Page 28 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
Victor rises to answer, moving a few steps away. "Aaron," he says, his voice carrying carefully modulated concern. "How are you feeling?"
I can't hear the other side of the conversation, but I watch Victor's face as he listens. His expression grows increasingly troubled, and when he glances at me, it’s with calculation.
"I understand," Victor says finally. "No, don't worry about disappointing anyone. Take all the time you need... Yes, I'll explain to Kyra... Take care of yourself." He ends the call and stands silent for a moment, his back to me, before turning with an expression I can't quite read.
"What did he say?" I ask, my academic dreams momentarily forgotten as I focus on the original reason for my presence here.
"He's still not ready," Victor says, returning to sit beside me. "The time away has given him perspective, and he realizes he needs more space to figure out what he wants. He asked me to tell you he appreciates your willingness to wait, but he doesn't want to give you false hope."
The news hits hard. Despite the growing realization over the past few days that Aaron and I might truly be over, I'd still been clinging to the hope of reconciliation. It was, after all, the entire reason I came to this cabin.
"He's not coming," I say quietly, the finality of it settling over me like a physical weight.
"No. He's not coming." Victor watches my face carefully. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know this isn't what you hoped for."
The endearment catches me off guard—it sounds intimate, personal, not the way a professional mentor would address a protégée. It creates a momentary crack in my academic patronage theory.
I swallow hard, fighting the threat of tears. "Did he say why? I mean, specifically?"
Victor hesitates, seeming to choose his words carefully. "He said he's realized that your paths are heading in different directions. That he can't give you what you need."
The echo of my own thoughts about Aaron is unsettling. Had I always known this relationship was doomed? Had everyone seen it but me?
I move to the window, watching the snow now falling in earnest. The flakes are thick and heavy, accumulating rapidly on the already snow-covered ground.
"I should get back to Boulder," I say, more to myself than to Victor. "There's no point in staying now."
Victor joins me at the window, his reflection appearing beside mine in the darkened glass. "Look at that storm, Kyra. No one should be driving in those conditions, especially on mountain roads. Besides, we're already here, with everything we need."
I glance at him, catching a strange intensity in his expression before he masks it with concern.
"The university and your apartment situation will still be there in a few days," he continues. "Why rush back to problems you can't immediately solve when you have this time to think, to research, to plan your next steps?"
I have three options: Confront Victor with my suspicions, and demand to speak to Aaron directly. Make excuses to leave the cabin immediately, find my own way back to civilization. Or play along, pretend to accept this development, and gather more information.
Option one would alert Victor that I don't trust him, closing any avenue to learn more about his true intentions. Option two is impractical given the weather, the isolation, and my lack of resources.
Which leaves option three.
"I suppose I should have expected this," I say, allowing genuine disappointment to color my voice. "Aaron never was good at difficult conversations."
Victor's expression softens with relief. "No, he wasn't. Even as a child, he avoided conflict whenever possible."
"Unlike his father?" I venture, watching for his reaction.
A smile that's almost predatory crosses his face. "I've never believed in avoiding necessary confrontations."
"Thank you, Victor." I stand, needing physical distance to clear my head. "I think I'll turn in early tonight. It's been... an emotional day."
He rises as well, respecting my implied boundary. "Of course. Sleep well, Kyra."
As I climb the stairs to my room, I can feel his eyes following me. Once inside, I close the door and lean against it, mortified by my own behavior.
What is wrong with me? Victor is offering professional mentorship—a life-changing academic opportunity—and I'm responding with some kind of inappropriate crush? It's embarrassing. Pathetic. The last thing I want is for him to think I'm misinterpreting his professional interest as something romantic or sexual.
What if he noticed? What if my lingering glances, my flushed cheeks, my awkward responses gave away my confused feelings? Would he withdraw his offer of support, disgusted by my unprofessional reaction? Would he think I'm trying to use my feminine wiles to advance my career?
The very thought makes me cringe. I'm a scientist, for god's sake. I should be able to control my hormonal responses to an attractive older man who's only trying to help me.
