Page 74 of Love so Cold

"Most guys aren't quite so... domesticated," I say, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden intimacy of sharing my kitchen with him.

He glances over his shoulder, a half-grin playing on his lips. "Fend for yourself long enough, you pick up a thing or two."

I can't help but think of the countless meals prepared in silence, the unshared triumphs of a dish well done, how each bite was a reminder of his solitude.

The aroma of brewing coffee fills the room, comforting and rich. He sets a mug in front of me, steam curling up between us like a tentative bridge. I wrap my hands around the warmth, offering a small smile in thanks.

Victor pulls out a chair and sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him. A silent beat passes, charged with unspoken thoughts before he breaks it.

"I want this month to count," he says softly, eyes holding mine. "To really understand what makes this place special. And... to get to know you."

"Me?" The word is tinged with disbelief. "I'm not all that interesting, Victor."

"Disagree," he counters with quiet certainty. "Everyone has a story worth telling."

His belief feels like a gift I'm unsure how to accept. But there it is, an invitation hanging between us, warm and sincere as the coffee in my hands.

"Not sure that's true for me," I mumble.

"Of course it is," Victor insists, his blue eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and curiosity. "You've got this giant mosaic on your porch. That's pretty interesting."

I let out a small chuckle, dismissing the weight of his words. "That old thing? It's more of a reminder of what won't ever be finished—just leftovers from past dreams, I guess."

"Past dreams?" He leans forward, elbows on the table, genuinely intrigued. "Tell me about them."

I take a slow sip of the coffee he made. "Alright," I start, setting down the mug. "I ended up in Worcester because of a guy—typical young love story." My voice wavers slightly, but I push on. "I was eighteen and head over heels. Eric, that was his name. He had this grand plan to start an art studio together."

"Sounds ambitious," Victor comments, his tone softening.

"It was," I admit with a half-hearted smile. "My parents had passed away, and they left me a little money. Not a fortune, but enough to get me started in college." My fingers trace the rim of my coffee mug, not reallyseeing it. "But I believed in us, in the dream. So, I gave it all to that instead."

"And then?"

"Then life happened," I say, a bit more sharply than intended. "Found out I was pregnant, and just like that—Eric disappeared. Never heard from him again."

Victor's jaw tightens, and I can see a flicker of something in his eyes—anger, maybe, or understanding. It's hard to tell with him. But it's clear he's listening, truly listening, and that alone feels like a rare treasure.

I inhale deeply, searching Victor's piercing blue eyes for some kind of reassurance, but all I find is the reflection of my own fears. "Victor, I need to be honest with you," I start, feeling the weight of each word as it leaves my lips. "I've been down this road before and got burned—badly. Olivia, she needs stability, a father figure that won't just vanish. If you're here for a good time, then planning to skip town once your development's up, we can't do this."

Victor's expression hardens, his gaze sharpening like he's seeing the ghost of Eric in the room with us. "The guy was an idiot," he spits out, and there's an unexpected ferocity in his voice. "He had something beautiful—a family—and he left it all behind?"

His hands clench into fists on the table, and I can practically feel the tension radiating from him. It's clear he's grappling with more than just disdain for Eric's actions; it's personal for him.

"Victor..." I say softly, setting my coffee mug aside, the ceramic making a gentle clink against the wood. I reach out, my hands gently framing his face, drawing his attention back to me. His skin is warm under my touch, and I feel him exhale slowly, the anger dissolving under my palms.

He looks at me, really looks at me, and there's a vulnerability in those blue depths that catches me off guard. "If I had a family like this," he murmurs, his voice laced with a raw sincerity, "I'd never leave. Not ever."

And before I can process the gravity of his words, he leans in, and his lips meet mine in a kiss that steals my breath away. It's deep, filled with promises and a longing that resonates deep within my chest, echoing all the silent vows we're too scared to speak aloud.

Chapter Forty-One

Victor

The second Avery'shands cradle my face, it's like I'm hit with a wave of something fierce and warm. Her touch, it's nothing short of a lifeline. I lean in, closing the gap between us, and our lips meet in a kiss that feels like coming up for air. She murmurs something against my mouth, a reminder of her earlier warning — if I'm not here to stay, I should just walk away. But God, this place, with its peeling paint and creaky floorboards, with her soul stitched into every corner, it's wrapping itself around me, making me crave permanence.

"Stay," she breathes out, and it's a plea wrapped in a single word.

I can't help but deepen the kiss, my resolve melting away. My arms slide under her, lifting her with an easethat surprises me less than her silence does. Avery's legs wrap around my waist, and I brace myself for the rejection that's sure to come, for the push that'll set me back on my heels, both physically and emotionally. But it doesn't come. Instead, there's just more of her, her taste, her scent, all mixing together, grounding me in a way that's unfamiliar yet intoxicating.

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