Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(13)

His gaze softened, but his words still slapped me. “I didn’t.”

Yeah. That stung.

Thankfully, Gabe chose that moment to open the door beside us and we both whipped our heads toward it.

“So this is your attorney?” Gabe asked, raising his eyebrows when neither one of us answered. “Okay, then, I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving, but the pool guy is coming today. He lost the key to the gate so he might ring. Thanks for helping me pick up.” He tucked his head in, but then brought it back out as if he’d forgotten to say something. “And thanks for last night. It was really, really good.”

What the f*ck? Had he forgotten how that went down? Or rather how it didn’t go down? Perhaps the woman had stayed after I’d left. Bastard. Nonetheless, there was no way to miss his innuendo, not with the way his voice dropped and he winked as he looked at my mouth. He shut the door and I watched as he walked off. Victor didn’t comment, instead he opened up his briefcase to hand me some papers. I practically hid my face behind the papers.

“I need you to sign these,” he said, going back to business mode. “There’s an X on each page I need you to look at. It indicates you’re moving forward with the motion and asking for alimony.”

“What happens if I just poison him?” I asked quietly, still hiding my face as my eyes scanned the words on the page.

“Then I’d have to hook you up with a criminal attorney because I could no longer represent you.”

I glanced up at him and found that his lips were curled into a smile, the sight of it doing things to me, and making me smile back. He had one leg folded on top of his knee at the ankle, athletic frame pressed back into the chair, sultry eyes on mine. Just . . . wow.

“Once this is over you can go on with your life . . . pretend this never happened,” he said, signaling toward the house with his chin.

I looked inside. It was so big and empty. It always had been, I realized, but what once felt cozy and warm, now felt cold, the spaces wider, room for more problems. I couldn’t afford to kick myself down over it anymore. Like my friends said, I’d kicked myself hard enough over things that weren’t solely my fault while he’d continued to thrive and make a name for himself.

“I just feel like I failed, you know? I’m sure you get that a lot, but I just don’t do well with failure.”

“You didn’t fail. Divorce doesn’t have to mean failure, and it’s certainly not one person’s failure.” He paused, scratching his chin as his eyes wandered over my shoulder, toward the pool. “How long ago did you decide it was over?”

“A year ago,” I said. I’d already told him that the other day. Victor shook his head.

“I mean, you personally. When did you know it was over for you?”

I scooted back in my chair and lifted my legs, hugging them toward my chest. “A long time ago.”

“Why did you wait so long?”

“Because I’m not a quitter,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes as I said the words.

“Is that why you’re still living here? With him?” There was bite to his words that matched the sudden anger in his eyes.

“I guess.”

I wiped my eyes and went back to the papers in front of me. He continued to stare at me. The words kept blurring, so I didn’t get very far into the document. I signed where it said I should and initialed the rest. I figured I couldn’t be giving up any more than I already had, and my dad was Victor’s boss, so he couldn’t be screwing me. I looked up at him again. He could totally be screwing me. I shook my head, looking down at the paper again, and tried to bite back a laugh. Something was terribly wrong with me if the thoughts screwing me over were being misconstrued in my own mind. Massively, irrevocably wrong with me. I’d said the been there, done that thing to him the other day as an out because the longer I looked at him the less I believed myself.

“What’s so funny?” he asked as I handed back the papers and pen he’d given me.

“Nothing. Thinking about a shirt I have.”

His brows crinkled in confusion for a second before he got it and smiled.

“You must really like that shirt.”

“You should see how it fits me,” I said with a wink.

The way his eyes flared, I could tell my words evoked some kind of image in his mind. He didn’t say anything like he would have in the past. That had been our thing all those years ago. I’d pull the string until he bit and caved to me. Not this Victor, though. He cleared his throat and stood up, offering me his hand to shake. I took it, and ignored the way my insides rocked when he touched me. We walked back through the house to the front door, and he commented on the electric fireplace and color of the dark wood floors. When I touched the door handle, he placed his hand over mine, covering it. My heart jumped at the sensation of his hand warming mine, his long fingers digging into my flesh just slightly, just enough. My eyes snapped to his.

“For the record, I would love to see how your shirt fits,” he said in a low voice, lowering his face to mine so we were almost nose to nose, eye to eye. “Maybe once this is over, if the offer still stands, I’ll take you up on it.”

My breath hitched a little. I licked my lips. “That’ll take months.”

“It can take a year,” he said. He was breathing a little louder now. I wondered what he would do if I leaned in and pressed my lips against his.