“It’s good to speak to you again,” Victor says the next evening, his voice metallic and mechanical through the old rotary phone.
“Yes,” I reply, twirling my fingers in the chord. “The agency let me know that you tried to contact me over the weekend. I apologize for being unavailable.”
“That’s all right,” he murmurs, dismissing it. “You are, of course, entitled to your life. You shouldn’t have to be on call for all of my emergencies.”
“But you have such interesting emergencies,” I say, laughing a little. Victor does the same.
I hesitated before taking this call. I know that I’ve got to end this charade soon – it’s so far beyond unethical, now, for me to be taking these calls. But still – I need to know where he stands after the whole wedding fiasco.
“How are you?” I ask, prompti
