My breath backs up into my lungs.
In the SUV, I had said jumbles of words, but nothing coherent. He wouldn’t know. Would he?
Then his eyes meet mine again.
“He told me to talk to you.”
A laugh almost comes out of me.
I look back at the fire. “That’s annoyingly ethical of him.”
“Yes.”
I hear him move farther into the room with easy steps. He comes around the couch and lowers himself into the chair angled near me, not too close, not too far.
The space between us feels deliberate.
I hate that I am grateful for it.
I hate that I want him to cross it and hold me.
For a few seconds, neither of us speaks.
The fire snaps again.
My body jerks.
Mario’s jaw tightens, but his voice remains even.
“Do you want something besides water? Maybe tea?”
“No.”
“Food?”
“No.”
“You need to eat.”
“I know.”
“Have you eaten today?”
I close my eyes.
There is that same practical care. Impossible to separate from the man who had people following me without my knowledge, and also saved my life because of it.
“No,” I say. I couldn’t eat a bite before my meeting; it was making me so sick.
“Victoria.”
“Do not start with me about food right now. Please.”
I am met with silence.
I open my eyes and look at him.
He is watching me with a focus so complete it would have made me defensive on any other day.
