Fire In His Eyes (Secrets & Seduction #1)(41)

“I missed you too, Victor,” I managed to get out.

“See you Thursday, Monica,” he whispered, let go of my chin, turned, and got in the truck. He waved goodbye as he backed out of my driveway and then I went inside. Alone.





“What the hell?” Ana yelled, slamming her coffee cup on my kitchen table after I finished telling her about the fiasco that happened at the airport and about the ride home. I also told her about the fact that Victor had not called last night either. “Well, call him now. You deserve some answers!” she exclaimed with some force.

“He was probably so upset about his car, that he just forgot,” I said lamely trying to defend him.

It was Sunday night, and Ana stopped here before going to her place. She just got back from Clearwater and spending the day with Teddy and his family.

I told her about the conversation I had with Kat. She sat ruminating for a bit, wiping at the coffee that had sloshed over the side of her cup. “Well, that puts a different spin on things,” she stated in a calmer tone.

“What do you mean?” I asked with confusion while wiping my running nose. Two days of crying did that to a girl.

“She is his friend, but girls don’t like to lie to other girls. For a while, I was beginning to think he was married,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Married!” I squeaked. “But, he lives with Kat! I’ve been there.” I shook my head. What a ludicrous conclusion to come to, I thought. She had only thought that because of her ex, and my dad, I told myself.

“Yeah, but you’ve only been there a few times. Have you seen anything personal in there? Pictures? Anything?” Her eyes widened at me.

“I saw a picture once, but he turned it down on to the dresser before I could get a look at it. Come to think of it, I didn’t see it all the other times I was there. He must have moved it,” I whispered, fear now beginning to clench at my heart. I felt all the color drain out of my face. I felt suddenly cold, too.

She must have seen my panic, because she then switched gears. “Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions, yet. He lives with Kat, no pictures. What about his clothes? His clothes are there hanging in the closet, too?”

“Yes, he has a lot of clothes there. There is his stuff all over the bathroom. There were some boxes in the corner in his room, too,” I said, giving her all the information I knew, pausing between each thought as they came to me.

“Well, those are good signs,” she nodded and reached for my hand to give it a pat. “He has been in the Army a lot, used to living out of duffle bag, and boxes and stuff. So, he may have not gotten around to unpacking,” she mused. “What about family? What do you know about them?” she asked.

“He has only ever mentioned family, no one specific, really. His mom, she lives in Palm Harbor. His dad passed away from cancer, he told me once. He hasn’t mentioned anyone else? Wow, that was all I knew! He did not mention them often, and when he did he would always steer the conversation in another direction. I talked about my family all the time. He listened when I talked about them, and laughed at my stories, but never shared any of his own. He talked about his military friends more than anyone else.

“No, sisters, brothers?” she asked, letting go of my hand and reaching for her cup of coffee.

“He hasn’t mentioned any, but the truck he drove me home in had toys in the back. Girl’s toys. I saw a doll, a jump rope, a Cinderella ball. No, he has never mentioned siblings or nieces or nephews or anything, but he did say the truck belonged to family. I remember that clearly,” I emphasized that point.

“Okay, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them then, so it must be.”

“Kat mentioned he is very loyal and feels responsible for his family,” I offered her another possible clue.

“Well, that could mean since his dad passed he feels responsible for his family and that he is the man of the family, so he has to do what his dad would have done if he were still alive. He probably spends those family weekends fixing up mom’s house, repairs and stuff, cutting the lawn, taking her shopping. If he has siblings, he’s Italian, and they probably do family dinners and stuff and he helps them, too,” she continued to hypothesize. Then she shook her head and added, “But, I don’t know why he wouldn’t have mentioned them. You have been seeing each other for nearly three months.”

Okay, these things all made sense to me. “He does not talk about them much.” And then, “What really bugs me though, is that I don’t understand why he doesn’t want to tell them about me?” I asked hoping she had an explanation for that as well.

“Now that is the sixty-four thousand dollar question. I’m stumped.” She took another sip of her coffee, set it down and fiddled with the handle for a bit, and then looked at me suspiciously.

“Yes, what is it?” I could tell she had thought of something.

“Well,” she started tentatively, “It has to be one of three things.” Again she paused. “It’s either that his family wouldn’t approve of you, or he’s got another girlfriend, or,” a longer pause, “he’s already married.” This last statement was said with compassion.

“But he lives with Kat!” I repeated exasperated crossing my hands in front of me. Then, “Plus, he wouldn’t see someone else, either. He told me he wouldn’t do that.” I was getting angry at her now.