“I’m having a beer,” I tell her.
“I’ll have the same then,” she states as she stands with her hands on the wooden counter. I walk over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle, and twisting off the cap.
“Glass?” I ask her and she shakes her head as I hand her the beer.
“Thanks,” she replies softly and then takes a pull. “So what are we having?”
“Steak and baked potatoes.” I look over at the potatoes I just wrapped in foil. “Wait, do you eat steak?”
“I ate a burger the first night we met,” she reminds me, walking around and grabbing the ingredients for the salad.
“So how are you? I know the last few days must have been hard,” she asks, grabbing the cutting board and the knife.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” I don’t even know how or why the words come out of my mouth. They just do and I don’t even have a chance to stop them.
She looks up at me. “Really?” Her voice is calm as she continues chopping the salad. “Why?”
Yeah, Zane, my head screams, Why? “There are a whole slew of reasons,” I start and pick up my own beer, taking a pull. “My job.” I look over at her, itching to fucking kiss her, but stopping myself from taking the one thing I want. After this whole shitty fucking day, the only thing I want is to kiss her, sit down with her, and hear her laugh. “Does our age difference really not bother you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Does age even count these days? George Clooney and his wife Amal are seventeen years difference. Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who is so freaking hot, and his wife are sixteen years difference and not for anything but I’d do him.” She laughs and I lean against the counter behind me, watching her. I’ve never had a woman in my space before. My relationships have always taken second place to my job, always. Which means I didn’t have the time to give the women I dated time, meaning they quickly moved on. Sometimes without telling me.
“I was in high school when you were born.” I mention of the fifteen years between us.
“It’s not my fault the world wasn’t ready for me sooner.” I smirk at that answer.
“My main focus should be my job.” I leave out for however long I might have it.
“Don’t blame me if I’m all you can think about.” She again jokes about it and this time I can’t help but laugh. I put the beer down and rub my hands over my face.
“Victoria,” I say her name and it’s like I was made to say it.
“Hold on a second.” She puts the knife down on the cutting board. “Did you invite me here to break up with me?” She puts her hands down on the counter beside the cutting board. “Even though we aren’t really seeing each other and we’ve had sex twice?” Her voice that was soft before is now growing louder and her eyes have turned fully gray. I hate she’s pissed and upset, and I hate even more that I’m the one that made her pissed and upset.
“I have to go,” she states, turning and walking to her jacket, and I bite my tongue to tell her not to. She starts to put her jacket on as she looks at me. “You know, I wasn’t coming over here tonight expecting anything from you. I have never once forced you to give me something or anything more than what you’re willing to give. But I also know I deserve so much more than whatever this is,” she declares, and she walks to me. “I want someone who trusts me, respects me, and communicates with me.” She is standing in front of me. “Someone who is kind and has empathy, but is not closed off to building something with me.” I don’t move because all I want is to grab her by her hips and pull her to me. “If you can’t give that to me, then you have to let me go.” She stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to decide this minute. You’ve had a pretty shitty week. But now that I’ve said all I have to say, I don’t want you playing games with my heart.” She inhales. “Now, I want you to think about what you want. What does Zane want?” She smiles at me and it’s a sad smile. “I hope that you are good to him.” She puts her hand on me, right in the middle of my chest. The heat from her hand seeps through my shirt. “Because he’s really one of the best guys I’ve come to know.” Her hand falls from my chest as she turns away from me. “Goodbye, Zane,” she says softly. I listen to the door slam shut and then hear the start of her car. Only then do I pick up my beer and throw it across the fucking room.
eighteen
Victoria
Jaxon:
We are eating at noon, even if you aren’t here.
I pick up the phone in my lap and turn it over, seeing the text as I have coffee on my deck. The sun is coming in and out of the clouds as I lift the cup and put it to my lips.
I went to the game last night but opted out of going to the bar with my brother and our friends afterward. The last thing I wanted was to see Zane. I was still pissed at him about the showdown we had at his house over a week ago, when he stood there not giving me anything as I put it all on the table. I couldn’t help but be mad at him even though I had no reason to be pissed at him; I only had myself to blame.
I finish my coffee and then head to the bedroom to get ready for lunch. I know my parents are still in town, as is my uncle Nico, who is one of my father’s best friends and the owner of the Dallas Oilers hockey team. I slip on a pair of loose-fitting white pants with a brown belt and a tight, gray high-neck sleeveless top that hits right above my waist. I slip on my brown Hermes shoes before heading to the bathroom to do my hair and then apply some mascara and some blush on my cheeks. Might as well look good even if I don’t feel it inside.
I spray my perfume on both sides of my neck, and then on my wrists before slipping on a couple of gold bracelets and then my silver-and-gold Rolex watch I got for my graduation. I head to the door and get into the SUV, putting on my sunglasses as I make my way over to Jaxon’s.
The driveway is full of cars, and I know I’m going to be told I’m late, even though I look over and see I’m technically one minute early. I get out of my SUV, grabbing my purse in one hand and the phone in the other. I walk up the steps as my hair blows in the soft wind, not bothering to ring the bell.
I step in and the smell of food immediately makes my stomach growl. Even from the doorway, voices can be heard all the way to the front of the house as I start walking toward the family room. “Ladies and gentlemen, the favorite child has arrived,” I announce, walking into the room with my hand in the air and stopping when I look over and see Zane standing there. I shake it off and turn to my parents. “Please, don’t all rush me at once.”
I put down my purse on the side table, hearing my father laugh as he comes to me. “Hello, favorite child.” He takes me in his arms.
“It doesn’t count after the fact, Dad,” I tell him as I hug him.
