Page 43 of Barging In

But then a little voice crept into the back of her mind, unwelcome but quiet and insistent.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Regardless of how good it felt or how much she wanted it, she couldn’t silence the voice.

She was married. She’d given in. She was weak.

Nothing but weak. This isn’t you; you have rules.

She took a step back.

“Are you okay?” Clem asked, eyes full of concern as Victoria stepped away from her.

“I can’t believe I did that. I’m no better than him now, am I?” Victoria said, pacing the room.

“What? Hardly! It was only a kiss.”

“It wasn’t, though, was it?” Victoria said, striking her fist against her heart.

“No,” Clem murmured. “But it’s not like we’ve slept together or anything.”

Victoria stopped pacing and approached her. “But I want to, Clem. That’s the point. I want you, and that makes me just like him.”

“You are nothing like him,” Clem urged, placing her hands gently on Victoria’s upper arms.

Victoria brushed her off. “I broke my own rules.”

“Rules? For yourself?”

Victoria began pacing again. “Yes. To not be like him. I promised myself I would never break my vow. It didn’t matter what he did, that was his choice, but I made a vow, and I was sticking to it.”

“But he forfeited his right to that vow,” Clem said, trying to follow her. “You made that promise to a different man, someone you thought loved you beyond everything else. He’s not that man anymore. He doesn’t deserve you or your fidelity.”

Victoria turned so fast that Clem had to pull back. “And you do? ”

Clem took a moment to reclaim her footing. “That’s not the point, Victoria,” she murmured softly in response. “I don’t want to complicate things.”

“It’s a bit late for that,” Victoria snapped. “It’s all you’ve done since you got here.”

“I meant that you need to make decisions for yourself, not because of feelings you might have for me.”

Might have? Victoria was drowning in them.

“I should go,” Clem said. “But before I do, can I ask you something?”

Victoria nodded silently.

“Why did you cry at the flowers?”

Victoria blew out a breath. Trust Clem to notice that. “I like flowers,” she demurred.

Clem scoffed.

Victoria took a breath, realising it wasn’t going to be enough.

“I like being given flowers. I liked it when you gave them to me. It means someone cares enough to think of me, to choose something beautiful for me. When someone stops buying you flowers, you notice. You stop feeling cared for. Wanted. That’s what they mean to me: that I matter to someone. That I’m not… invisible.”

“You matter to me ,” Clem said softly. “I told you before: I see you. All of you. You’re intelligent, kind, resilient, loyal… and so very bewitching.”

Clem leaned toward her unexpectedly. Victoria thought she was going to kiss her again. She tensed, ready to step back, but Clem pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you for dinner,” she murmured.

Victoria had to summon every ounce of strength not to pull her in. Not to feel her warm, eager lips on hers again. Her heart ached for it, urged her forward, but her brain dug in its heels.

Clem walked over to the window, slipping on her shoes and picking up her book. She paused, looking out over the garden.

“It’s such a beautiful view from here,” she said quietly.

“You’ve designed something extraordinary.

Again. You always seem to curate the most beautiful things.

I hope you find it within you to be as brave for yourself as you are for your work.

I believe in you; you should, too.” Clem turned, her expression pained. “Night, Victoria. I’ll see myself out.”

Then she was gone.

Victoria ran her tongue over her lips, searching for any lingering trace of Clem, a scent or a taste to connect her back to that kiss.

She crossed her arms and grabbed her biceps, holding herself tightly.

It had been too long since someone had held her like that, embraced her so fully, like she mattered.

No, actually. No one had ever done that.

Now she knew what it felt like to kiss Clem, and she wanted more — so much more.

She wanted everything with her, a life she once dreamed of and thought she had.

Holding hands on long walks, lazy mornings in bed, sharing meals and discussing the day over a glass of wine.

The thought of it all made her insides flutter with excitement.

Then the truth hit her like a slap.

It wasn’t possible.

Or was it? Did she want it enough to tear her life apart?

With a sigh, she poured the last of the wine into her glass and slumped into her favourite chair by the window.

Clem’s scent still clung to the fabric, filling her nose and stirring everything back up again.

If she wanted Clem, really wanted her, she’d have to risk it all. She’d have to divorce Drew.

Her eyes welled again. She reached for a tissue from the side table, dabbing it against her cheeks. How tragically on-brand it was to be crying into her wine. At least it was something she was well practised at.

Movement caught her eye in the neighbouring garden. Clem was heading down to the jetty, her figure framed against the dying light. Victoria took a large swig of wine, hoping it would douse the feelings inside that were warm, insistent, and terrifying as hell.