something.”

“Okay, then. I’ll guess I will see you tomorrow. Bye, Victor.” I clicked off my cell and hoped I hadn’t sounded sarcastic.



On Thursday, he was an hour late. I had been crying, and although I had run to the bathroom and washed my face when I saw his car pull up, the tell-tale signs were there. I was no good at hiding my feelings. He looked in my eyes, and saw my pain. I saw it reflected back at me in his eyes when I looked at him. He reached out to hold my face, eyes intense he whispered, “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t think it would last.” He kissed me, each swollen eye first, and then on my lips. It was so tender, my heart broke. Not breaking the kiss, he steered me backwards and softly closed the door behind him. He picked me up, swinging me into his arms carrying me straight to my bedroom. There were no words that night. He made love to me slowly, straight sex, but it was beautiful. I fell asleep in his arms, and when I woke he was still there looking at me in the dawn’s early light.