Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Vivian woke just past dawn. For a few blissful seconds, she couldn’t remember why she was so warm. Then she heard the steady breathing beside her, felt the rise and fall of the chest beneath her cheek.
Dean.
She smiled before she could stop herself. Last night had been wonderful. Perfect, really. She remained still, replaying it in her mind, her smile lingering until another, more unwelcome emotion crept in.
Guilt.
She hadn’t felt any guilt after that stolen night in Boston.
Probably because in her mind, it was a one-off.
A one-night stand—her first—and something that she had taken just for herself.
After all, she was a woman and she had needs.
Five years was a long time to exist on self-induced, lukewarm orgasms. She had a healthy sex drive, always had.
Sleeping with Dean in that hotel had been an early Christmas present to herself, even though she’d known it was something she could only play with once.
Then, he’d followed her home from the café.
Again, she’d simply jumped in, taking what she wanted without considering what came next.
Honestly, at the time, she’d truly believed nothing could come next.
She had a young daughter to raise and the idea of introducing a man into Pip’s life scared Vivian spitless.
So, she’d dismissed the negative emotions, like guilt and regret, convinced they weren’t necessary. She had scratched an itch, no more, no less, and never again.
That was the lie she’d been telling herself until she saw Dean standing next to Pip and her broken bicycle yesterday.
That was when her long-dormant uterus popped out an egg because…
damn…the image of Dean holding that training wheel, talking so sweetly to her daughter, had done a number on her hormones.
Maybe resisting Dean would be easier if the man wasn’t so damn hot and nice. One or the other, she could resist, but he was the complete package of sexy, compassionate, funny, sweet, and sexy. Sexy bore repeating.
She’d enjoyed sitting around the firepit, listening to Victor and Dean share hockey stories and watching him help Pip assemble the perfect s’more. She caught him in the act of looking at her across the flames more than once. Probably because she’d been trying to steal peeks at him as well.
It had been so, so long since a man had looked at her with that much desire, and it spoke to her lonely soul. Still, as they’d walked toward their cars, her brain screamed at her to say good night—but her body had other plans.
She had offered the invitation, he’d accepted, and now…
Vivian had never anticipated sharing this bed with any other man than Phil. And that was when all the lies she’d been telling herself about Dean fell away.
Her brain short-circuited, her emotions going haywire.
She had to get out of here.
Vivian carefully slipped from the bed, trying not to wake Dean. He murmured something unintelligible and rolled onto his side, one arm stretching across the space she’d just vacated.
He was seeking her out in his sleep. Her heart squeezed and she was tempted to crawl right back into bed.
Stop it, Viv.
She padded to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind her. The early morning sun spilled through the frosted window, bright enough that she didn’t need to bother turning on the vanity light.
She rested both hands on the sink and studied herself in the mirror. She might only be thirty, but there were days when she felt as if she was a hundred and thirty.
This morning, she looked younger. With her mussed hair, lips puffy from Dean’s kisses, and eyes that looked…
She paused.
Her eyes looked sparkly. Happy. She blinked several times, as if she could drive those feelings out, though she didn’t know why she should have to try.
“How?” she whispered to her reflection.
How the hell could she feel this happy?
How could she lie in another man’s arms and wake up smiling?
How could she laugh around Victor’s fire, watch Pip learn to ride a bike, and kiss Dean good night, all without thinking of Phil?
She hadn’t gotten to this point in one blinding aha! moment. No, she’d been creeping here half an inch at a time for five years.
Her gaze dropped to her left hand, where the wedding ring caught in the pale sunlight. She twisted it absentmindedly, something she’d done a thousand times before. Most people assumed she still wore it because she wasn’t ready to date or because she was still mourning for her husband.
The truth was more complicated than that. She wasn’t wearing it to tell the world she still belonged to Phil. She wore it because taking it off felt…
Final.
As long as the ring remained, some irrational part of her could pretend their story hadn’t ended. Removing it felt like closing a book she never wanted to finish. Like there were no more chapters.
Her vision blurred with tears. “Phil,” she whispered, his name cracking something open inside her. “I miss you. I miss you every single day.”
She closed her eyes, swiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks, images of her daughter flashing through her mind. Pip on her bicycle, so proud and fearless. She was so much like her father sometimes, it took Vivian’s breath away.
“I wish you could have known her, could have been the one to teach her how to ride that bike.”
Instead, it had been Dean, and he’d been a wonderful teacher…just like Phil would have been.
She dismissed that thought, purposely putting away comparisons of Dean and Phil. Dean wasn’t replacing him. No one ever could. They weren’t the same men, and there was nothing wrong with that.
She loved Phil. She always would.
But she was beginning to suspect…she could fall in love with someone else, as well.
Maybe even Dean.
That realization no longer scared her as much as she expected.
Her heart had healed. And while that felt incredible, it also felt like only one hurdle had been cleared.
There were other roadblocks in her path, and some felt insurmountable.
The main one being Pip’s happiness. Vivian was terrified of doing anything that might hurt her daughter.
Vivian shut that fear down, allowing herself to enjoy today’s win.
“One day at a time,” she murmured under her breath. Those words had been her mantra for years, but she probably hadn’t said them to herself in over nine months.
For so long, she’d believed loving someone else meant loving Phil less. Now, standing in this quiet bathroom alone, she finally understood that wasn’t how love worked. It wasn’t pie. Giving a piece to someone new didn’t make the pieces she gave to her husband disappear.
Her thumb slid beneath the edge of the wedding ring. She thought about Phil who used to tease her for alphabetizing the spice rack, who danced with her in the kitchen while their pancakes burned, who kissed her forehead every morning before work.
Phil had never asked her to stop living. In fact, he’d begged her to do the opposite. To get out there, to open her heart, to love again.
She looked at her reflection, watching as the last of her tears evaporated. Determination replaced guilt, and hope took over, kicking confusion and anxiety to the curb.
“I’m ready,” she said to herself, letting the words bolster her.
With steady fingers, she eased the ring over her knuckle. It caught for just a second before slipping free.
Her hand looked different, felt lighter. She stared at the gold band in her palm, then set the ring in the small dish by the sink. She drew in a long, steady breath, then opened the bathroom door, stepping back into the bedroom.
Dean was still asleep. The sight of him made her smile, and this time, she let herself walk back to him, crawling under the covers. Either her movement or her now-chilly skin roused him.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice husky from sleep.
Vivian snuggled beneath the comforter, sighing happily as he pulled her into his arms. “Yeah.”
His eyes remained half closed. “You were gone.”
“Bathroom.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, settling his chin on top of her head. “I missed you. You have a busy day today?”
“I have to be at work at eight,” she replied regretfully.
“I like to spend an hour going over lab reports and checking emails before I start seeing patients. I have a new patient coming in at ten who’s starting in our cancer clinic, and from there…
well, I’m hopping between meetings and patients all day. Never a dull moment. How about you?”
Dean grunted. “Gotta be on the bus with the team by ten. We’re heading to Pittsburg for a game tonight. Following that, we’re climbing back on the bus and continuing to Boston. On the road for four days.”
“Sounds like a long week for you.”
Dean shrugged. “That’s just part of the job.”
“Do you mind being on the road?”
He shook his head. “No, but to be honest, I’ve been doing it for so long—over half my life—that I don’t know anything else.”
“I think Victor feels the same way, though I’ve noticed he’s started grumbling more about the away games than he used to. Of course, we both know why that is.”
In unison, they said, “Belle,” the two of them laughing.
They lay there for a few more minutes, both trying to summon the energy to get up and get their days started.
Vivian was just about to make her move, rising from bed, when Dean spoke.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his eyes now awake and alert.
She giggled. “Sounds dangerous.”
“It usually is,” he replied, playing along with her joke. “I’ve been trying to figure out what the proper protocol is here.”
She frowned, confused. “Protocol on what?”
He waved his finger between them.
“Ah,” she said. “I’ve enjoyed our impromptu run-ins, but…would you maybe want to plan the next one?”
Dean chuckled. “Not sure that counts as impromptu, but yeah. I would like to plan another meeting.”
“Meeting,” she said, trying the word out. “You realize most people call them dates.”
Dean groaned. “I should probably warn you, I’ve never been particularly good at that.”
“Dating?”
“Yep. I’m terrible at it.”