102

The next morning, I heard the familiar sound of Victor's car pulling up downstairs. Panic set in, and I rushed to put everything back in its place. I moved the sofa and other things I had used to wedge the door shut. I didn't want Victor to think I was paranoid or, worse, losing my mind like Damon had hinted at when I lost my baby.

He walked in and immediately noticed my sweaty, disheveled appearance. I should have done something about it sooner. Stupid me.

He raised an eyebrow. “What were you up to? You look homeless,” he asked.

I tried to sound as casual as I could. "Just tidying up a bit. How was work?"

"Tiring," he replied with a weary sigh. "I just want to squish my head into your boobs right now.”

See, naughty.

We chatted briefly about his day as he headed to the bathroom to freshen up. I took the opportunity to microwave the leftover spaghetti and set the table. When he came out, I served him dinner, and he seemed to relax a bit.

After he finished eating, I offered to give him