Chapter 1 #2
“It really has.” There were faint shadows beneath her eyes that showed just how exhausted she was. Yet she still managed to seem fully present and focused on their conversation and everything happening around them.
He’d noticed that same attribute in her when she was eighteen. She had been mature beyond her years. Even as a teen, Vivian had her shit together, while he—in his early thirties at the time—had been a floundering mess.
His phone buzzed, so he pulled it out of his pocket.
Got you the last room at the Harbor Crest Hotel. Shuttle overwhelmed. Ride-share if you can. Still working on flight rebooking.
Relief loosened something in his chest and he looked up.
“Good news?” she asked.
“I got a room. Apparently the last one at the Harbor Crest.”
She smiled, but disappointment flashed across her face before she hid it. “You’re lucky. I checked with eight hotels but they were all booked, so I was just about to buy an overpriced blanket at an airport shop and find a corner.”
Dean frowned. “You’re going to sleep here?”
“I don’t see any alternative. I overheard someone saying that with so many canceled flights, all the hotels are at capacity.”
He looked at her, then at the overflowing terminal. Victor would kick his ass into the next century if he let Vivian sleep in the airport while he was cozy in a hotel.
Although…
Suddenly, he was left trying to figure out which would piss Victor off more. Dean leaving her to her own devices in the airport…or the two of them sharing a hotel room.
Then he decided it wasn’t Victor’s feelings about this situation that mattered. It was his. Because there was no way in hell he was leaving Vivian here alone.
“If we’re lucky, I might have two beds.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And if we’re not?”
“I’ll ask for a rollaway,” he replied. Vivian didn’t seem to understand. He wasn’t leaving her here alone, no matter what.
She crossed her arms. “And if they don’t have one?”
“I’ll take the couch,” he retorted smoothly.
She gave him a mischievous smile, and he realized she was pulling his leg.
“You’re assuming there will be a couch,” she said. “Not all hotel rooms have one.”
“Then I’ll sleep in the desk chair or on the floor,” he persisted.
Vivian shook her head, her smile fading, her exhaustion suddenly more prevalent. “Dean, you really don’t have to—”
“Vivian, you’re coming with me, because there’s no way I’m leaving you here to sleep on an airport floor.” When he realized his tone was a little too demanding and forceful, he aimed for a quick recovery. “Victor would kill me if I did that.”
She didn’t debate that fact. They both knew he was right.
“I appreciate the offer, and truly, if there’s no couch, rollaway, or chair, I’ll take the floor. Since I was planning to do that here anyway.”
Hell would freeze over before he let her sleep on a hotel floor, but they could have that debate later, once they got out of this godforsaken airport.
“So… Roommates for a night?” he asked, as he bent down to grasp the handles of both their carry-on bags.
“Temporary refugees,” she corrected.
“That sounds much more dramatic. I like it.”
“We are facing down a coming storm,” she reminded him.
The hurricane was currently battering the Maryland coastline, but it was steadily creeping its way north. Forecasters predicted that by the time it reached them, it would be downgraded to a tropical storm, so…silver linings and all that shit.
Vivian turned, leading the way toward the exit. Pulling out her phone, she clicked the screen. “Should I order a ride-share for us?”
He nodded, and for the first time since the departures board turned red, Dean’s stress lifted. Maybe tomorrow would still be a mess. But at least tonight, neither of them would be facing it alone.
The ride-share crawled through rain-slicked Boston streets, windshield wipers fighting a losing battle against the steady downpour. Dean hated to think what the actual storm would look like when it arrived if this was just the prequel.
Traffic was thick with stranded travelers, as well as locals fighting through the end of rush hour, everyone trying to reach someplace warm and dry. Neither of them talked much during the ride. After a day of canceled flights and endless waiting, comfortable silence seemed easier than conversation.
The Harbor Crest’s lobby looked almost as chaotic as the airport. Guests crowded around the front desk while soaked suitcases dripped on the polished marble floor. Someone’s toddler cried as another family argued over room keys.
Dean checked them in, accepting the two keycards with a grateful nod before walking back toward Vivian. She was hovering outside the hotel restaurant, looking at the menu posted on the door, her expression so hungry that he almost laughed.
“You want to know if we got two beds before we go up, or do you want to be surprised?” He was trying to make a joke, hoping to lighten the moment before he had to break the news that they’d been given a king-sized bed…with no couch and no rollaway options.
Her stomach answered for her with an audible growl, and Vivian pressed a hand against it. “I vote for food first. Then I’ll be much better prepared for whatever surprise greets me in the room.”
He laughed. “Surprise it is, then. When was your last meal?”
“If you count a granola bar I packed in my purse as breakfast, that was the last meal. I meant to grab something at the airport, but I never had a chance, thanks to waiting in lines and hustling between terminals.”
“I had a piece of toast at my aunt’s house around nine.
She lives about an hour and a half outside of the city.
I hit some nasty traffic on the way to the airport, and by the time I returned the rental car, I was cutting it close on boarding.
Not that it mattered. They canceled the flight shortly after I arrived, which was when I hopped in that eternal line.
” He checked his watch. “Jesus. It’s seven-thirty. ”
“No wonder I’m about to start chewing on the luggage,” she joked.
Dean grinned. “I’m not far behind you.” He gestured at the menu she’d just been looking at. “You good with eating here, or should we order in something from delivery?”
The scent of grilled steak, roasted garlic, and fresh bread hit them both at the same time, making the decision an easy one.
“Let’s have mercy on the delivery guys. Here is just fine.”
He gestured to the entrance, following her to the hostess stand. A few minutes later, they were seated in a quiet corner booth, their carry-on bags parked beside the table like loyal traveling companions.
Dean barely looked at the menu. “I could probably eat two entrées all by myself.”
Vivian smiled. “I was thinking the exact same thing. I’m starving and it all looks so good.”
Dean winked when he realized she was already perusing the last page of the menu. “I won’t judge if you order dessert first.”
She laughed. “I appreciate your support, but I’m not worried about running out of room. Tonight, I’m definitely having dessert.”
Their drinks arrived almost immediately, and Dean took a long swallow of his ice-cold beer before letting out a satisfied sigh. “That might be the best thing I’ve had all day.”
Vivian lifted her glass of Merlot, offering a silent toast before taking a drink. “I concur. A nice glass of wine after a stressful day is like manna from Heaven.”
“To mother’s milk,” he said, tapping his pint of beer against her wineglass.
She laughed. It was a very genuine sound, one he didn’t hear from her very often. Not that Vivian was somber or too serious or anything like that. When he considered the shit she’d gone through in her lifetime, it was no wonder the laughs came few and far between.
The first time he met Vivian, she’d been spending her first holiday alone with Victor in Baltimore, following the deaths of their parents, who’d been killed by a drunk driver.
While she’d impressed him with her life plan that night in the pub, there had been no missing the sadness that lingered behind her dark eyes.
He’d seen shades of that same sadness over the past year as well, though he suspected those shadows were caused by the untimely passing of her husband. When Dean thought of all the loss Vivian had suffered for someone so young, he found himself humbled by her strength.
While they waited for dinner, conversation settled into an easy rhythm.
“You know,” Dean said, leaning back against the booth, “back when you were younger, I remember thinking Victor was going to tackle anyone who even looked in your direction.”
Vivian laughed. “Oh, I think we both know he totally would have.”
“He practically inserted himself between you and every guy at that table that night at the pub over the holidays,” he teased.
Vivian tilted his head. “He wasn’t subtle, but let’s face it, he rarely is. If you recall, he parked you on the other side of me.”
Dean smiled at the memory. “Probably because he knew I wouldn’t make a move on you. You hadn’t even been out of high school a full year. Hell, I probably would have held down any guy who tried to put the moves on you for Vic.”
“I have to admit, I was stupidly excited the first time he let me go out with him and the team. Until he plopped me down between the two of you.”
Dean chuckled at her disgruntled tone. “That bad?”
Vivian pierced him with a look. “You asked me how school was going and if I was studying hard, like you were some long-lost great-uncle. Then you asked what I was majoring in. We talked for all of five minutes before some curvy blonde claimed the seat on your other side. After that, I spent the rest of the night looking at the back of your head as Victor stood freaking sentry, as if he were guarding the Crown Jewels.”
Dean winced. “Ouch. Sorry about that.”
Vivian waved off his apology. “Oh, don’t apologize. It was interesting watching you work.”
Suddenly, Dean realized the joke was on him. “Work?”
“You were laying on the charm pretty thick for that puck bunny, though God only knows why. Her giggle was high-pitched to the point of almost manic.”