Chapter 5 #2
While his confidence was on shaky ground, Dean still couldn’t stop himself from trying to comfort the mother as well as the daughter. “I’ve got her.”
Something in his voice must have reassured her, because she uncrossed her arms and nodded.
For the next half hour, the quiet cul-de-sac was filled with laughter and the occasional squeals of delight and/or fear as Pip rode around the large circle.
Victor owned the two plots of land on either side of the cul-de-sac, which meant there was no traffic on the dead-end street.
Dean jogged behind the bicycle, one hand on the seat and the other hovering near the handlebars, while Pip wobbled from side to side.
Once he felt safe doing so, he released the seat, jogging next to her, but not letting Pip know until she’d made it a good ten feet on her own.
“You’re doing it.”
“I am?!” she asked. Her shock and the knowledge he wasn’t holding on, caused her to panic, losing control.
Dean caught her and the bike before either hit the pavement.
They tried again, and each time, she grew steadier and braver. Her mother wasn’t faring quite as well, shrieking with fear every time Pip veered into the grass or looked in danger of wiping out.
Victor had settled on the porch steps, cheering every tiny victory as though Pip was competing in the Olympics, while Belle followed him and Pip, faithfully recording the entire lesson, promising to edit the footage when she was done so they’d have a great memory of the milestone.
She’d even started listing songs she wanted to use to accompany the video.
Apparently, her soundtrack was going to include Queen’s “Bicycle Race,” Melanie’s “Brand New Key, and some Latino song called “La Bicicleta” by Carlos Vives and Shakira that Belle swore was “her jam.”
Somewhere around the fiftieth attempt, it happened.
“Keep pedaling,” he called out, knowing Pip was ready for a solo run.
“Mommy!” she yelled to Vivian. “I’m doing it!”
“You are!” Vivian called back. Victor was clapping, and Belle, red cheeked from running after Pip, whooped loud enough to startle a pair of birds from a nearby tree.
Dean slowed to a walk, breathing hard. Jesus, this was a better workout than the gym. He smiled when Pip turned back toward him without the slightest wobble. She rode onto the driveway, toppling sideways in the grass with a dramatic oof. Then she popped up laughing.
“I did it, Coach Dee!”
“You did,” he said, his chest unexpectedly tight. He looked toward Vivian, who was already looking at him.
Her smile was bright enough to rival the setting sun when she mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
After that, they all moved to the backyard, where Dean helped Victor build the fire.
Victor insisted on making the first round of mountain pies himself, claiming, “Nobody respects the sacred ratio of butter to bread.”
Belle rolled her eyes. “It’s grilled cheese in a cast-iron sandwich maker.”
“It’s mountain pie,” Victor corrected. “And this is what I’m saying. You just don’t respect the craft.”
Dean accepted the beer Victor handed him before settling into one of the Adirondack chairs circling the firepit. The flames crackled high enough to throw sparks toward the darkening sky, while the smell of burning wood mixed with the toasted bread and roasting hot dogs.
It felt easy. Just like so many evenings he’d spent here with Victor over the past year.
Even the company was the same, though this group was more intimate.
It wasn’t unusual for Vivian, Belle, and Pip to be here as well, though Dean wasn’t sure why Victor hadn’t invited more people tonight.
Victor’s firepit was skirting the line of being bonfire sized, so there was plenty of room for at least ten more people.
“None of the guys wanted to come?” Dean asked.
Victor shrugged. “They probably would have if I’d invited them, but tonight, I was hoping for something less wild party and more relaxing. Plus, it’s only the beginning of the season and a few of those yahoos are already starting to wear on my nerves.”
Dean chuckled, even though he agreed. “I’m glad you opted for a smaller crowd.”
Vivian had added a faded university sweatshirt to the jeans and tee she’d been wearing during Pip’s bike riding lesson. Her hair was pulled up into a loose ponytail, wisps escaping around her face every time the breeze shifted.
She caught him looking at her and smiled. God. He was in serious trouble here.
The majority of the conversation as they ate their hot dogs and mountain pies was mainly about work—he and Victor discussing last night’s win against Boston, Belle and Pip talking about what she was learning in kindergarten, and Vivian sharing bits and pieces about the publication of her book, as well as a patient she was concerned about.
She was a genetic counselor at Hopkins, and she’d had to explain what the hell that meant to him during one of their first meetings after he’d returned to Baltimore.
She laughed when his eyes started to glaze over at one point as she described the research she was doing in her attempts to help counsel her patient. “What part is tripping you up?” she teased.
“All of it. But mainly, I’m trying to figure out how you and Victor came from the same parents. I mean clearly,” Dean paused for effect, “you got all the brains.”
Victor chucked a hunk of his hot dog bun at Dean, who deftly dodged it. “Asshole.”
“Uncle Vic,” Pip said, her hand reaching out, palm up.
Victor snorted. “Put it on my tab, Pip. My wallet’s inside on the kitchen counter.”
Vivian had shared over dinner that night in Boston that Victor was currently funding a trip to Disney for all of them, simply with the swear jar Belle had started in hopes of encouraging the Reed siblings to clean up their language around the young girl.
Dean had been amused to learn that Vivian wasn’t much better than her brother at curbing her use of four-letter words.
“So,” Victor started, holding up two cans of pie filling mix. “Should we go for apple or cherry or both for our dessert pies tonight?”
“Both!” Pip shouted. “And s’mores.”
Vivian shook her head. “You’re not eating two dessert pies and s’mores, Pip.”
Pip’s lower lip made an appearance, and Dean wondered if she’d pitch a fit. But Victor, who was an amazing uncle and a natural with the kid, reassured her they would have plenty more firepits in the coming weeks, so she could have all the flavors eventually.
The evening settled into a comfortable rhythm once dinner was eaten and cleaned up.
Dean, Victor, and Vivian were kicked back, all of them stretched out with their feet near the fire.
Belle and Pip were roasting marshmallows with limited success.
Belle had somehow managed to burn the hell out of three in a row.
Dean found himself talking more than he usually did, trading stories with Victor about the “good old days” when they were teammates, while Vivian teased them about old hockey superstitions.
“Rook reminds me a lot of Tommy Miller,” Victor observed. “Looks and personality wise.”
Tommy and Victor had both been rookies, while Dean had been one of the older guys on the team twelve years earlier.
“Hasn’t Rook played for the Rays a few years now?” Belle asked.
He and Victor nodded.
She tilted her head. “So why are you still calling him Rook?”
Rook was short for Rookie, a nickname Preston had bestowed on the younger player during his first year with the team.
“Hell if I know,” Victor said, “but I don’t see that nickname going away.”
Dean chuckled. “Back before your time, Vic, we had a rookie that we’d nicknamed New Guy. I played with him for six years and that name stuck hard. To this day, I’m still not sure what the hell his first name was.”
They all laughed.
Every so often, Dean would glance toward Vivian. Sometimes she’d already be looking at him. Neither of them let those looks linger long enough for anyone else to notice.
Or so he hoped.
As the fire slowly started to wane, Pip yawned widely.
“I think someone is running out of steam,” Belle observed.
“No, I’m not,” Pip insisted, though not very convincingly. Especially when she yawned again and rubbed her eyes. Pip looked at her mother. “Can I sleep here?”
Dean had been around enough to know that Pip had her own bedroom at Victor’s house. Hell, Vivian hadn’t lived with her brother since college, and her old bedroom was still here, Victor refusing to use the room for anything else.
“It’s a school night, Pip,” Vivian said, clearly ready to refuse the request.
“Pleeeeease,” Pip drawled.
Vivian looked toward Belle, who shrugged good-naturedly.
“I’m taking her to school tomorrow anyway, since you start work early,” Belle pointed out. “And she’s got plenty of clothes here.”
“Are you sure?” Vivian asked her nanny.
“Absolutely,” Belle assured her.
“Well, okay. But just for tonight, and you’re not staying up late.” Vivian looked at the time on her phone. “In fact, it’s time for bed now. Why don’t you run in to brush your teeth and put your pajamas on? I’ll be inside in a few minutes to read you a story.”
“Can Uncle Vic read to me? He does funny voices.”
“Of course, I can,” Victor added, not giving Vivian a chance to refuse. “Come on, Pipsqueak. I’ll help you get ready.”
Belle rose, as well. “I’ll come too. I miss reading bedtime stories with you, Pip.”
Up until August, Belle had been Pip’s full-time, live-in nanny, however, that had changed once she’d fallen for Victor. Nowadays, her position was more of a part-time gig, since Pip was in school and Belle had moved in with Victor.
“We’ll only be a little while,” Belle said to Vivian and Dean.
“Actually,” Dean said, standing. “I might call it a night too.”
“Me too,” Vivian agreed.
“We’ll say good night here, then. Mind putting the fire out while we put the little one to bed?” Victor asked Dean.
Dean nodded. “No problem.”