Victor had lost complete control, his life running off the rails in spectacular fashion. Suddenly, everything felt fragile. With one wrong move, he’d cracked it open, and now, he didn’t have a clue what was left on the other side.
Placing a bag of popcorn in the microwave, Victor pushed the buttons, then turned toward the cabinet. He poured grape juice in Pip’s favorite cup, filling a glass with beer for himself.
The microwave had just beeped when Pip asked, “Will Belle marry that man and leave?”
The thought punched him in the gut, the bottom falling out of his world completely.
“No,” he said, fully aware that was the wrong answer. He couldn’t promise his niece of that.
However, when he repeated the word, shaking his head, it was spoken with a determination that couldn’t be denied.
All his lies fell away, crashing and burning around him like the wreckage of a plane.
He was in love with Belle.
He wassofucking in love with her.
Victor had sworn off that emotion since Amelia, and he thought he’d succeeded in casting it out of his life, certain he didn’t need it.
Now, he was starting to question if he’deverloved Amelia, because God knew his feelings for his ex hadn’t even come close to this insane, overpowering, intense, heart-thumping, chest-tightening emotion.
He loved Belle.
He wanted her.
She wasnotgoing to marry anyone else.
Period.
End of fucking sentence.
“No,” he said a third time, in serious overkill. “Belle is not going to marry that man.”
His assurances worked, as Pip smiled so widely, he could tell his little niece had been fretting about losing Belle almost as much as he had.
“Come on,” he said, feeling ridiculously lighter, considering his life was still in shambles. “Let’s watch that movie.”
Two and a half hours later, Victor was sitting on the couch alone. He’d put Pip to bed following the movie, then come backdownstairs, a spider on his web, waiting for the fly to return home.
Headlights flashed through the front window.
She was back.
Victor followed Belle’s progress as she entered the house. After her last date, she’d stopped in the living room when she saw the light. This time, she didn’t.
He’d anticipated that, so he stood up the moment he heard the door close behind her and the lock engage.
Victor stepped out of the living room just as she reached the foot of the stairs.
“Belle.”
She froze, her shoulders tightening, as if she was fighting to find her strength. Obviously, he hadn’t been the only one waging this constant internal war. He found comfort in their shared misery.
Not that he intended to be miserable for long.
Belle turned slowly, as if she had to force herself to face him. He’d been so wrapped up in his own head this past week, he hadn’t seen something that should have been apparent to him.
Belle looked as tired as he felt.
