Chapter 5 Vivienne #2
We finished lunch with Melissa dominating the conversation, as usual. She paid the check as promised, but I noticed she left a mediocre tip that made me surreptitiously slide an extra five under my coffee cup.
As we parted ways in the parking lot, Melissa grabbed my arm. "I'm glad we did this, Viv. I know I screwed up Saturday, but I've missed you."
"I've missed you too," I said, and meant it despite everything.
The drive back to school gave me time to think about the upcoming weekend. As much as I’d love wearing one of Julian Thorne’s creations, I was starting to overthink everything that had happened over the course of an unexpected evening.
My phone rang as I pulled into the school parking lot. Dad's number flashed on the screen.
"Hey, Daddy."
"There's my girl. How's my favorite teacher?"
The familiar gruffness of my father's voice instantly improved my mood. "I'm good. Just got back from lunch with Melissa, remember her from college?"
"The wild one? How's she doing?"
"Still wild." We chatted easily about my week, my students, and the weather. My father had retired from his job at the paper mill two years ago and seemed to genuinely enjoy having time to call his daughter in the middle of the day.
"Hold on, honey, your mom wants to talk to you."
"Vivi?" My mother's voice came on the line, warm but with that underlying tone that meant she had an agenda. "Sweetie, I ran into Carol Heathrow at the grocery store yesterday, and she mentioned that her son Danny just got divorced."
"Mom—"
"Now I know what you're going to say, but hear me out. You remember Danny, don't you? You two dated senior year of high school. He's doing very well for himself now—has his own accounting firm, just bought a house with a big backyard..."
I closed my eyes and leaned back against my car seat. "Mom, I'm not interested in dating Danny Heathrow."
“Well what about Steve Jeffords? He’s moved back and is taking care of his parents. They did have him later in life, so he’s helping them fix up the house, I’ve seen him out there mowing the lawn without a shirt, and he’s quite handsome.”
“Ugh, Steve Jeffords, he’s been married like five times already, do you really want me with someone who’s that fickle?”
“Well, no, I guess not, dear. Oh, what about Harvey Middleton? He always had such a nice strong jaw, and his parents want grandchildren as much as we do!”
“Mom, I’m not dating anyone right now, especially someone who used to pull my hair during school.”
"But sweetheart, you're not getting any younger. Your father and I just want to see you settled down and happy. We'd love some grandchildren while we're still young enough to enjoy them."
The conversation continued for another ten minutes, my mother's well-meaning but persistent matchmaking attempts wearing down my patience. I finally managed to redirect the conversation to my parents' upcoming anniversary, but even after we hung up, the word ‘marriage’ seemed to echo in my mind.
Marriage. Settling down. A house with a big backyard and hypothetical children running around.
I found myself thinking about Julian—the way he'd looked at me that morning, the care he'd taken with breakfast, the text about making my eyes extraordinary. What was he looking for? A relationship? Or just someone new to dress up and take to fancy events?
My phone buzzed again.
Julian: Silk or chiffon?
Vivienne: Whatever you think is best. I trust your judgment.
Julian: That trust means more than you know. See you tonight.
I stared at the phone, heart doing that fluttering thing again. Whatever this was between us, it felt significant. Dangerous, maybe, but significant.
I was walking toward the school building, still lost in thought, when I heard my name called.
"Vivienne! There you are."
I looked up to see Lydia Ortiz, a math teacher and one of my closest friends at work, hurrying toward me across the parking lot. Lydia was in her early thirties, sharp and funny, with a direct personality that made her popular with students and colleagues alike.
"Hey, Lydia. What's up?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing." Lydia fell into step beside me as we headed toward the building. "You've been glowing all morning. And I just saw you grinning at your phone like a maniac. Spill."
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uh-huh. Come on, Viv. Something's different about you today. You have that post-weekend glow that says you had a much better time than the rest of us grading papers and doing laundry."
We paused outside the main entrance, students streaming around us as the afternoon shift began. I looked at my friend's expectant face and felt the sudden urge to tell someone about Julian, about the way my world had tilted off its axis Saturday night.
But how could I explain that I'd met a man who was everything I'd never thought I wanted, and that I was terrified of how much I already cared for a man who lived in an entirely different world than me?
"I might have met someone," I said finally.
Lydia's eyes lit up. "I knew it! Details. Now."
"It's complicated."
"The best ones always are. Come on, we have fifteen minutes before our next period starts. Coffee and confessions in the teacher's lounge?"
I looked at my friend, at the genuine interest in her expression, and felt some of the tension in my chest ease. Maybe I did need to talk to someone about this. Someone who wasn't Melissa, someone who would actually listen and could give sound advice.
"Coffee sounds perfect," I said, and followed Lydia into the building, Julian's texts still warm in my pocket like a secret I was ready to share.