#Chapter 78 – Late Night Chats

Two hours later, I pour Victor his fifth glass of whiskey.

“This has gotta be the last one, Evelyn,” he says, his words only slightly slurred. But his face is happy, a little pink from laughter and drink.

“Penultimate, at best,” I say, winking at him and making sure it’s an extra-generous pour.

“Enough!” he says, laughing and pulling his drink away so that just a little whiskey spills on the floor. “You’re trying to get me drunk, woman.”

“That is the name of the game,” I say, wrinkling my nose at him.

We’re still settled on the couch, long ago having carried the whiskey decanter, an extra bottle of wine, and some snacks over to the coffee table so that we don’t have to get up for refills. I’m wrapped in my favorite white knit blanket, curled up amongst the pillows, but Victor clearly feels no such need for warmth.

He’s seated casually, close to me, his one arm stretched along the back of the couch, the other holding his whiskey glass steady on his knee. His long body lounges, one of his legs stretched on the floor, the other tucked up beneath him. He’s smiling at me and I smile back, pleased to see him having some fun.

“When’s the last time you did something like this,” I say, taking another sip of wine.

“Like what?” he asks.

I shrug. “Like stayed up late, drinking, talking. Holding court in your own little secret pocket of the world, where nobody knows you’re here, where you can say anything you want and know that you’ll be heard.”

Victor shrugs and looks down at his glass. “I can’t remember,” he says, but I sense that he’s lying. “What about you?” he asks, meeting my gaze again.

“Me and Delia used to do it sometimes,” I say, smiling at the memory. “In graduate school, when the boys were really little. They’d go to bed and we’d share a bottle and talk about all the things we wanted to do with our lives. It was nice.”

I give him a little kick. “So tell me,” I say. “I know you were lying before when you said you don’t remember.”

looking at me seriously. “It was probably that night with you, six years ago. The last time

a little touched. I suppose I remember…other things, from that evening. But it’s true, we did stay up talking,

of something to say. “So,” I begin awkwardly. “You and Amelia, you guys

much everything, so it almost feels like…there’s not much to be said.”

lighten the mood. “Well, I’m pleased to be the one to usher you back into the tradition of the late-night drunk

the face and raises an eyebrow. “As I recall it, we didn’t do that much talking,

as my tongue. I laugh at him, blatantly. “We did too talk!” I say, kicking him again. “We talked about all sorts of things, in between…”

smiling, his voice low. “I

another sip of wine, studying him in the darkness, as he stares at his drink, in this secret

But I break it.

remember?” I ask, my voice

he takes a long swallow of whiskey. “I remember the way my mouth

mouth, enjoying the cool feeling of it against my lips. “Must have been thirsty. I remember you trying to get away from me, after we started dancing. Were you going for a glass of

water. I only wanted you.” He fastens my eyes with his own as

our breath matching. As he breathes in, I breathe in, so that we are almost as one, existing together.

and then down my glass of wine. Then, I declining to pay attention to the logical thoughts pounding in my head – he’s a mated man! He’s engaged! His

shoulders, , closing my eyes and slipping my body closer to him on the couch, draping my legs over his own, my shoulders now well within the curve of the

at this point – something primal, true, real – something that makes me want – need – to be close to him in this moment. “I wanted you too,” I

I can feel his tension and put a hand on his chest,

moment. Please, don’t say anything.

of the couch to rest lightly on my back. He relaxes and I feel him lean forward to breathe in the scent of my

yesterday,” I sigh, finally letting the memories of the past two days come back to me, finally feeling safe enough to face them. “Why was I able to break my

he says,

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