Chapter 8 #3
He’d already been grinning, but it morphed into a gentler smile, one that had her heart swelling. “So am I. One, two—good night, sunshine—three.”
They disconnected, and Vivian sank down deeper into the pillows. The bedroom felt strangely quiet. Not necessarily lonely. Just…different.
She set her phone on the nightstand, turned off the lamp, and slipped beneath the covers.
For years, she’d tried to fill the empty spaces in this house. She’d lost Phil’s laughter, his footsteps, his voice, so she compensated with routines, work, Pip, Victor, and Belle, until she was able to convince herself she’d stuffed every inch.
She hadn’t, but she didn’t realize that until this moment.
Because somehow, Dean had found a huge, unused space.
And he’d filled it for her.
A soft knock came barely half an hour later, just as Vivian was about to drift off to sleep.
“Mommy?”
Vivian’s eyes blinked open in the darkness. The digital clock on her nightstand glowed 12:07. Her door creaked open just enough to see a tiny silhouette peeking through.
“Pip?”
“I had an accident.” Pip’s voice was so small that Vivian was already throwing back the covers before she finished the sentence. While it didn’t happen often, Pip did occasionally wet the bed, and her little girl hated it.
“Oh, sweetheart.” She reached for the lamp, bathing the room in a soft amber glow. She sat on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress next to her. “Come here.”
“I waked up and the bed was wet.” Pip shuffled into the room, clutching the hem of her pajama top. She must have shed the wet bottoms before venturing to Vivian’s room.
Vivian wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
Vivian cupped Pip’s cheek. “I know you didn’t.” She walked over to the pile of laundry she’d folded earlier but hadn’t bothered to put away yet. She grabbed a clean pair of pajamas for Pip. “Put these on, and you can sleep with me tonight.”
“What about my bed?”
“It’ll be okay. We bought that mattress pad at Target the last time we were there, remember? We’ll strip the sheets in the morning and toss them in the washing machine.”
A few minutes later, Pip crawled into Vivian’s bed, smelling faintly of fabric softener. “Are you mad?”
Vivian shook her head as she tucked the comforter around her daughter and brushed a curl away from her forehead. “Absolutely not.”
As Vivian settled back into the bed, she switched off the lamp before lying on her side to face Pip.
“You’re a deep sleeper, Pip,” Vivian explained. “You get that from your father.”
Pip smiled drowsily. She loved it when Vivian told her about all the ways she was like Phil. “Did he pee the bed too?”
Vivian laughed softly. “When he was your age? Probably. I swear that man could sleep through anything. One time, when we were first married and living in a tiny apartment in the city, there was a really loud car crash right outside our window. Police cars, firetrucks, and an ambulance all showed up, sirens blaring, lights flashing. I lost two hours of sleep that night, but your dad slept through the whole thing. Never heard or saw any of it.”
Pip giggled through a yawn, her eyes growing heavy.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a sound sleeper,” Vivian continued quietly. “In fact, count yourself lucky. That’s a wonderful skill to have.”
Pip pressed her warm little body against Vivian’s side. “I love you, Mommy.”
“Love you too,” Vivian said, placing a soft kiss on the top of Pip’s head. Within seconds, the little girl’s breathing evened out, one hand fisted in the sleeve of Vivian’s sleep shirt.
Vivian lay awake, staring into the darkness.
For nearly five years, it had just been her and Pip and Belle, and the three of them had established a routine, found a rhythm that worked for them.
Saturday morning pancakes, movie nights curled under the same blanket, even midnight wet bed-sheet changes.
All the tiny moments that had slowly stitched their lives together after losing Phil.
Then Belle moved in with Victor, and she and Pip rearranged patterns, built something new. It hadn’t been all sunshine and roses, hadn’t been perfect, but it had been theirs.
Now, Vivian found herself wondering if there was room for someone else in this life she’d created with Pip. Not just around the edges—like where she’d relegated Dean these past few weeks—but truly in it.
These quiet, ordinary moments had belonged to only her for so long. Could she share them with someone else?
Dean already seemed to slip into the spaces so effortlessly, as though he’d always belonged there. The thought should scare her. Instead, what scared her was how much she wanted him there.
Could Dean fit into the life she’d built with Pip?
More importantly, should she even try to make him fit?
She didn’t know.
Three weeks wasn’t long enough to answer a question that big. But as Pip sighed in her sleep and instinctively snuggled closer, Vivian couldn’t deny one simple truth.
For the first time since Phil died, picturing a future that held more than just her and Pip no longer felt like a betrayal.
It felt like hope.