Page 55 of The Leaving Kind
“Our children.”
“Yes, dear.”
They shared a laugh. Then, leaning back in her chair, Tez folded her arms. “How’s work, then?”
“Ugh, can we talk about you?”
“We can most definitely talk about me.” Tez pulled a purse the size of a suitcase onto the table and rummaged through it until she found her phone, which she produced with an “Aha!” A moment later, she thrust the screen at him, and Victor was confronted with a shoulders-up photo of a lovely woman with creamy skin, auburn curls, and a cheeky smile. The lines about her eyes and mouth indicated her age, which would be in their neighborhood. She obviously took better care of herself than he did, though.
Victor glanced up at Tez and feigned being blinded by her glow. With a hand in front of his eyes, he said, “Have you been on a date, yet?”
“No.” Tez was now mooning over the photo. “We’re still chatting. But we’re chatting well, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“We’re already getting deep and meaningful.”
Victor squashed the urge to be anything but excited for her. They’d both had such poor luck in love. Maybe this time it would work out for the woman he loved not-like-a-sister-because-that-would-be-weird. But loved all the same. He gripped the hand she had resting on the table. “Thinking good thoughts for you.”
The server returned with their drinks and they ordered lunch. An appetizer to share, though they’d both complain about how much they’d eaten later, stuffed ravioli for Tez and a hearty eggplant parmigiana for Victor, half of which he planned to take home for dinner. Whether that happened would depend on how distracted they got. He had a terrible habit of overeating with Tez.
“Thank you.” Tez handed their menus to the server and turned to Victor. “Now, what about you? Are you back out there yet?”
“Dear lord, no. It’s only been, what, three weeks?”
“But you were over Tholo months ago.”
“In my mind, yes. But perhaps not my heart. Or maybe it was the other way around.” Victor probed his feelings—in particular whether or not he wanted to start dating again—and discovered only weariness and a desire to invite a certain person over for several rounds of rejuvenating sex. Huh. Not that his desire to sleep with Cam was a surprise. That he could consider doing so without planning the rest of their relationship was, however.
Perhaps Cam had been wrong.
But when Victor slotted Cam into the role of a rebound remedy, his newfound aversion to attachment fell apart. Sex would only be the beginning, and Victor most definitely was not ready to start anything.
“Earth to Victor.” Tez tapped the back of his hand.
“Sorry, I apparently had a little thinking to do.”
“About whom?”
“How do you know it wasn’t a what?”
“Because you look like Dexter does when you let him drink the milk out of your cereal bowl. If you’d started licking your lips, I was going to have to smack you.”
Victor chuckled. “No, I was thinking about ...” He bit his lip. Should he tell Tez about Cam? If he did, he’d have to update her on the full story as it unfolded.
“Who is he and where did you meet him?” Tez asked.
Letting out a sigh, Victor pulled out his phone. “He’s ... Don’t laugh, okay? Not a single wicked chuckle.”
Tez used her hands to squash her cheeks inward.
“Stop that.”
She grinned.
Victor scrolled to one of the detailed sketches he’d started, using the studies from Cam’s session and the few photos he’d snapped before they finished. Although terribly out of practice when it came to faces—to people, to detail—he liked the way this piece was shaping up. Of course, he had absolutely no idea what he’d do with it. Whether he’d attempt to paint Cam or confine his interest to a series of drawings.
He showed the picture to Tez and watched as her smile narrowed and disappeared.