Heart Like Mine A Novel - By Amy Hatvany Page 0,21
understand that kids weren’t part of yours. But I think we could find a way to balance things.” When I didn’t respond, he continued. “It’s not like you’d be their mother. That’s Kelli’s job.”
“What would my job be?” I asked in a quiet voice. This felt like a pivotal question, and I held my breath waiting for his answer.
“To be yourself, I hope. Maybe a positive role model for Ava, and a friend to Max, when they’re with us.” He took a breath. “I don’t actually know how it would all work, because I’ve never been in the situation before, but I think as long as we keep talking and stay honest with each other, we could figure it out. Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I think so.” I waited a moment before apologizing again. “I’m really, really sorry I lied to you. That’s not the kind of person I am. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Don’t worry. I get it. We just won’t make it a habit. Deal?”
“Deal.” I hesitated again, playing with the fringe on a pillow. “Do you still want to see me tonight?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a teasing edge. “Will you be naked?”
I laughed, feeling relieved. “Possibly. Are you going to feed me?”
“Absolutely. I’ll see you at seven.”
We began seeing each other almost every day, me coming over to his place more often than he came to mine, not because he didn’t like my condo but because my schedule was more flexible than his and I could miss rush-hour traffic over the West Seattle Bridge. He cooked me amazing meals, though he confessed that he was much better at managing a restaurant than being a chef.
“Are you kidding?” I said, trying to keep myself from licking the plate clean of a creamy lemon butter sauce he’d prepared and served over grilled chipotle-spiced halibut. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!”
“The best, huh?” he said with a sly, suggestive smile. “That’s unfortunate.” I laughed, and he continued. “I started working in restaurants as a line cook when I was a teenager, so I know my way around the kitchen. But I like what I do now more.”
“You like to be in charge, then,” I said, teasing him. “Control issues, maybe?”
“I prefer to think of it as teamwork-challenged,” he quipped, and I laughed again. I knew this was untrue—Victor ran a tight ship at the Loft, but the few times I waited at the bar for him to be done with his day, I saw how he interacted with his staff. He expected everyone to work hard, but he was always right there with them, ready to pitch in, covering for servers and dishwashers alike in a moment of need. I’d seen enough horrible bosses over the years to know that Victor was a great one.
He also turned out to be a really wonderful boyfriend. When I landed a huge corporate donation for Second Chances, he sent me the most beautiful arrangement of orchids I’d ever seen with a card that read: “You inspire me to be a better person.” He called when he said he would and lingered when it was time for us to part in the mornings. He made me feel important but didn’t smother me. He understood that I sometimes had to take midnight trips to the ER to help a client in crisis. He supported me when I struggled watching yet another woman go back to her abuser, feeling powerless to do anything to stop her. “All you can do is provide the resources,” he said. “Whether or not she chooses to use them is about her, not you.” I knew this already, of course, but it still helped to hear it from someone other than my own voice inside my head. I was usually the one issuing reassurances to my staff; having someone to do the same for me was new territory.
As we spent more time together, I began to feel better about his status as a father. I still had moments of apprehension, but I quieted them by reasoning that his kids were only with him a couple of weekends a month, so really, more times than not, Victor and I would be on our own. And it wasn’t like he was rushing me into meeting them; we both felt we should wait on that until we were more sure of each other. But by then, I was about as sure as I could get.