We’d seen our baby today. I dug out the scan image from my wallet and stared at it for a long time, imagining what it would feel like to hold them, to smell their skin and kiss their little face. God, I couldn’t wait, but fuck me, did I want to do it as a family.
I knew I was selfish, that I should let her go, let her move on to someone better than me, but honestly? I loved her too much. No one would ever love her like I did. Even though I was a stupid bastard, I would die for her if she asked me to.
I sighed when my phone alarm buzzed, reminding me it was time to go to work. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up, contemplating whether to call out and tell her I was leaving.
But something had changed tonight. She’d actually spoken to me about it—our marriage. I saw her anger, her disgust, but mostly?
I saw her love. I saw it in the way she looked at me, how she stared at me a touch too long, how her cheeks flushed when I caught her looking at me. Honestly, it gave me hope, and that was all I wanted. I had time—too much time, and all I could do was try to win her back.
Knowing my luck, the divorce papers would arrive soon, finalising that she no longer wore my surname. That she was a Morrison again, single and without any ties to me.
The thought of her not having my name made me feel physically sick. But I had to remember I’d fucked up, not her. She had issues, but we should have addressed them. I shouldn’t have ran off to another woman, that was for damn sure, especially not a woman I didn’t love.
But I’d beaten myself up enough. Now was time to focus on getting her back, one tiny step at a time. Even if she wasn’t my wife, we could be something. I’d take even being her friend at this point, but even that was a stretch.
Baby steps.
My phone buzzed again.
Enzo: Hey, how are you doing? I wondered if you wanted to catch up this week?
I sighed, tugging on my security jacket and zipping it up while I contemplated my life. I wanted to see Enzo; I needed a fucking night or two off, and now I was living here, I didn’t exactlyneedtwo jobs. But there was the risk that Lila might need the money, and I had to be able to give her that. But Icouldtake some time off. God knew I needed it.
Victor: Tomorrow night? Sports bar?
Enzo: Sounds good. Say seven?
Victor: See you then.
If I wasn’t dead on my feet.
The sports bar was dead, being Wednesday night. It took ages to get there on the bus, but I was getting used to public transport disappointing me. Enzo waved from the booth across from the bar, lifting a beer in the air. The sound of soft rock music filled the air, and I trudged over to my oldest friend with what I hoped was a smile.
He pushed a cold beer bottle my way, and I took it, lifting it to my lips with a grateful nod.
“How’re things?
Question of the fucking century.I belched, slumping into the booth before him.
“Shit. Lila still hates me.”
“Dude, you can’t blame her. She watched you fucking Cami on video.” Enzo shook his head but sighed, giving me a semi-sympathetic look.
“I know,” I said, scrubbing my face. I needed to shave; I just couldn’t be bothered. “I don’t know what else I can do.”
Enzo sipped his beer before answering me. “Well, what have you done?”
I stared at him, my brows furrowing. “Done?”
“Yeah, like have you apologised on your knees and shit?”
I rolled my eyes. “If I ever get Lila back, it will probably involve setting myself on fire.”
“Your truck wasn’t enough?” Enzo joked, and we laughed. The sound reminded me of old times, and a pang of nostalgia filled my stomach.
“I guess you just have to focus on the baby.”
My head snapped up. “You know about that? Shit, and I thought I was here delivering good news.”
