Fire In His Eyes (Secrets & Seduction #1)(43)

I stumbled out of bed and ran to open the door before he woke up my neighbors. The old guy, Jesse, across the street, was really protective of me. Always reminding me to lock up and be sure to keep the garage door closed when I forgot to do so. He would be out here with a shotgun soon, if I didn’t make Victor stop.

I pulled open the door, and Victor with bloodshot eyes, pushed past me into the living room. ‘Take it back,” he said pacing back and forth, arms at his sides, fists clenched. “Take it back.” He was scaring me, so I backed up against the door.

“Take what back?” I was trembling, terrified, and sad.

“You have to let me explain, Monica. It’s not what you think. We’re separated, have been for eight months. She threw me out. She doesn’t want me,” he looked at me frantically, and then shook his head in despair. “But, I can’t divorce her, I can’t!”

Hope surged, and then crashed. “What? You can’t divorce her! Why?” I blurted out taking a step closer. He wouldn’t answer. “Never mind,” I suddenly added and turned my back to him. “Does it matter? You have been lying to me for months!” I screamed and cried at the same time, my shoulders shaking with my sobs.

He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. “My family, we don’t divorce. We are Catholic. Julianna . . . that’s her name, she wants the divorce,” he was begging me with his eyes to understand as his hands slid down my arms.

“Whoa, wait a minute your wife wants a divorce, and you don’t,” I was flabbergasted. I shrugged his hands off and began to back towards the kitchen. He followed me.

“It’s . . . she was my high school girlfriend,” he stammered trying to explain. “We got married right out of high school.”

I was confused, so confused. “I am playing second fiddle to your wife. Your wife, who you don’t want to divorce because you are Catholic or because you love her?” He didn’t answer. “But she wants a divorce?” He nodded. “I can’t be the other woman, Victor. I can’t be second best.” The tears streamed down my face. “I just don’t understand.” My words came out in a strange whisper.

“Please, let me explain. Please, sit, so I can think. Stop looking at me like I am some kind of monster, please,” he begged.

I had backed up into the kitchen and I sat, more so because my legs were about to give out from under me than because he asked. He must have taken that as a good sign because he sat next to me and reached for my hand.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me!” I yanked my hand back away from his reaching ones, and crossed my hands over my chest.

“But, you’ll listen, Monica. Please, say you’ll listen.” This man had hurt me, had betrayed me in the deepest way possible, but yet even knowing what he had done, I kept hearing Kat’s words whispering in my ear. When he is ready, listen to him. Give him a chance. I didn’t know if I wanted to listen, but I did want to understand.

I nodded wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. He put his hands in his lap, but then got up and began to pace. After a few moments he began to speak still pacing and occasionally looking up at me to see how I was taking his words.

“I went to college, and it didn’t work out for me. My parents were disappointed. My dad wanted me to be an accountant like him, but numbers were not me. I loved sports, the outdoors, and physical activity. Julianna, sh-she got a job working for her dad in his construction company right away. But, I was the man, you know. I had to support her, so I joined the military. My parents didn’t like it. They didn’t like it all.” He looked at me to see if I was still listening. “I did basic training, and Julianna, she . . . waited for me. I got home and two weeks later, I was sent to Iraq. I was there eight months. I came home, and she got pregnant.”

“Pregnant!” I leaped out of my chair nearly toppling it over.

“Please, please, sit back down.” He looked frantic and his hands reached in front of him, and he began to approach me. I slowly slid back into my chair, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Pregnant?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he smiled despite my sharp intake of breath. “I have a daughter. My one true love. Her name is Stacey. When I say I am with family, Monica, I am talking about her. She is who I spend every other weekend with and Tuesdays, not Julianna. Sometimes we go to my mom’s on Sundays.” His eyes begged me to understand. He had a daughter he had never told me about. Why? The rock in my stomach got tighter. I felt bile creep up my throat, but pushed it down when I swallowed.

“You have a daughter. A daughter you didn’t tell me about?” I was numb. These lies, lies by omission were big lies.

“Yeah, and I am sorry. But when we first got together, I didn’t know where this was going. Was it going to be a one night stand, a fling, I don’t expose my daughter to that kind of stuff. Plus, she still thinks I am getting back together with her mother. I couldn’t tell her about you, and so I couldn’t tell you about her.”

My head was swimming. It made no sense to me. I shook my head in amazement trying to wrap my mind around it.

Because I was silent so long he continued. “Anyway, the sex stuff. I love sex, and Julianna, well she didn’t. She tried stuff, we tried stuff, and she eventually just came to the conclusion that I was some kind of freak, pervert. She started to push me away, wouldn’t do anything but normal stuff and even then, not often. She’s not like you, you enjoy it, and you . . .” he let that sentence trail off. “Julianna, she also grew up with a lot of money. She kept pressuring me to get out the military, I had a child, she would say, what if I was sent overseas and got killed, her dad could get me a job in construction she would tell me.”