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She seemed hesitant to walk away, but eventually, she did, and he decided in that moment that he was done hiding. He had no idea if he was ever going to be brave enough to reach out to Victor again, but he couldn’t let himself forget the people who had been there for him before Victor tumbled into his life.
He’d worked far too hard for it. And too damn long. He wasn’t letting it all burn down.
Not this time.
Chapter18
Life goes on.
It was such a shit motto, but Victor repeated it to himself anyway because it was the only thing that could get him to walk through the front doors of his building. He’d been assured repeatedly that no one knew the details of his failed nuptials. Alice had been keeping her mouth shut, and Charlie had been on extended leave, but Victor could feel the pressing weight of inter-office gossip the moment he got to his floor.
It probably didn’t help that he’d had his office moved while he was gone, but he had no doubt it also had something to do with the expression he wore.
He’d spent his final afternoon on his failed honeymoon by himself, surrounded by the scent Oliver had left behind. The rental fridge was full of their picnic leftovers, and when he was packing up, he stumbled on their blanket nest and the lava lamp, which Oliver had left on the kitchen table.
His heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest, put through a meat grinder, shaped into something new, then shoved back behind his ribs. It was beating sluggish and bleeding, but it was keeping him alive.
It felt foolish to be so head over heels for a man he knew such a short damn time, but Oliver had gotten him in ways no one ever had. In ways no one had ever bothered to try. He’d just beenthereto most people. The one with the funny walk and the weak hands. The guy with the plastic braces on his legs who got to where he was because of money and not his own hard work.
The person who had what he had in spite of his circumstances and not because he was clever or brave or important.
But Oliver had destroyed that with a single touch of his hand, and Victor knew he’d give up anything and everything to keep what he’d let go.
It was no fault of his own though. He’d tried. He’d attempted to ask Oliver for a chance, but he could see the determination in the younger man’s eyes, and he let go because it was only fair. Victor could live without Oliver, but he couldn’t live with keeping him and knowing Oliver would resent him for the rest of their lives.
The drive home felt impossibly long, and his bed was cold. He called his assistant and told her he wanted to move forward with putting his penthouse on the market—which would take forever to sell, so he had time to figure out what he wanted to do.
And by the first morning he spent alone, he knew what his next step was.
Emil was waiting for him in his office, holding a sheet of printer paper half-crumpled in his fist. When Victor shut his office door, Emil slammed it down on the desk and stared him in the eye. “You’re serious?”
Victor licked his lips, then shrugged. “Does that seem like a joke?” He hadn’t realized how quickly his shares would have gone up for sale, but he had no doubt that they were being purchased as they spoke. “Did you buy them?”
“Fuck you,” Emil spat.
Victor almost smiled. Emil was a little wild and a lot careless, but he was rarely angry. “Okay.”
Dragging a hand down his face, Emil stepped aside so Victor could take a seat behind his desk. “I managed to get the board to hold off on the sale.”
Victor’s gaze snapped up to Emil’s. “Why?”
“Because you’re acting irrationally. This is…you don’t just fuckingselleverything and abandon your friends because one person—”
“My fiancée was having sex with my business partner,” Victor said dryly, “who also happened to be one of my oldest and best friends. And you—my other oldest and best friend—knew about it. Everyone knew about it. You all let me walk around this office like a fool. Why do I owe you or anyone else here loyalty?”
Emil held his gaze for a long second, then slunk down into the chair and covered his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry.”
He sounded like he meant it even more in person than he had on the phone. Victor’s legs began to twitch, and he took a slow breath, willing his muscles to relax as much as possible while pushing his chair closer to the desk. He thought about Oliver—about how he never felt weak or fragile in front of him, no matter what his body was doing, and he missed that.
But more than that, he thought about how he wanted to feel that way all the time, and not because of just one man.
Victor steepled his fingers, elbows pressing to the desk, and he stared at Emil, who had his gaze pointed somewhere near his own feet. “I can’t be here anymore. This job—this life and everyone in it—it’s done nothing but make me feel small and miserable, and I know I’m better than that.”
Emil finally looked up, his eyes red but dry. “You are. I think…” He swore under his breath. “I think that’s why, Vic. It’s why no one said anything. Every single one of us knew you were better.”
“So you let me suffer.”
Emil didn’t answer him, and Victor couldn’t decide if it was better to have the implication or the harsh truth. “What are you going to do after this?”
