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She kissed him on the side of his neck, sucking gently at the bare skin above the line of his shirt. It wasn’t the same. The warmth was missing, and she felt cool and rigid.
I’ll get a drink. That will help.
Vickie hated thinking that she needed alcohol to take the edge off her thoughts, but she didn’t want to be like this with George. She didn’t want to push him away, yet that was exactly what she was doing.
She moved away and went to the side table where a flask of whisky was kept for when George was entertaining his doctor friends. She took off the stopper of the fine crystal.
“Vickie, what’s wrong?” asked George from behind her.
“Nothing.” She poured herself a large shot of dark liquid and was about to drink it in one gulp when George put his hand on hers and stopped her.
“Don’t lie to me.”
She hated the sternness in his voice. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake away the questions she had about Miguel. It was as if the invitation she had received at the art class had caused them to resurface, and she could no longer ignore them. Besides, there was the big question of how did they know she was going to be there and was she being followed. She also knew that she needed to confess what was really going on to George, but she wanted to find out herself. This was her little mystery to solve.
“Vickie, we’ve been through too much.” He raised his voice.
She turned to face him, setting her jaw. Now wasn’t the time to ask him, he was getting emotional, and she could feel her own emotions bubbling up to the surface, ready to explode between them. This wasn’t at all what she wanted to happen. She desperately tried to push the questions away. She needed to go to the Black Heart Club tonight with Ruby, not George. She had to find out what they were really about. It was her public duty to do so. There was no way Violet could communicate with the dead.
“Nothing, George, really, I’m just a bit tired.” She rubbed her temples as if to prove a point. She could feel a headache coming on with all this thinking.
“Poppycock.”
Now she knew he was really angry, and he never used such language in front of her. Ever. She took her hand away from the glass, leaving the liquid untouched.
“I’ll leave.”
Vickie’s eyes widened as she stared at him, unblinking, unsure whether to believe him.
He pointed at her. “We’ve been throughtoo much. Too much, Vickie, for you to keep secrets from me now.”
What he was saying was true. He’d done it the other week when things got tense between them, but her words wouldn’t form. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“I will leave. I’ll go up to the Queen now and go off, and you’ll never see me again.”
Her mouth dried.
“Your choice,” he huffed as he stormed away.
“No,” she yelled, finally finding her voice.
He turned and paused, his expression dark and angry. She loved it. She didn’t want him to leave. She also loved the gentler side he was showing her and desperately wanted that back.
When she didn’t speak, he put his hand on the door handle. The sharp sound of the lock clicked, and something inside of Vickie caused her to connect with her resolve. She couldn’t let him walk away from her. She didn’t want to never see him again, not over something she didn’t believe in. If the Black Hearts Club was the fraud that she thought it was, then she had no fear in asking him. Yet, the fear was real inside of her, and it weakened her knees.
“Who’s Miguel?” It wasn’t how she wanted to ask him. It wasn’t a cleverly crafted question to subtly get answers. But she had finally let the question out. Immediately, she felt relief ease through her.
“What?” George let his hand drop from the handle.
“Miguel. Who is he?”
George ran his hand through his hair in desperation. “Vickie, I don’t know what you’re really asking here?”
“Did you ever have a lover called Miguel?”
George’s eyes widened.
Vickie’s heart sank. So, it was true.
