Chapter 6 - TOMMY ASKED VICTOR IF HE WAS IN LOVE WITH CHLOE
“Are you?”
Victor nearly choked on coffee.
Tommy sat across from him at the chessboard.
Chloe was helping Mrs. Gable in the kitchen.
“What?”
“In love with Chloe.”
Victor stared.
Tommy moved a bishop.
“You’re losing.”
“You are fifteen.”
“Correct.”
“You ask too many questions.”
“Also correct.”
Victor moved his rook.
Tommy looked bored.
“So?”
“No.”
Tommy nodded.
“Okay.”
Victor frowned.
“That’s it?”
“You said no.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“No.”
Victor stared.
Tommy grinned.
Then:
“She likes you.”
Victor’s hand stopped.
“Why?”
“Because she complains about you differently.”
That made absolutely no sense.
Apparently teenagers understood emotional nuance through irritation.
Then Tommy became serious.
“Don’t mess her up.”
Victor’s face changed.
The boy continued:
“She’s had to take care of me since she was nineteen.”
“I know.”
“She thinks if she stops holding everything, something bad happens.”
Victor understood that too well.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because you do the same thing.”
Victor stared.
Tommy moved his queen.
“Check.”
Annoying child.
Then Tommy said:
“If you both keep trying to control everything, you’ll make each other miserable.”
Victor leaned back.
“Who taught you therapy language?”
“Dialysis.”
Fair.
Then Chloe entered.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing,” Victor said.
“Your love life,” Tommy said.
Chloe froze.
Victor closed his eyes.
“Tommy.”
She walked straight toward him.
“Home.”
“I’m winning.”
“Home.”
Victor said:
“He is not.”
Tommy pointed.
“Liar.”
Normal.
Beautifully normal.
That night, Chloe confronted Victor on the front steps.
“Did he ask if you loved me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Get in line.”
She laughed.
Then quiet.
Snow fell around them.
Victor looked at her.
She looked back.
For once, neither had an emergency to solve.
No hospital bill.
No audit.
No Marco.
No fever.
Just silence.
Then Victor said:
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Chloe blinked.
That may have been the most frightening confession Victor Russo could make.
“With what?”
“You.”
Her chest tightened.
He continued:
“I don’t date.”
“I noticed.”
“I don’t bring people here.”
“Also noticed.”
“I don’t know what you expect.”
“Nothing.”
That answer bothered him.
“Nothing?”
“I have a sick brother, debt, two jobs worth of exhaustion, and a boss who thinks sleep is a personality disorder.”
“One job.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“You stopped cleaning offices.”
“How do you know?”
“Mrs. Gable.”
Traitor.
Chloe had quit the night office job after the medical billing correction and new benefits took effect.
Still:
“Not the point.”
Victor looked at her.
“What do you want?”
She thought.
“Honesty.”
He nodded.
“Space when I ask.”
“Yes.”
“No gifts that cost more than my car.”
He looked offended.
“Your car barely runs.”
“Exactly.”
“Fine.”
“No fixing problems behind my back.”
His expression changed.
“That one will be difficult.”
“I know.”
“And you?”
“What?”
“What do I get?”
She stared.
This was new.
He had boundaries too.
Finally:
“I won’t treat you like a monster every time you get angry.”
He looked surprised.
“But?”
“I will tell you when you act like one.”
Fair.
“Anything else?”
She smiled slightly.
“I’ll keep playing chess with Tommy at your house so you can lose to a teenager.”
Victor stepped closer.
“Bennett.”
“Yes?”
“You talk too much.”
“Fire me.”
He looked at her.
“No.”
Then he kissed her.
Not dramatic.
No wall.
No grabbing.
He gave her enough time to move away.
She did not.
The kiss lasted maybe four seconds.
Then Chloe stepped back.
Eyes wide.
“Oh.”
Victor almost smiled.
“You said that.”
She stared.
“You are never going to let me forget that first morning.”
“No.”
May you like
Good.
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