Page 129 of Wasted
Victoria blinked, trying to absorb the sting of his words. He couldn’t have just said that to her. “I never should have let you back into my life.” She reached to shift the car into reverse.
“Victoria, wait.”
She paused, her heart pounding against her ribs.
“What about you? Wouldn’t your mom want you to be happy and thrive, too? To find someone you love and be free to make your own choices?”
A resurgence of moisture stung her eyes. She would not cry over him again. Not in front of him or anywhere else.
“That’s all I care about, Vicks.” His voice softened, the anger gone. “I still love you. I’ve always loved you.”
The words found the vulnerable spot in her heart and pierced the old wound that had never healed—the place once occupied by Cillian Doherty.
She closed her eyes against the pain.
“We’ve wasted too much time already. Too many years. Let’s not waste another second.” The tenderness in his tone stung like salt in the wound.
Oh, how she wished the situation were different. That her mother was alive to somehow persuade Dad to approve of Cillian. That Victoria had been mature enough all those years ago to demonstrate more Christ-likeness and better explain the Gospel instead of giving him her heart and adoration.
“Come on, Vicks. I know you love me, too. Let’s leave all this behind and build the life we were meant to have together.”
“I can’t.”
A heavy silence, thick and unbearable, filled her car.
“Because of him?” It was an accusation, raw and angry. But he had no right to put her in this position again. To make her choose again.
This time, she would not make the wrong choice. She swung her head to meet his anger head-on.
Hurt swirled in his eyes, too.
She swallowed back the remorse that climbed up her throat. She lifted her chin. “I will not destroy my family.” Destruction was exactly what would happen if she crossed her father in such a severe way. He would never forgive her, would cut her off, wouldn’t allow her to have contact with her siblings. Some of them might be led to cross him, too, because of her, perhaps choosing her over him. Their family would be in shambles. And her mother’s legacy, the only thing Victoria could still do for her, would be ravaged.
“I can’t believe you want to stay under your father’s thumb for the rest of your life.” The disbelief and anguish in Cillian’s voice matched his expression. “That you’d choose him over me. Again.”
Father, please help me stay strong. Help me to do the right thing.
The silent prayer worked like a shield against her heart’s desire to soften, to end the hurt she was causing Cillian. And to admit that despite being a grown woman who knew better, she’d started to love him again.
She steeled her jaw. He could not persuade her this time. “I choose to do the right thing.” She finally shifted into reverse and drove away from Massey’s house.
She would drop off Cillian at his apartment and return to the task God had given her—to care for her family as her mother would have and live a peaceful life of obedience and faith. And she would never see Cillian Doherty again.
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Clinking silverware and the swirling winds of the blizzard outside the windows were the only sounds in the dining room at Henry Weston’s birthday dinner.
Victoria forced down one more swallow of her barely touched pappardelle.
Robert, sitting kitty-corner to her position at the foot of the table, gave her a tiny, sympathetic smile.
“The pappardelle and bruschetta are really great, Vicki.” Hank’s compliment drew her gaze down the table to where he sat at their father’s right, opposite Treese. “You always make the best I’ve ever had.” His smile, though bigger, was just as inhibited as Robert’s.
“Except for mom’s.” Treese leaned past Spring and Torin to see Victoria. “But yours is second.”
“I know mine can’t compare with hers. You’re right.” Victoria’s attention returned to her father.
