#Chapter 92 – Last Chance

“It was that bad, huh?” Victor says, taking in her determined face. He breathes out a tired sigh and settles down next to her, staring out into the kitchen garden. He’s surprised, a little, at how quickly he went from a frenzy of anxiety to complete calm.

Evelyn huffs a laugh. “Your dad and your brother, Victor,” she says, shaking her head. “They’re real pieces of work. How did you turn out so nice, with them in your lives?”

He shoots her a look from the side of his eye. “You think I’m nice?”

“Well,” she shrugs. “Comparatively. It’s at least been a couple of months since you’ve called me a w***e and suggested I was no better than my sons’ surrogate.”

Victor groans and puts a hand over his face. “God, don’t remind me. I’m so sorry, Evelyn.”

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “I don’t blame you, especially not now, seeing where you come from. At least you came around.”

“And you don’t think they can come around too?” Victor asks, still covering my face.

“I’m not sure,” she says, hesitating, “that it’s really worth the effort to try. They’re not my father-or brother-in-law, after all.”

The two sit quietly for a moment, taking in the peace of the rooftop garden. It’s a beautiful night, balmy and clear, shockingly warm for winter. Victor grimaces, thinking that he should be grateful that he got lucky weather for his wedding weekend, so rare in December. But he isn’t even thinking about his wedding.

“Are you okay?” Evelyn asks softly. Victor pauses for a moment, then slowly swings his head back and forth.

“I’m not really sure.”

“Talk to me,” she says, nudging him with her elbow.

know, I tried to call my therapist tonight. But she

then hesitates before saying, “did I know

life. Trying to figure out” he waves a hand in the air, “how to balance all of this, how to bring the boys in, how to

your therapist on the

of clarity these past couple of weeks.” He leans his head on the back of

says, laughing a little and perking

says, his brows

“We’ll sit back-to-back, you won’t even know it’s me. I promise, you

sits up and turns so that their backs face each other. He looks

what it is you wanted to talk to your therapist about,” she

confused,” he says, still staring skyward. “I just…hated tonight. I hated the rehearsal dinner, hated having to give fake smiles to all my

he’s saying and urging him to go on. He smiles, considering it’s precisely what his therapist would have done. Must

should have been a really happy night,” he continues, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. “I’m getting married tomorrow – it should have been…all about me and Amelia, the woman I love, being excited about our next

silent for a moment, but when he doesn’t continue she prompts him. “And you found you

voice rough with disappointment. “I guess I was distracted, because my sons weren’t there, and my family had hurt…my friend’s feelings so much. But the truth is, even if all that had gone away…I’m not sure I’d have been excited anyway. I don’t know if I’m blaming the bad night on my dad

she speaks.

moment, Victor doesn’t know which woman his therapist is

gone soft, almost breathless. Suddenly, he snaps back into reality,

a better match for yourself than your mate,” she says softly. “It’s written for you; you’d be

if she doesn’t want what I

the way that

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