Chapter 114
#Chapter 114 – Alone on our own
I few dayster, I sit in my closet, my fingers buried in my hair as I stare at the rotary phone on the
floor.
It’s been an incredibly busy couple of days, the first of the new year. The boys have started with their
new tutor, I’ve been reconnecting with clients after the holidays, and, generally, just trying to get life to
normal after theplete blow out of thest two weeks.
But behind it all, creeping up on me, staring over my shoulder, is the knowledge that for the first since
we’ve met…Victor and I are both single.
We haven’t even really had a moment to sit alone with each other in the past few days – Victor,
likewise, is caught up with his Beta project, as well as developing the school, but in the times when
we’ve met together to talk about what’s best for the boys…
I feel…
Just, a tension between us. This unspoken knowledge that, now, there’s nothing holding us back. But
perhaps…perhaps I wanted something to hold me back? I don’t know.
And then, there’s Edgar. As I stare at the wall in my closet, I allow myself, finally, to consider my
feelings about my breakup.
In the past few days I’ve done precisely what I advise my clients not to do: I’ve avoided the issue. I’ve
ignored my thoughts of him, pressed down my feelings, stayed busy, made sure I was so exhausted at
night that I didn’t have time to let my thoughts drift in Edgar’s direction before I fell asleep.
But here, now? All I have is time as I wait for the phone to ring.
Edgar. I frown, thinking of him, of his handsome face, his soft ck curls. He was, in so many ways,
the perfect man for me – precisely what I had been looking for. Strong, steady. Good in bed. I blush a
little, thinking of it.
But, inexorably, unfairly, my thoughts turn to Victor – as they always do. It was always doomed with
Edgar, I think, with Victor living next door. And in my heart, I know it’s true – hell, even Edgar knew it
was true.
But in another time, another ce. Would it have worked?
I wonder, then, what would have happened if instead of breaking up with me, Edgar had burst into the
house and swept me away with him. Told me to pack my bags, pack my kids, that we were
disappearing, that we were going to build a new life away from all of this.
Away from pack politics, away from all this Alpha bullshit. I could have given my boys the life I dreamed
for them – the one where they got to choose their futures. Maybe Edgar would have taken us deep into
the mountains, to live in a cabin. Or the desert, where we could live in a yurt under the desert sky.
But then, I realize, with rather a sudden shock, that of course Edgar didn’t do that.
He didn’t fight for me. He didn’te in, teeth bared, ready to fight Victor for me, ready to take me
away, desperate to lose me. Instead, he came to my house and bowed out, leaving nothing behind but
that cryptic note.
I feel, very suddenly, very awful. What was wrong with me, then?
Why was it that I feel myself torn between these two men, and neither are fighting to be with me? Victor
chose Amelia, he was going to marry her if she hadn’t locked my sons in that cupboard –
And Edgar – Edgar didn’t choose me either. He chose independence instead.
When would anyone choose me? Or…
It hits me like a brick, then. The strong possibility that no one ever would.
I jump, snapping out of my reverie, as the phone begins ringing. I stare at it, despite the noise echoing
in my closet.
It’s wrong, now. Undeniably wrong, to answer that phone, to continue to be Victor’s therapist. The
power that I originally sought in taking on this fa?ade is no longer at stake. When the original threat had
passed, I told myself I was doing it to keep an eye on Amelia. That threat, too, is gone.
So why keep going? Why am I sitting here, why haven’t I cancelled the sessions through the agency,
told them I’m too busy?
The phone continues to ring.
God damnit, I’m a selfish woman.
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I grab the receiver and bring it up to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hello,” I hear Victor’s voice on the other end. As always, it’s a mechanized voice, a robot, but I could
tell, now – after all these months – it was him, just by the cadence behind it. “Are you busy? It took you
awhile toe to the phone today.”
“Apologies,” I say, leaning back against my closet wall. “Just a momentary distraction. I hope you’ll
forgive me.”
“Quite all right.”
“So,” I say, a little awkward. “How…have you been?”
“I’ve been okay,” he says, thoughtful. I wonder where he’s sitting now – where it is that he takes these
calls. Probably at his desk, of course, but I can’t help but imagine himying in his bed. His warm
tanned skin against the cool white cotton of the sheets…
I blink and shake my head, snapping myself out of it. “Thest time we talked,” I say, “we discussed
your family’s attempt to take over power from you. How is that progressing?”
I’m surprised to hear that his answer is fairly light. “I’m actually feeling much better about that,” he says.
“Really?” I ask. “What progressed to make that happen?”
“Someone…someone stepped in,” he says, hesitating. I’m curious – who could he have been talking
about? Did Annabeth make some sort of connection to help him?
“Can you tell me any more?” I ask, deeply curious.
“The mother of my children,” he says, and I feel so surprised that shock tingles in my fingers. What?
“She stepped forward,” he continues, “really came to my aid when I needed her quite badly.”
“That is wonderful to hear,” I murmur, ufortable to be discussing myself. I’ve got to get us off this
topic. “Tell me more about your future ns for your pack.”
“Well,” he says, hesitating. “I’d actually rather talk to you about her.”
I grit my teeth, frustrated at my inability to steer him otherwise. “Of course,” I say.
“I was hoping you could give me some advice on my next steps,” he says. “Myst rtionship only
ended about a week ago, which makes things a little awkward but…”
He fades off here and I feel my stomach drop like a stone as I wait, breathless, for his next words.
“I’m having some very real feelings for this woman. I think that…I think that there’s something very real
there, something…big. I can’t exin it. But I think that she’s the Luna I want, the one that I’m actually
meant to be with. And I have absolutely no idea how to proceed with…courting her?” Heughs a little,
a self-deprecating sound. “Does that make any sense?”
My breathes quick, and I can hear myself panting into the phone.
My mind is almost nk with panic. s**t, s**t. How on earth am I supposed to advise him on this? Tell
him how to court me?
But underneath it all, all of these frantic thoughts, my intuition is screaming at me: wrong. Wrong.
Wrong!
This is wrong. I know that it’s wrong.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I have to end this call, this rtionship. I’m so sorry, I can’t be your therapist
anymore.”
With that, I m the receiver down and shove the phone away from me. I stare at it for a long while,
willing my breath to slow. Then, I lean forward and unplug it from the wall, so it can’t ring again.
“Okay.” I say to myself, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs to get the sweat off of them. “It’s
done, it’s over. No harm done. The agency will set him up with someone else. Someone who can
actually help him.”
Decided, I stand up and pull an old nket down from a shelf above my head. I carefully drape it over
the phone. I’ll have the agencye and pick it up in a few days but, until then, this will do.
I leave my closet then, closing the door carefully behind me, and then leaning back against it.
Despite myself, my thoughts drift back to what he said.
Victor says he wants me. Really wants me, wants to…wants me to be his Luna. Maybe even wants to
marry me.
I bite my lip, considering. Could he really mean it?
Could I ever get over the fact that less than a week ago, he picked Amelia over me?
And what, really, is it that I want?