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So, I sipped the noodle soup from the spoon. The moment it was in my mouth, time stood still. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t swallow. I was too busy trying not to panic because I felt the part I had already eaten try to come back up. I silently tried to control my body, but it was no use. I made a horrid noise, capped my hand over my mouth and ran like crazy to the bathroom. Victor was hot on my heels and to my utter mortification held my hair while I puked into the toilet.
Yep, not only did I not have more sexy fun with Victor, but I also threw up on him, and to keep him from rushing me to thehospital when I began to break out in big, red, splotchy patches of bumps, I had to confess what I did and why I did it.
Which pissed Victor off. He got so mad at me that he said he’d be back and left. I waited and while I did, I rubbed allergy cream over the hives and swallowed a couple pills. I stared at the door, willing him to come back and apologize for leaving without kissing me goodbye. He didn’t. So, I curled up in bed.
Sometime around midnight, I yelped when Victor got in bed with me. He kissed my shoulder and asked me if I was better. I wanted to say a lot in response, but all I managed to get out was yes. He said good. Then put his arm around me and was asleep within minutes.
I wanted to slap him and tell him to wake up so I could fight with him. I wanted to ask him why he was being a big fat jerk. I didn’t do any of those. I laid awake and stared at my wall in the dark. Eventually, I did fall back asleep—around two. I figured Victor and I could have it out in the morning.
Have I mentioned how wrong I was?
When four in the morning rolled around, Victor’s cell started going off. He was snoring and I kind of smelled alcohol on his breath last night. So, I figured he was in a deep sleep. It bothered me of course, but mostly because in all the time I had known him, Victor had never been drunk. I’m pretty sure he was close to being drunk last night.
I was wide awake thanks to the phone. I got up to go to the bathroom, did my business, and tried to—mostly unsuccessfully—tame my wild mop of hair. I tiptoed back into the bedroom to find some clothes. I knew I was awake for good. I had slept for too long when I got home from work. It was dark, so I settled for Victor’s shirt that was lying on the floor. It was a white button up. It smelled like smoke, but his cologne was there, too. It made me feel better. I finally thought the day would get better.
Again, I can’t seem to stress this enough, I wasextremelywrong.
That brings us to now. I’m staring at Victor’s suit jacket and his damn phone obnoxiously ringing. The man in question is currently snoring, and at this point I’m worried he drank too much because I have never heard him snore. I start to ignore the phone. Yet, I’m afraid. It has to be urgent for someone to call at this time of night. Against my better judgement, I fish it out of the inner pocket. The screen shows that someone named Morgan Rose is calling. I unlock his phone and stare at the screen. Victor’s phone code is the day we met. He showed that to me ages ago, and it meant so much that I made my own code match his.I’m kind of sappy.I’m just not sure I should answer it. The smart thing to do would be to wake Victor up. I know that. I also know that Victor has to get up soon to get ready. He has to be at the airfield before six. I really don’t want to wake him. He got in bed late last night as it is. I swallow down my doubts. Victor wants a relationship with me. He loves me. Sure, last night was a little rocky, but if you’re in a relationship, you don’t really have secrets—or at least that’s the kind of relationship I want. With that in mind, I pick up.
“Hello,” I whisper.
“Who is this?” a woman asks, and there’s no disguising the fact that she sounds pissed.
“This is Angelina.”
“I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number. I was trying to reach Victorio.”
“This is his phone. He’s in bed asleep right now.”
The woman goes quiet. My stomach begins to churn in a way that has nothing to do with last night’s chicken noodle disaster.
“I see,” she says and there’s something almost sinister about her voice. I don’t like it at all. “I had drinks with Victorio tonight, he and I are old friends.”
I could be overreacting, but the way she said old friends slithers inside of me and seems to wrap around my heart like ice.
“Okay,” I respond, not sure what else to say at this point.
“Oh! You must be the girl he’s been hired to watch over here in Miami,” she exclaims. She’s so calm and happy. Perhaps she doesn’t know she’s just stuck a knife in my heart, or maybe she does. “Can you tell him I called? He told me he was going to be in Phoenix soon and I happen to be going out that way, too. We’re supposed to meet up for dinner, but I forgot to give him my cell and I wasn’t sure he still had it.”
“It’s um, programmed into his phone under the name Morgan.”Shit, why did I tell her that?
“He kept my number. I’m not sure why that surprises me. We meant a lot to one another. Maybe fate is giving us a second chance. Just make sure he knows I called, please. Sorry to bother you.”
“Uh, sure. I’ll do that,” I mumble, feeling like my world just imploded.
“Good. Thank you, Jalena!”
“It’s Angeli—” I stop because she hung up.
I stare at the phone like it’s a snake and let it drop down onto his suit. I look at him and tears sting my eyes.
Victor went out drinking and met someone from his past. They had drinks and apparently enjoyed their time together so much that he made a date with her. Suddenly I’m bombarded by memories of him saying he loved me, and he was here to stay.
Lies.
I can’t figure out why he would lie to me. Maybe I was a pity project. Bring the poor girl out of her shell and make her feel alive again, type of thing. Or maybe it was just to see if he could be the man to lay the damaged chick. I don’t know. I don’t guess it matters. I’m not going to let him know how bad he hurt me.I’ll fake it. I don’t have a choice. I have an hour to prepare. Then, he’ll be gone to Greece—no, evidently, he’s going to Phoenix.
More lies.
