Fire In His Eyes (Secrets & Seduction #1)(42)

She reached out to soothe me. “Listen to me, Monica. If it is reason number one, his mom might be old-fashioned and want him to marry some little Italian girl and give her some bambinos. If it is reason number two, he has been dating someone his family loves and approves of, but he is just not that into her, and doesn’t want to disappoint them, or three,” she sighed, “he’s married, maybe separated, I think, but hasn’t told his family because he doesn’t want to disappoint them.”

I wanted to cry. Because all of these explanations sounded plausible! Crap, crap, and double crap! None of those situations sounded good, or easy to overcome.

“What should I do?” I asked, overwhelmed by all the possibilities.

“Honey, you’ve got to ask him and demand the truth. You’re already head over heels in love with him.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “It will hurt more if you wait. Trust me, the longer you are with someone, the more it is going to hurt. So, yank that f*cking Band-Aid off?”

I didn’t know if I could do it. Could I face even one of these truths? His mom would never like me, he was cheating on me with someone else, or worse, vice versa, he was cheating on someone else with me! My stomach rolled, I felt like I was going to be sick, and rushed to the bathroom to do exactly that.



When he didn’t call me at ten o’clock, I called him at eleven on Sunday night. He picked up on the first ring. “Hi Monica,” he said.

“Hi Victor,” I paused. I had thought about what I was going to say earlier, but all of my thoughts fled the moment I heard his voice. “I miss you,” I said lamely. I heard his sigh on the other end of the phone. There was an awkward silence.

“I miss you, too,” he said simply.

“What are you doing?” I asked pretending he hadn’t called me in two days, pretended like Saturday had never happened. It was a stupid thing to ask, but it was the first thing to come to my mind.

“Just watching television,” he muttered.

“Kat there?” I asked, trying to pretend this was a normal conversation when it was anything but that. What I really wanted to ask was why he hadn’t called when he said he would. Why? He probably wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened either, I hoped.

“She went to bed already,” he said, answering my questions, but not helping to end the awkwardness.

“Oh,” I said lamely. “Yes, I just wanted to hear your voice. I’ll let you go if I am bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I was actually thinking about calling you.” I heard him sigh for the first time.

“Oh, that’s nice,” I offered.

“Yes, I umm, wanted to explain why I didn’t call yesterday,” he stammered. “I got home real late and didn’t want to wake you.”

“You did?” I mumbled. Fool, I called myself because I was going to accept it. I wanted to believe it.

“Yeah, after I did what I needed to do, Kat watched, umm, I mean I went out and had a drink with the guys, and I am afraid I got a little drunk. They guys had to carry me upstairs,” he laughed. “I was going to call you then, but the guys said not to, it was too late, and I was pretty messed up.”

He had gone out with his friends last night. I was hurt. It hurt to hear that when we hadn’t gotten to spend just an hour or so together. “That doesn’t sound like you.” I was referring to the drinking to excess. He wasn’t a heavy drinker. “I still would have liked to have heard from you, though,” I sniffled. “I miss you.”

“Are you crying?” he asked. It was the first time his voice wasn’t in a monotone since the call had started.

“No, I am not crying,” I lied. Pull the Band-Aid. Just do it, I thought. I cleared my throat. My voice once again matching his, trying to keep it devoid of emotion, I asked, “Victor, are you married?”

His end of the phone was dead silent, for far too long, nothing for at least ten seconds. I heard him cough then say, “Fuck.” The word was muffled. He must have put the phone to his chest. He pulled the phone away from himself then because I had heard his next words much, much louder. “Fuck, f*ck, f*ck!”

I remained silent. It was a good thirty seconds before he spoke again. I gripped the receiver like it was a life line. “Monica, are you still there?” he asked with worry in his voice at the utter silence coming from my end of the line.

“Are you?” My tone was cold. I was ice. I felt like my spirit had been completely sapped. This instant was forever going to be frozen in my mind. It was the worst moment of my life.

He breathed deeply. “Yes, but . . .” he began. My world shattered.

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” I cried. The pain, oh my God, it hurt so much.

“Monica, wait . . .” I heard him faintly say as I disconnected the phone.

I ran to my room, threw myself onto the bed, and I cried my heart out. It felt like my soul was being ripped right of my body and my heart was being shredded into little pieces. I cried as if I had just found out someone had died, cried until I couldn’t even catch my breath. I passed out cold.



I woke because I heard banging at my front door. I looked at the clock. It wasn’t even midnight. “Monica, let me in damn it! Monica.” It was Victor. How did he get here so soon, it was an hour’s drive? We just hung up not forty minutes ago. Better yet, why was he here at all?