Page 49 of Letters From Victor

“He’s got your eyes,” Victor said, looking up at me. “A striking young lad.”

I remained standing, glancing at the door behind me.

“Sit, please,” Victor urged as he straightened up. “You make me nervous standing there like that.”

I chuckled as I ushered Frankie into the booth. “I didn’t think anything could make you nervous.”

“Ah, then I hide it well. Inside, my heart’s knocking like a salesman on payday.” He placed a hand over his chest with a lopsided grin.

My shoulders relaxed, and a smile crept onto my lips. I slid into the booth beside Frankie, who was busy examining the menu, his little fingers tracing over the pictures. Victor sat across from us and leaned in, his presence commanding even in the cramped space.

“He’s adorable,” Victor said, his voice low, eyes flicking between me and Frankie. “I’ve ordered some milkshakes. I hope that’s all right.”

Frankie’s face lit up, and he looked to me for approval. I nodded, though my mind was elsewhere—Victor, so close, hiscologne cutting through the greasy air, was almost too much to bear. All I wanted to do was throw myself into his arms, consequences be damned.

“Thank you,” I said, forcing the words through a tight throat. “That’s very kind.”

Victor leaned back, casually draping an arm over the top of the booth. “I’m so glad you came.” His eyes almost twinkled as he smiled at me, the finest of lines spreading out from the creases of his eyelids.

“So, this isn’t the part where you hand me a pink slip over a milkshake?” I deflected, arching a brow.

Victor’s smile widened. “Fire you? Never. My days would be utterly unbearable without you in them.”

Relief washed over me, cooling the feverish tension that had built during the bus ride. Victor’s assurances were a balm, though doubt still lingered like a fresh bruise.

The swinging door squeaked open, and a young waitress appeared, balancing a tray laden with three tall glasses. Condensation dripped down the sides, pooling onto the chipped enamel surface as she set them down with a clatter. Frankie’s eyes widened, round as saucers, at the sight of the whipped cream and cherry crowning the milkshake in front of him.

“Enjoy,” the waitress chirped, her voice cutting through the hum of the ceiling fan.

Frankie lunged for his glass, but I intercepted his hands before he could send it toppling onto his lap.

“Easy, darling. Don’t spill.” I scooped up a spoonful of whipped cream and offered it to placate him. He accepted eagerly, his face lighting up in pure, unfiltered joy. I eyed Victor. “You do realize he’ll be up half the night now with all this sugar.”

Victor leaned back in his seat with a lazy shrug. “Let the boy live a little.”

“When he’s still bouncing off the walls at midnight, I’ll remember the part you played.”

“If I’m not keeping you up at midnight, I’m not doing my job right.” He winked, his voice smooth as silk.

Heat flooded my cheeks. I took a long sip of my milkshake, hoping the thick, rich chocolate would cool the warmth creeping up my neck.

Victor’s gaze settled on Frankie, who had a ring of whipped cream around his mouth like a clown’s smile. His expression softened, though a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.

“I never knew my Margaret at this age,” he said wistfully.

“I’m sure she was a cherub.”

Victor swirled his milkshake, watching the whipped cream disappear into the chocolate below. “Barbara,” he started, then hesitated. “There’s something you should know.”

A thousand thoughts collided in my mind like billiard balls on a crowded table. I focused on Frankie, who sucked at his straw so hard that his milkshake burbled up over the rim, dribbling down the sides like a tiny chocolate volcano.

“Well?” I prompted, brushing a napkin over Frankie’s sticky fingers. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Victor looked up from his glass. “It’s Frank. And the other reason he came to see me today. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you because up until now, it’s been none of my business. But…”

My breath caught. “But?” My voice was thinner than I intended. “Does he know about us?”

Victor’s lips curved slightly, but there was no humor in it. “Well,thatwould most definitely be my business.” He swirled his glass. “And if he did, darling, I’d have had to scrape him off my office floor.” He let out a short, dry chuckle. “But, no, I don’t think so. He might suspect something, but if he knew for certain, I imagine he would’ve done something remarkably foolish.”

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