Page 51 of Letters From Victor

“In a minute, sweetheart,” I said, but my focus was locked on Victor. He had leaned back again, one arm draped over the booth, the picture of nonchalance—but his eyes told a different story. I fished a small wooden car out of my purse and handed it to Frankie.

“Vroom!” He ran the car along the edge of the table and around the empty milkshake glass.

Victor smiled. “He’s a car man. Like me.” The smile lingered as he watched Frankie, but when his eyes found mine again, his expression turned somber. “Barbara, I’m worried about you.”

The booth’s vinyl creaked as I shifted uncomfortably. “You’re worried about me?”

“About your home life.”

I started to protest, but Victor leaned in.

“Just hear me out.” His words were gentle but firm, cutting through my defenses before I could mount them. “It’s no secret that I hate the way he treats you. You deserve so much more. But Frank’s in trouble, and that means you’re in trouble too. The way he spoke to me today—it wasn’t the voice of a man in control. He was desperate. I have no idea how he came up with the money to pay me off, but I promise you it wasn’t from insurance commissions.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

“My hands aren’t clean, Barbara, and I’d never claim otherwise. But I’m not the most dangerous fellow out there. I don’t know who owns Frank now, but…”

“But what?”

He reached across the table and took both my hands in his. “But when I owned him, you were never in danger. I can’t say that anymore.”

Victor’s hands were warm and firm around mine. I stared at his fingers—strong, capable.

“Barbara,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “You need to think about what you really want. Not just for now, but for the future. A future where you’re happy, where you’re safe, where you’re free.”

“Are you saying,” I began slowly, “that you think I should leave Frank?”

Victor’s eyes never wavered from mine. “I’m saying you should consider a future with someone who truly loves you, respects you, and has your best interests at heart.”

“You mean with you.”

Victor’s gaze was unwavering. “Yes.”

I pulled my hands away from his, and a rush of cool air filled the space between us. “A tryst is one thing, Victor. And don’t misunderstand—I wouldn’t give that up for anything.” I lowered my voice to a hush. “But you’re married too.”

“I’m handling it.”

I looked down at the chipped, worn enamel of the table and traced the cracks with my fingernail, avoiding Victor’s piercing gaze. The silence between us was thick. I didn’t trust myself to speak. My thoughts raced, colliding with each other in a chaotic tangle—Frank’s debts, Victor’s confession, the looming uncertainty.

“Say something, Barbara. Please.”

I looked up and took a measured breath, letting the air slowly fill my lungs. “It’s all a lot to take in, Victor.”

“Don’t you want a life with me?” His dark eyes bored into mine.

“More than anything.” The words were out of my mouth like a bullet before I could stop them—before I could even think. I clapped a hand over my mouth.

Victor’s eyes lit with a dangerous hope. My stomach twisted into a dozen sailors’ knots. How had we ended up here so quickly? Just weeks ago, the idea of an affair had been unthinkable, and now we were talking about futures and feelings that ran deeper than the bed sheets.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

My breath caught. This was real. He was making it real.

“My lawyer has already been working on my divorce from Dotty. I’m meeting him this afternoon to see how far he’s gotten.” He leaned in closer, his presence enveloping me, and took my hand into his own. “So you see”—he pressed his lips to my palm—“I’m all in, angel.”

“I don’t even know how to get started.”

Victor kissed my knuckles, lingering just long enough to send a shiver through me. “I’ll set you up with my lawyer. He and I go way back. We served together in France, and I trust him with my life.”

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