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“Seriously?” His sister appeared shell-shocked. “I always assumed he had an apartment in town, but he’s been staying in a house?”
“No. It’s empty.” Aubrey’s voice cracked. Telling Chelsea about the house was supposed to serve as proof of the ultimate betrayal: Vic attempting to gift her a house to cover for his lies. But as she described him bringing her there, and how he’d shared that he’d let it sit unoccupied for a decade, it didn’t sound like a betrayal. It sounded almost...romantic.
“I can only imagine what you must be thinking right now,” Chelsea said, “but that is Vic saying I love you in big bold letters. Ten years he’s been hiding this? I have given him so much hell about moving out and being the man of his own house. How did he keep this from everyone for so long?”
“He brought me there to break the worst news of my life to me,” Aubrey continued, stubbornly not wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. Her heart was raw, and her recently returned memory was smarting like a fresh cut. “Who knows how many other women he’s brought there?”
But she knew. None. It wasn’t his style. Vic had been heartbroken when he’d shown Aubrey the house—more so by the time she’d walked out of it.
“He brought you there, to the home you’d always wanted, to break your fall, sweetheart. You might not want to see it that way, but I know my brother. I know he loved you more than anything in the world when we were kids, and I know he’s lost without you now. I don’t want you to feel sorry for him, or make a rash decision because I’m taking his side. I want you to evaluate your own feelings and trust them.”
“How can I trust them when I couldn’t trust myself for the last six weeks?” And that was the real issue, wasn’t it? Aubrey had been her own guiding light for a good ten years, and then suddenly she hadn’t been able to count on herself for anything. What she’d felt while with Vic had seemed real. But was it? Should she trust the way she’d felt then or the way she was feeling now?
“You’re going to have to learn.” Chelsea put her hand over Aubrey’s and in a stern, oldest-sister-knows-best tone added, “You are strong. You always have been. You know what you want out of life, and you aren’t afraid to say what it is. I’m asking you to entertain the idea that Vic could be part of your future. What if you miss the opportunity for a second chance?”
“You sound like him. I was injured, and he took advantage of my weakness.” How come no one understood that?
“Then why did you wake up after your accident asking for my brother? Why did him showing up to your hospital room change everything for you? What was the last memory you had of him? The Vic who you fought with and left years ago, or the Vic who went out of his way to show you how much he cares about you?”
Chelsea let the question hang. Their sandwiches were delivered. Aubrey didn’t answer as she picked at her food. She didn’t want to admit that the last memory she’d had of Vic when she woke up after her accident was the incredible night she’d spent with him.
“Why don’t you let me buy you a drink? You can eat your cannoli here. I promise I’ll be nice.”
“Nice is not a description of Vic Grandin one hears very often.”
He’d persisted that night and had talked her into sleeping with him. It should have been a ludicrous idea—one she never should have considered.
Why did you consider it?
An excellent question.
The answer was as complicated and as simple as the fact that she’d simply wanted to experience him again. Experience his smile, his dark eyes on hers. Taste his mouth and feel safe and protected by his strength. Relax knowing the man in her bed would deliver a beautiful night to remember.
Only she’d forgotten the most important part. She’d forgotten his promise to go away after the sex. A promise he’d broken...
But you broke it first.
She stared at her plate, her thoughts dipping and swirling. Not because she’d forgotten why she’d said yes, but because she remembered. She remembered the intensity of being in bed with Vic. He’d consumed her that night. He’d been so present and real and perfect. She’d done her level best to keep her walls up, but if she were being honest, she’d been sad when he’d left the following morning. Sad about them not having another night in their future. When she’d seen him at the TCC pool party that afternoon, it’d been Vic who’d offered a smile and a polite nod hello. He hadn’t approached her, instead giving her ample room to kick the crack in the door wider. In spite of wanting him again—very badly—she’d reached for the handle and pulled it closed instead.
She’d been protecting herself. Then, and now.
When she’d woken up in the hospital asking for Vic, part of her must have wanted the strength and security he offered. So much so that she’d pushed away any memories that hadn’t fed that narrative. Her subconscious had lied to her. A coconspirator to Vic, unbeknownst to her.
“Aubrey? Are you okay?” Chelsea asked.
“So much has happened since the day Vic and I broke up. I moved on. I dated other people. He dated other people.”
Chelsea’s lips flattened before she said, “I don’t see either of you with other people now.”
“A lot has happened since I was twenty,” Aubrey whispered, hanging on to her weak argument with both hands.
“Even more has happened since Vic showed up. As you requested.” Rather than try and convince Aubrey of her part in this drama, Chelsea raised her hand to signal the waiter. “How about dessert? I want dessert.”
Aubrey nodded automatically, but she didn’t care if she ate dessert or not. What she cared about was her heart, her future. Her life.
She’d decided when she’d been in college to honor her dreams and build a life she deserved, no matter what.
Which left one nagging question: What kind of life did she want now?
