“No, I don’t think so.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
Him? Every cell in her body seemed to surge toward her skin at the thought of Jamie.
“You didn’t come home last night, did you? Jesus, Olivia, that boy looks young enough to be one of your students.”
She turned the knob and her door swung slowly open, revealing her home just as she’d left it. Everything normal and neat and in place. But her emotions nearly disintegrated at the sight.
It didn’t make any sense. That she was standing here, looking exactly the same, surrounded by the same things. Yet she’d just done something completely ridiculous. Something dirty and delicious and irresponsible. Something that had felt better than everything that had ever come before it.
And now Victor—Victor—was following her in, saying nonsensical words to her. Saying the most ridiculous, hypocritical, utter shit to her.
She dropped her keys on the table, missing the little ceramic dish by a mile and not caring.
She set down her purse and tossed her sweater over a chair instead of hanging it up.
Then she turned to face her ex-husband. “You have got to be kidding me,” she pushed past her clenched jaw.
“Olivia—”
“No. What I meant was, You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
He cringed at the sound of that word coming from her mouth. Truthfully, she cringed a little, too, but it was a relief. Like lancing a wound.
“You’re in my house, asking about my personal life? You? It’s none of your business, in case you aren’t clear on that.”
“It’s my business when you’re flaunting your life in front of my friends and colleagues. He’s a beer slinger? What the hell were you thinking, bringing him to a university function?”
This was so outrageous that Olivia actually laughed. “I’m sorry, but…really? Really? You want to know something truly delicious? He is one of my students, Victor. And I was probably thinking the same thing you were when you brought one of your students to a party. Allison. Rachel. Whoever that girl was two years ago.”
“Those women are all pursuing—”
“I was thinking that maybe I’d like to fuck him.”
Victor’s face drained of color as if he were a shaken Etch A Sketch, wiped clean of detail. He rocked back on his heels. “You’ve gone off the deep end,” he whispered. “You’ve finally lost it.”
“The complete opposite, actually.”
“A woman your age, chasing after some young stud. It’s pitiful.”
Pitiful. After everything he’d done. In that moment, she hated him, and she wanted to wound him as he’d wounded her. “Pitiful?” she sneered. “It wasn’t pitiful a half hour ago, when he had me up against his head-board.”
Victor blinked and stepped back. For a split second, she saw something broken inside him. Regret and sadness. “I can’t believe you,” he hissed.
Hating the bolt of regret she felt, Olivia crossed her arms in defense. “Stop calling me. And don’t come over. Just live your life and leave me to mine. It has nothing to do with you anymore.”
He flashed a bitter, twisted smile. “Nothing to do with me? That’s rich. It obviously has everything to do with me.”
“Wrong. This is about me.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Olivia. If that’s what gets you through this disgusting little phase, you pretend it has nothing to do with me.”
“Get out,” she said quietly.
Victor drew something from the pocket of his coat and set it on the counter. “I was just bringing you the transfer information from the 403-B. It finally came through. That should be the last thing, thank God.”
“If you get anything else, could you please just mail it?”