VICTOR
Ipounded the computer keys, typing out a response letter to the temp agency that supplied us with interns. The day had gone from bad to worse, just little things piling up until I was so irritated, I was snapping at everyone. I’d spilled my coffee on my trousers, nearly rear-ended a school bus before work, had to ride up in the elevator with Sarah Babcock—town gossip, and that was just how my day had started.
Each typo made me more frustrated, and by the time I was finished with the email, I was finished with my day too. I hit send and scrubbed my hands over my face in complete exhaustion. Since the moment Katherine had confessed her pregnancy to me, I had done nothing but stew. It would be only a matter of a few short weeks before she started showing and I ended up eating my words.
The bottle of bourbon I kept in my desk drawer called to me, beckoning me to open the drawer and bring it out. I slid a shot glass out of the desk and filled it with the dark honey-colored drink. The first shot went down quickly, and the second one I held in my hand, staring at it as Ivy walked in.
“Got one more brief for you to look over before you check out.” She dropped it on my desk, and it slid into my lap. I looked up at her with a light scowl and downed the second shot, setting it down a bit harder than necessary. “Geesh, what’s up your ass?”
My scowl turned to a glare, and I put the file back on my desk, opening it and leaning over it. I stared at the documents, but they weren’t making much sense to me. It was definitely a tomorrow job. I was in no mood to look things over and given my current temperament I thought it best to just let it rest for a while. Ivy would pry; I would confess, and there would be an argument, but I didn’t care.
“What’s going on?” She sat in the chair across from me, leaning her elbows on my desk like it was an interrogation. It sort of would be. I wouldn’t give up the information easily, but she’d fish it out. She was good like that. It just irritated me that she always got to me. It gave me a mind to get up and leave before she began her surgery. But my heart was so heavy, I couldn’t even look at the door.
So, my eyes continued to skim over the words on the page, uselessly taking in each word I’d never remember. I attempted to focus, or maybe I was just trying to look like I was focusing with the hope that Ivy would leave. Either way it wasn't working. She stared at me, and her stares turned to finger tapping, then nail biting. Then her hand smacked down on the desk, palm open.
I jerked my head up to look her in the eyes. “What!”
“You’ve read that page at least four times. What the hell is going on?” No longer were her eyes full of accusation. The way her brow arched, her face showing sympathy, I knew she was concerned.
My eyes flicked to the bourbon, and she poured me a drink without being asked. When she slid it across the desk to me, I sighed, staring at it. I didn’t need more to drink. I needed someone to make the chaos stop. The problem wasn’t the unexpected pregnancy. I had lain in bed the past few nights wondering how it would feel once my baby was born. I was going to be a father. For that I was excited.
No, the problem was whether or not Katherine had planned this, and how I was supposed to react to it. I loved her more than I’d ever loved anyone else. Wanted her more than anything or anyone. How could this happen? Why was my past replaying itself over and over in my present, and how long in my future would this continue to happen?
“Victor, goddammit. Just talk to me.”
Ivy nudged the shot glass, and I picked it up and downed it, setting my jaw and glowering at her.
“It’s her, isn’t it? What happened?”
Three shots in and I was finally beginning to loosen up a bit. I folded the file shut and slid it into my desk drawer for tomorrow, then folded my hands and leaned across the desk. It was better to rip the bandage off and get the lectures out of the way rather than stir up office drama for weeks with my brooding.
“Nothing happened.” I just couldn’t get my tongue to form the words. I stared at my hands, crossing and uncrossing my fingers nervously.
“Something happened. You’re treating everyone like your personal punching bags, and I, for one, have had enough. Now if I have to get you drunk and drive you home, just so you’ll start talking, I will.” Ivy poured another drink, but I pushed it away. “Talk.”
My head hung down and I closed my eyes. The shame of saying “you were right” was just too bitter a pill to swallow. My eyes blinked open, a bit groggy with drink, and I followed a swirl in the grain of wood across the top of my desk.
“Did she break your heart? Is she out for your money? Is she just like her—”
“She’s pregnant,” I blurted out, stopping her line of questions. I couldn’t look up. Yes, she broke my heart. Yes, she was out for my money—just like her mother, only worse. She had used the one thing that she knew I’d never say no to. I wanted children.
Ivy didn’t speak for a solid five minutes, and I didn’t look up at her. Each time I thought to say something, it was choked back by unspent emotion. The alcohol continued to take hold, relaxing me, just not enough to not feel hurt or enraged by the circumstance I was in. I knew I’d hit my limit though, and I’d need to wait at least an hour before driving now.
When I decided the silence was unbearable, I looked up at Ivy. “Say something. Say you told me so, or that you were right, or whatever. Just get it over with.”
I expected Ivy to have an arrogant smirk, but instead she frowned, her eyes sad. She reached my hand and patted it, taking the shot of whiskey away from me and downing it herself.
“I’m sorry, Vic. I had no idea, okay?” She retreated, putting the glass and the bottle on the floor on her side of the desk. It was obvious that she realized this was affecting me so much I may do something really stupid. “Tell me what happened.”
It took me a few minutes to regain my composure, so I didn’t bite her head off, but I managed to let her know what happened. Everything from the way Jillian had reacted, to the day at the farmer’s market with Harwin Puschel, to the argument at my house, making up, and even how sick Kat had been. The way she confessed to me with tears… I left nothing out. And when I’d shared my piece, I was drained. I wanted to lock her out, finish the bottle, and pass out across my desk.
“God, I’m sorry. I should have been more supportive of you this entire time, Victor.” She scooted her chair closer to the desk and cupped both of her hands around mine. “But you love her. Right?”
Where were the harsh accusing words I had expected? The lecture or belittlement? Ivy should have been railing on me for having fallen prey to yet another uncouth woman. But she was consoling me instead. I nodded. I did love her.
“That’s all that matters. You love her. When you love someone, you don’t start to hate them because they hurt you. That’s why you’re so tormented. If this were just some other gold-digging bitches, you wouldn’t care. You’d have sent her away the way you did all those other women. But this one has you torn up.”
But did it matter that I loved her? If she didn’t love me back? If her only motivation to get pregnant was not to make me a father to show me she loved me, but instead to weasel her way into my money? I couldn’t respond to Ivy.