Chapter 26 - Victoria

Victoria

S o many things come into focus once a person opens their eyes and really sees. I knew that now as my head continued to pound and Hannah continued to fuss around me. I was back in my office, nursing a bottle of water. She and some Royal City trainer were caring for me when I regained consciousness.

William. That was his name.

Nice guy. Kept checking my pulse and listening to my heart.

He also kept asking if I’d eaten enough and if I was dehydrated.

The cause of my fainting spell wasn’t lack of food or water. It was ghosts. Ghosts I didn’t know existed one month ago but were now front and center in my life.

The whole ordeal played in my mind like a bad movie.

Someone thought I was my dead sister. Darkness. Voices. The feel of warm material on my legs. More voices. Footsteps. Silence. Then I opened my eyes.

“You should give this back to Bennet,” I said listlessly, pointing at the suit jacket on my desk. It’d been draped over my legs while I laid unconscious on the floor. Apparently Xavier was adamant about keeping me covered. How thoughtful. Too bad he wasn’t as adamant about being there when I woke up.

I stood.

Oh boy.

The room spun. I took a deep breath and held onto the edge of my desk.

“Are you okay?” Hannah rushed over. “Should I call William again?”

“Nope. I’m fine.”

“I want you to go home. Glen can cover the rest of the day.”

Actually, that didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

My legs wobbled. Driving will be interesting.

Hannah grabbed her phone. “Hey, it’s me. I’m sending Victoria home but I think— Yep. Perfect. Thank you.”

She looked at me after ending the call.

“Bennet’s driver will take you. Come on.”

I lacked the will to argue, so I grabbed my things and followed her down to the parking lot. Forty minutes and one hell of a comfortable ride in a Bentley later, I was home. Hannah insisted on staying but I told her if she didn’t leave me alone I’d quit my job. She left in a huff but promised to text me every half hour.

At least somebody would. I rolled my eyes at my own petulance but my phone has been silent since I passed out. Nothing from Xavier. Not one word. I oscillated between anger and hurt. Right now, anger appeared to be winning.

It fueled me as I paraded into the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and scowled as my eyes filled with tears. I shouldn’t be this upset. Maybe he’s just as shocked and confused as I am. Maybe he needs a minute to figure out what happened, just like I do. Wiping my eyes, I undressed .

Shit.

In all the uproar, I left my underwear in my office. Now there’s something a person doesn’t say every day. Thankfully I’d locked them in my desk but still. Not smart or professional.

I moved through my bedroom on autopilot, sifting through the closet shelves for something comfortable to wear. After settling on yoga pants and a tank top, I flopped on the couch. Again, not smart. My head pounded. I closed my eyes, willing myself to relax.

Dinner with my father proved to be the least stressful event of the day. The most stressful prize goes to Killian and Max after I asked them to pick up my car at the stadium. Neither one would do it until I told them what happened and why.

I did, of course. They’re my closest friends and know everything anyway. What’s another grenade to lob into the fray? Killian pestered me about not laying into Xavier for pulling a disappearing act. I went off on a tirade to actually defend Xavier and the overwhelming shock factor of the situation. Maxim played referee, again.

I threatened to delete Xavier’s number from Killian’s phone if he texted him without my permission. The last thing I wanted or needed was my friend launching an offensive against my boyfriend.

My boyfriend?

Christ Almighty.

I arrived at the restaurant first and waited at the table, checking my phone every two minutes to see if I had a missed text from Xavier.

I didn’t. Obviously.

I typed out a message, deleted it, typed another, deleted it. Frustrated from my own lack of conviction and ability to send even a simple text, I dropped my phone on the table. The server came over to see if I wanted anything to drink. I wisely stayed with water .

“There she is.” The sound of my dad’s voice transported me back to when life was uncomplicated and whole. “Sorry I’m late.”

Much to my surprise, I flashed him an unforced smile. “I haven’t been here long.”

He sat across from me and reached for my hand. His skin was tanned and soft with more defined wrinkles than I remembered. Has it really been three years? A lump formed in my throat. Why do I keep pushing the people I should be leaning on the most away?

“You look beautiful, Tori,” he beamed.

My heart twisted. Killian and my dad are the only two people I allow to call me Tori. It was my sister’s nickname for me and even though I complained about it non-stop when she was alive, I did secretly like it. But now that she’s gone, only my dad and Killian have the privilege.

“It’s the dim lighting,” I joked.

He waved off my silliness. “Neither you nor your mother could ever take a compliment.” His faint English accent was more pronounced.

I squeezed his hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Better.”

“What brings you to New York?”

“You.”

I rolled my eyes. “I highly doubt that.”

“So skeptical.” He grinned. “Tell me what you’ve been up to at work.”

Talking to my dad about work was the easiest way to get the conversation started. Plus, I actually had quite a bit to say. And it relaxed me. I could tell him things without hiding a detail or forcing an emotion.

My dad worked a lot when we were kids, much to my mother’s dismay. But we lived a beautiful life and I always appreciated the sacrifice. I also absorbed quite a bit of my dad’s work ethic.

My sister and I never felt neglected or like his job was more important than us. Every night, without fail, when he returned home after a long day, Dad would sit with us on the couch and ask about school or cheerleading practice or the debate team’s next competition.

He was always present. Always.

Until it all fell apart.

“Ray mentioned you visit them every year to brag about me,” I said, sipping my water.

“I do,” he admitted. “If I don’t brag about my little girl, who will?”

“Certainly not Mom,” I muttered.

“Victoria Ava,” he scolded. “I realize Helena isn’t the easiest person to deal with but she is your mother.”

I shrank in my chair. I never liked getting reprimanded by my father. Even now as an adult it made me feel like a little kid.

“I know what happened with the cottage,” he continued, folding his hands. “She told me about the contentious phone call you had with her.” He frowned. “I wish you’d both work on this rift. I know it’s not easy but how much longer can it go on?”

I clenched my fist, unable to prevent the words from pouring out. “I’ll work on it when she stops blaming me for everything.”

“She doesn’t blame you.”

“Oh no? It must have been someone else who said I caused all this and called me selfish.”

My dad shifted uncomfortably in the chair. I knew I wasn’t being fair to him. This dinner is supposed to be about us, not the awful relationship I have with my mother.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking down. “It was just really upsetting. Being at the cottage brought up so many memories. I’m sorry.”

His warm hand covered mine. “Your mother loves you, Tori. She doesn’t have a great way of showing it but she does. You are all we have.”

I didn’t know what else to say so I stayed quiet. He’s right. I am all they have.

After a few minutes I said, “I wish things could be different. I think that’s why I wanted to hold on to something that made us all happy at one point. That’s why I refused to sell Briarcliff.”

“I’m glad you didn’t agree to sell it. I’m sorry your mum was so harsh with you. That house holds different emotions for all of us. But I agree with you. It should stay in the family. That’s part of the reason why I’m here.”

My mouth popped open in surprise. I hadn’t thought about the cottage this much since coming home. Surprising, since it was the root of so much anxiety and stress when I was in England.

“Who is the man your mother mentioned?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “The one who answered your phone? Is he your boyfriend?”

Of course she mentioned him. Of fucking course.

“Oh. Uh, just someone random I met over there.”

“Do you know many random someones who offer to buy stranger’s houses?”

A dull headache pounded between my eyes. I rubbed my temples. “No. His name is Xavier. He’s a soccer player with Royal City Athletic. Do you follow the team at all?”

My dad’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Xavier Maddox? England’s goalkeeper?”

“Yeah,” I answered, slightly amused at his reaction.

“My daughter is dating England’s number one.”

“Wow. Okay. Dating is a strong word. We met randomly and spent some time together.”

Omitting the obvious didn’t mean my father all of a sudden fell off the turnip truck this afternoon. I’m thirty-five, not twelve. He can read between the lines. From the sardonic smile on his face, I figured he read the whole damn book.

“Regardless, he seemed to charm your mother after she got over the initial shock of speaking with him. She and I had several conversations over the last couple weeks and decided to transfer the cottage into your trust. Our attorneys finalized it on Monday. So,” he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, “these are yours now. ”

I opened the box, knowing what I’d find inside. Nestled on tissue paper were the original brass keys to Briarcliff Cottage. The locks had been changed years ago so these barrel keys wouldn’t work in any of the doors. They were more symbolic than anything.

I pulled them out slowly, admiring the intricate design. “I haven’t seen these since I was a little girl.” Wistful thoughts from another life spread an unexpected warmth through me. I put them back in the box and looked across the table at my father. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “The cottage was always going to be yours and your sister’s. It’s time for us to stop shedding anything and everything that reminds us we were a family. We still are a family. You, me, your mother, and Charlotte. We’ve all been remembering her in our own separate bubbles for too long. She may not be with us physically but we owe her the dignity of coming together for at least this one thing to keep her memory alive.”

I was at a complete loss for words. Part of me worried I’d pass out cold again. Adding fainting to my repertoire of pacing and general anxiety wasn’t something all too appealing.

The day Charlotte died appeared fresh in my memory. The worst home movie ever made continued to play on an infinite loop in my mind.

And now I had her diary with an endless trove of questions.

“Tori?” He reached for my hand. “What’s wrong?”

I studied my father. His warm, hazel eyes. The fine lines defining his aging face. The brown hair forever being swallowed by gray and white.

“Where do I start?” I shrugged, holding back my tears.

“Start at the place where it hurts the most.”

I thought of my sister and nodded.

And then I told him everything.

Pacing around my living room at two in the morning sounded super shitty on paper. In reality, it sucked even harder. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to curl up in my bed, bury my head under a pillow and succumb to the blissful nothing of unconsciousness.

But no. Sleep wouldn’t allow me the honor. Plus, I was expecting company.

Knock, knock, knock .

Right on time.

I shuffled to the door and opened it. Xavier swallowed me in a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I know it’s late.”

“I can’t sleep anyway. Aren’t you breaking curfew being out at this hour?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine. Come.”

We walked into the living room and sat on the couch. For someone who had unmatched control over his body, he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Can I get you a drink or something? You seem jumpy.”

“I can’t. Training in the morning.”

“Right.” I drummed my fingers on the couch. “So, what is it you want?”

He placed his hands on my thighs. “Are you okay?”

The twin flame of anger and hurt sizzled beneath my skin. All day without a word and now he wants to know if I’m okay? He sounded so sincere though. Like he always does.

“Was that guy your brother?” No reason to delay the inevitable.

Shock and disbelief ravaged his handsome features. And maybe a hint of relief. He stared at me for a beat and then answered, “Step-brother. How did you know?”

It’s way too late at night, or early in the morning, for me to delve into everything. So I decided to keep it factual and brief.

“Remember the diary you found in my sister’s room? ”

He nodded.

“I started reading it. Charlotte wrote about a boy she’d met one summer named Adam.”

Xavier’s mouth parted in surprise.

“He had a brother who was a goalkeeper…”

Another shocked expression.

“…and they didn’t seem to get along.” I shrugged. “So it looks like my sister dated your brother once upon a time ago.”

“Is there more?”

“Let’s just start there, okay?”

A small nod. His own internal battle raged behind his eyes. I reached up and played with his hair, combing my fingers through. He tilted his head, relishing my touch.

“After what happened in the changing room, I had a long talk with Adam,” he finally said. “He told me about your sister and how they used to see one another.”

He shook his head, almost as though those words sounded unreal coming out of his mouth.

“And he told me how she never came back. He didn’t know what happened to her. After a couple years passed he looked her up online and saw the death notice.” Intense blue eyes met mine. “He knew she was a twin but I guess the shock of seeing you,” he wet his lips, “he wasn’t thinking. He wants you to know how sorry he is.” This last bit came out forced, like he didn’t want to pass along the sentiment.

“What else did you two talk about?”

Xavier scrubbed his face with his hands and ran them through his hair. “That was all really. I don’t…he and I don’t have a good relationship so I never knew about her. I never met her.”

“Are you sure?” I tried to control the emotion in my voice.

“As sure as I can be. Adam and I didn’t really run in the same circles. He had his friends, I had mine. If we ever crossed paths I…I wouldn’t have paid much attention to what he was doing or who he was with. ”

“So where were you the rest of the day?” I blurted.

“With Bennet for a little while.”

“Doing what?”

He pressed his fingers into my thighs, squeezing hard. “Trying to make sense of all this, Victoria. I wanted to talk to you.” He looked at me. “I wanted to come right here and be with you all day but I also had to finish my preparations. I couldn’t just leave. We had film analysis and then I had my individual player analysis and the team dinner.”

His shoulders slumped. He looked so tired, both physically and emotionally.

“All I thought about was you,” he said softly. “All I wanted to do was come to you. I hope you know that.”

The twin flame of anger and hurt went out. I can’t be mad at him for doing his job.

“I don’t want to be a distraction for you,” I murmured.

“You’re not. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t. That didn’t come out right.” I swallowed. “I know how demanding it is to prepare for a game. I know the obligations you all have to meet. I just meant—”

His firm kiss stopped me from continuing. I wasn’t expecting it so I backed away slightly. He grabbed the back of my neck and kept me from moving, kissing me harder. Feeling how much he wants me made my head swirl.

“You,” he murmured on my lips.

“What about me?”

No answer. He only pulled me close and hugged me. I relaxed into his embrace, enveloped by his scent and the strength of his arms. After everything that happened today, I think we both needed this serene moment.

When Xavier finally let me go, he leaned back and stared down at his hands.

“How was dinner with your father?” he asked after a minute, meeting my gaze.

“Started off a little rocky but ended up better than I expected.”

“Yeah?” His expression brightened. “So you’re glad you went?”

“I am.” I paused. “He wanted to know who the guy was my mom spoke to on the phone. I told him it was you and he nearly fell out of his chair.”

“Really?” He chuckled.

“Oh yeah. And then he said something about you charming my mother when you talked to her.”

“I told you we had a lovely chat.” The playful arrogance returned to his tone.

“Well, whatever you did worked. My parents actually talked and transferred the cottage to my trust.” I spread my arms out. “Looks like we really are neighbors now.”

His eyes widened, glowing with hope and fear and resolve. And, of course, mischief. “Guess that means I’ll be visiting you all hours of the day and night.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of you shirtless in my yard cutting the grass,” I sassed.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, leaning closer. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

I would. I’d like it a lot. For a brief moment I allowed my thoughts to go places I never let it. To the future. To him and I as a couple.

If he could read my thoughts right now, I wondered what he’d say.

I shoved my fantasy life back into the safety of my mind.

“You should get back to the hotel before they find out you’re not in the room.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” he flicked his wrist dismissively. “Nobody’s checking.” An intense stare focused on me. “I’m not leaving you alone right now.”

The last time he said similar words to me I told him I’d only slept with him to distract myself and we were nothing. From the way he kept his eyes glued to me I could tell he was thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” I said. “But promise me you won’t get in trouble.”

“You’re worth it,” he declared, gently stroking my cheek. “Bedroom?”

I nodded, standing up. There’s no reason to fight this anymore. Our lives are forever entwined thanks to one fateful summer when we were both teenagers, blissfully unaware of the other’s existence. And now here we are, pressed together in a gentle embrace on my bed.

He played with my hair as I slid my hand under his t-shirt to caress his skin. My earlier fantasy of us as a couple came roaring back.

I didn’t stop it. I liked how it made me feel. I liked how he made me feel.

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?”

“This. Being here. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

He held me tighter. I curled into him, tangling my legs with his. He threaded his fingers through my hair, gently massaging my scalp.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t with you today.” A soft kiss lingered on my forehead.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do. My first priority is you. I promise I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” I nuzzled into his chest. “Especially during the season. If your schedule is anything like—”

“Victoria.”

I sighed. “Yes?”

“My first priority is you,” he repeated.

Propping myself up, I leaned on an elbow and admired his handsome, exhausted face. In the dim light, he appeared vulnerable.

Quiet anticipation filled what little space existed between us. I traced the curves of his lips and the slope of his nose, the sturdy angle of his jaw and the strong column of his neck. His eyes never left mine as I continued touching him, memorizing his features with my fingertips. I watched the tension in his face melt into a relaxed peace as his eyelids became heavier and his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm.

Giving him this gift of serenity made my heart sing.

I kissed his forehead and without any pretense or forethought, I let my lips wander to his scar, pressing soft kisses along the entire jagged length. Tremors shook his body but he didn’t flinch away or stop me.

So I kissed it again, each touch of my lips leaving behind an invisible mark of affection and gratitude.

Then I kissed his cheek. The corner of his mouth. And ended with a small kiss on his lips. His whole body exhaled when I pulled back.

“Show me again,” he growled.

“Show you what?”

“How you feel about me,” he commanded, his voice thick with emotion. “Kiss me.”

I did.

Our mouths fused together with raw desire, seeking confirmation for what neither one of us can put into words. Finding it and feeling it and surrendering.