“I am,” Victor said with a sigh. “But you came to make me feel worse, so congratulations, you succeeded. You can go.”
He shoved the chair back and grabbed his plate, disappearing into the kitchen.
I stared after him, wondering where my pettiness had gone. It had left me suddenly, and I felt strange.
He deserved to feel like this, didn’t he? Even Enzo thought so.
My heart skipped a beat at the thought of my brother’s best friend, but I shoved that thought away. I didn’t have time for that. Not now.
When I’d spoken to Lila yesterday, she’d sounded perfectly fine. At least she had some rich British man whisking her around a Greek island—she deserved that.
But my brother…
I stared at him as he washed his dishes, his shoulders slumped.
Thoughts ricocheted around my mind, and I had to hold the back of the chair to steady myself.
He fucking cheated! He ruined her life!
He loved her so fucking much.
Could it have been down to miscommunication? I could kill them both.
They were getting a divorce and selling their house.
This was done, it was over, and rightly so.
So why did it feel wrong?
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I needed to leave before I tried to make him feel better or something?—
“Are you leaving?” Victor rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I’m going to bed.”
“It’s barely evening,” I pointed out as he shrugged.
“I’m tired.”
He looked exhausted. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet, so I made some excuse about waiting for Mom.
Victor said nothing, and I watched him climb the stairs like a broken man.
Which felt kind of sad, really.
24
VICTOR
Istared around the shitty studio I was viewing, noting the camp bed set up in the corner and the dirty window that overlooked the street. It was above a wine store too, and the door wasn’t that great—it didn’t even lock properly—but honestly, I had to get out of my mother’s hair before one of us killed the other.
Plus, Vanessa couldn’t just show up. Her visit last week had almost sent me off the edge.
The studio was only a few miles walking distance from the building site I was contracted to, so that helped, seeing as I was banned from driving for a whole fucking year. The lawyer had done well getting me off with a ban and a fine, I knew that, but when you drive everywhere for work, collecting tools and materials, shifting rubble and all sorts of shit, it meant you were pretty much useless in the trade.
A whole year of not driving. Another massive fuck up.
Thoughts of Lila being wined and dined—and fuck knows what else—by some British prick who spoke Greek made my blood boil.
A fly zipped past me, and I swatted it away.
