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He could all but hear Emil’s frown. “Right about what?”
“That a woman like Alice would never actually want to be with someone like me,” Victor said, matter-of-fact and without emotion. “And before you launch into some pity-motivated tirade about how I’m a good guy, please know I’ve heard all the shit you’ve said about me behind my back.”
Emil was so silent Victor had to check to make sure the call hadn’t ended. “When did—”
“I didn’t keep a logbook,” Victor said with a laugh. “But I’m not deaf—and even if I was, I could have probably read your lips because it’s not like any of you have ever been subtle.” He rubbed a hand down his face before leaning back and staring up at the sky that was just dark enough to show stars. “I know I’m not a catch, okay? I knew it wasn’t my sparkling personality or modelesque body that captured Alice’s attention. I’m everyone’s diversity hire.”
Emil sucked in a breath. “I’m your friend, Victor.”
“Yes,” Victor said. “But you’re kind of a shitty friend. I was happy to take what I could get from all of you because I figured that this kind of company was better than being lonely for the rest of my life. I thought…” He stopped, then laughed and tasted bitterness along the sides of his tongue. “I thought maybe I’d stop being the punchline to all your jokes after a while. But that’s on me. Not you.”
“Vic,” Emil whispered.
“It’s fine,” Victor said in a rush. He didn’t have the energy to deal with Emil’s…whatever it was he was feeling. Crisis of conscience, maybe? “But I do have pride, okay? I do. And I’m just tired. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get back. I just know that I’m going to take my time getting there. And none of you have to worry about me making some big scene.”
He heard Emil’s sharp inhale and slow exhale. “You’re actually leaving, aren’t you?”
Victor laughed again. “Wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know if I’d be brave enough to go,” Emil admitted, and Victor thought that might have been the most honest thing the man had ever said. He cleared his throat. “I don’t think I can live with myself if we part ways like this. I never meant—” He stopped on a sigh. “I’m sorry. Victor. I’m really,reallysorry.”
Victor believed him, but he wasn’t interested in being someone else’s inspirational lesson about humanity and kindness. He’d been through that kind of shit enough.
Everyone assumed he was nothing but a walking pile of misery, but he actually wasn’t. His body didn’t make him unhappy. Everyone else did.
And these two weeks made him realize he’d just been walking all the wrong paths in all the wrong places for so, so many years.
“I need to go.”
“Vic—”
“I need to go,” he repeated. “Do whatever you need to do to clear your conscience. But leave me out of it, Emil.” He’d been waffling about his decision for a long while, but he realized he’d made his mind up before he left the city. “I don’t know if I’ll be back into the office again, but you’ll be the first to know if I decide to sell.”
Emil took a slow breath. “What are you going to do?”
He thought about Oliver. About his dreams and his goals. He thought about the way he smiled at Victor and believed he could do anything he wanted. And hell, he wasn’t wrong. He just didn’t know where to start.
“I don’t know yet,” he said, and damn, that felt good. He hung up before Emil could coerce him into spilling anymore of his inner turmoil, then pulled up his email and sent his finance manager a quick message about his plans.
He put his notifications on silent after that because he knew his phone was going to be blowing up, and he left it on the table as he headed back to the living room.
Where he immediately froze.
In the ten minutes he’d been outside, Oliver had woken up, upended everything, and created…
“Blanket fort!” Oliver said from a pile of pillows and a comforter beneath a crooked tent made of floral sheets. All Victor could see was his bright shining eyes and his little grin, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. “I ordered in for breakfast, and I thought it could be fun to eat it under here.”
Victor stared at him. “If I get down there, I don’t know if I’m getting back up.”
“It’s not the worst way to spend a day,” Oliver told him. He slipped one arm out of the blanket and made a grabby hand before faltering, his expression falling. “It’s fine if you think it’s dumb.”
Victor quickly shook his head, and he leaned over to grab the side of the sofa, careful not to dislodge all the spots where Oliver had tucked in the sheet. He bent his knees and awkwardly slid to the ground, then stared at his feet before attempting to hike up the hem of his pants, but his fingers were being even less cooperative than usual.
He felt Oliver’s gaze on him for a long moment before he asked, “Can I help?”
Victor bristled, but only at himself for feeling weak. “Yes. Thank you.”
Oliver grunted as he wriggled out of his self-imposed blanket burrito, and he flopped onto his stomach, shoving Victor’s pant legs up to his knees, exposing his orthotics. Victor stared at them, trying to see them from the perspective of a man who hadn’t looked at them every single day of his life.
