Chapter 85

#Chapter 85 – Fallout There is a long moment where neither of us move. And then Victor groans – not the kind of groan he made just a few minutes ago, but the sound of a very tired man. He rolls back away from me, moving his hand from my hip.

Suddenly cold and awkward without the solid warmth of him behind me, I sit up and reach for my tshirt, which lays crumpled a foot away. As I do this, Victor pulls up his pants and re-buckles his belt, not looking at me. I pull the shirt over my head.

Then, we face each other, silent, sitting on my kitchen floor, me with my feet curled beneath me, him with his back against the cabinet, his legs bent in front of him and arms resting slack on top of his knees.

I don’t say a word, but stare at him, trying to gauge his emotions. Victor’s face is complex as he looks back at me. He runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Evelyn,” he says, his voice measured. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head.

Victor frowns at me. “What?”

“Don’t talk about it like it’s something you did to me, Victor,” I say, angry. “It’s something that happened to both of us. We were both there! We did it.”

“Still,” he says. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Neither should I,” I say, shrugging, looking down at the floor. Despite that truth, I can’t bring myself to apologize.

“It was a…strange night,” he says, and I glance at him again. He’s looking off into the living room, thinking. “I had had a lot of whiskey tonight, and…it was The Hunt, you know.” He lets his voice drift off here.

I do know. Joyce and I had our own Hunt when we were engaged, but I refused him that night, wanting to wait for wedding night. A mistake, in retrospect. Still, I know what Victor means.

“Don’t do that,” I say, my voice hard. “Don’t try to blame whatever this is,” I gesture at the space between us, “on whatever drugs you took tonight off of some girl’s lips.”

He frowns at me, narrowing his eyes. “But that’s all it was. Without all the whiskey, the hallucinogens –“

“Victor,” I say, silencing him. “Don’t lie to me. This thing between us?” I pause, and the look he gives me lets me know he knows exactly what I’m talking about. “It has been brewing for weeks, months.”

Years, maybe, I think, but I’m not brave enough to voice it.

Victor tightens his jaw and turns his gaze away. His hands tighten to fists. “This is nothing, Evelyn,” he growls.

I laugh at him, baldly, and he whips his head to glare at me.

“I love Amelia,” he snaps, his face angry and guilty at once.

“Then why are you here,” I say, gesturing towards my kitchen, myself. My eyes are filled with my anger but that emotion hides a deeper hurt. “You were on your Hunt tonight, Victor. You were supposed to find your bride, to ravish her. So why are you here.”

“I don’t know, Evelyn,” Victor says, his voice rising to a frustrated yell. I shush him then, glaring at him and then up the stairs where my boys are asleep. He snaps his mouth shut and nods once, silently agreeing to be quieter. “All I know is that I had a lot to drink and then…whatever was in that woman’s potion. I must have gotten confused.”

I shake my head slowly from side to side knowing, somehow, that he wasn’t confused at all. “What’s happening, Victor?” I whisper, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“What do you mean?” He asks, looking me up and down. “We made a mistake –“

I shake my head again, growing firmer in my intentions. “I can’t do this.”

He frowns at me. “Can’t do what?”

“I can’t live like this.” I spread my hands to my sides, encompassing everything – everything we feel, everything we’ve experienced, all the complications of his wedding, and the boys, and my father. “I tried, Victor. It’s not working.”

“It’s fine, Evelyn,” he growls, leaning forward. “It was one stupid mistake. We won’t do it again.”

“We will, Victor.” I meet his eyes, knowing that I’m right.

“Everything can return to normal – “

“Do you realize my father was right?” I say, my voice soft as I voice my thoughts aloud. He goes perfectly still when I say that, staring down at the ground.

“You’re going to marry Amelia,” I whisper, “and then you’re going to keep me out here, your little pet…”

I shake my head. “And whenever you want me, I’m going to be here, wanting you.” I feel my eyes fill with tears.

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Evelyn,” Victor says, his voice hard.

“Are you going to marry her?” I ask, lifting my chin to meet him eye to eye.

He says nothing, just returns my stare.

“She’s your mate, Victor,” I whisper as the tears slip down my cheeks. “I can never compete with that.”

He looks down at his hands, knowing that I’m right.

“I’ll go,” I say, pushing myself up and struggling to my feet. “I’ll take the boys, we’ll move somewhere else –“

“Evelyn, no,” he says, scrambling to stand as well. “You can’t go – you can’t take them away from me, you can’t leave –“

I brush his hands off me as he tries to take my hands, grab my arms. “No, Victor. We can’t live like this.

We tried, but Amelia…god, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Amelia was right. This doesn’t work. It can’t work!”

“We will make it work,” he growls, firm, putting his hands in his pockets as if the decision is made.

I shake my head again and take a step closer, putting a hand on his cheek. “Victor, if we stay here, this will happen again. Sooner or later. You’ll be someone who cheats on your wife, and I –“

“Evelyn, no,” he says, desperate, grabbing my wrist.

“Don’t make me your w***e,” I say, brushing away my tears. “I can’t live with that.”

Victor stares at me, unable to find words. I nod, decided, brushing my thumb over his lips one last time.

“Okay,” I say. “We’ll go. After Christmas, after the wedding. The boys and I will go. You’ll still be their father, you’ll have a role in their lives. But we can’t stay here.”

Gathering the last of my dignity, I straighten my skirt and walk slowly up the stairs. Behind me, I hear Victor pound his fist against my cabinet, muttering curses under his breath. Then, the door slams. I know he is gone.

Upstairs, two small faces press against the cold glass of their bedroom window. They watch as a tall figure strides away from them, heading for his own house across the yard.

“Daddy was under a spell,” one says, his voice fogging against the glass.

The other nods. “Can you see it fading from him?”

“Yes, little yellow sparkles falling behind him when he walks.”

“Do you think he knows it was a spell? What brought him here tonight?”

“No, daddy and mommy don’t believe in the magic. They think it’s all science. But some things from the fairy tales are real.”

One twin pushes himself away from the window. “When do you think they’ll figure it out?” he asks his brother. “That the magic between him and mommy is bigger than the magic between him and Amelia?”

“I don’t know,” the other twin says, shrugging. “Maybe we should help them find out.”

Smiling at each other, they turn back to their beds.