Chapter 14
Vivian
A couple of busy days later, on Saturday, Mindy comes over to spend the day at my house. The weather is stunning here so I decided to spend the day doing some chores and then by the pool with Riley and Mindy.
“So, we’re actually going to see Miles Sanchez ride a wild bull?” Mindy fans herself dramatically, her eyes wide with fake awe. “That’s so hot.”
I roll my eyes and bump her hip with mine. “Please. I was practically guilt-tripped into going. Riley pulled the full puppy-dog eyes, and I caved.”
I turn to grab the freshly washed sheets from the washing machine and start tossing them into the basket. They smell of clean cotton-soft, comforting and warm.
“Oh, and it was so obvious Greg wanted me to go so badly just so you’d tag along. That man is down bad for you. What did you do to him?”
Mindy swings her legs lazily as she sits on the counter, inspecting her nails like we’re not talking about her scandalous love life. “You don’t wanna know,” she sings, giggling.
I pause, giving her a look and tilting my head. “You’re probably right. I don’t want to know. Because you’re dirty as hell.”
I lift the basket and head through the back door, the fresh air warm against my skin. Riley’s lying on her stomach in the grass, legs kicking in the air, completely engrossed in The Princess and the Pea.
“How’s the book, baby?” I call out.
Honestly, thank god she’s not obsessed with iPads or YouTube like half the kids her age. Trevor and I had agreed when I was pregnant, no electronics until she’s older and actually needs one for school or emergencies.
It’s one of the few parenting decisions we made together that I’ve stuck to.
She’s a total social butterfly, always chatting, always imagining, always building little worlds out of absolutely anything.
And smart. Too smart.
Which makes having any sort of adult conversation in this house damn near impossible. The girl picks up on everything.
She glances up from the book, sunlight catching in her honey-brown curls. “It’s really good! She can feel the pea under all the mattresses.”
I smile, setting the laundry basket down on the bench next to the clothing line.
Riley giggles and rolls onto her back, arms stretched out like she’s soaking up the sun and the story all at once.
Trevor would’ve loved this. He always said she’d be a mix of sweet and fire, and he was right. She’s got my determination and his lightness, like she could lift a whole room just by walking into it.
I swallow past the lump that creeps up out of nowhere. Grief still sneaks in like that. Quiet. Sudden. Sharp around the edges.
“You okay?” Mindy’s voice pulls me back. She’s leaning in the doorway now, watching me with that look she reserves for the moments I get too quiet. The ones where she knows I’ve drifted into the past again.
I nod, brushing my hands on my jeans. “Yeah.”
She doesn’t press. She just gives me that knowing look, equal parts I’ve got you and you don’t have to explain.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s hang the sheets before Riley tries to convince you to build a sheet fortress.”
I laugh, grabbing a corner of the fitted sheet. “Lucky for us, she seems very interested in that book of hers.”
We get to work, the rhythm of the day settling in again. Birds chirping, sheets fluttering, Riley humming to herself. And somewhere underneath it all, this quiet hum in my chest.
A soft buzz that’s been there since I saw Miles again.
“Does Greg talk about me?” Mindy asks, focusing a little too hard on the corner of the sheet as we stretch it out between us.
I glance at her, catching the flicker of something soft in her expression.
Something unsure. She may try to play it cool, but I know her too well.
I’ve seen every version of her, every heartbreak, every tear she thought no one noticed, every moment she picked herself up and pretended it didn’t hurt.
Mindy has always felt too much and then punishes herself for it.
She used to be this shy, sweet, hopeless romantic person.
The kind of girl who thought love letters were sacred and eye contact meant something, but life kicked the softness out of her over the years.
Now she wears bold lipstick, sharp comebacks, and that flirty, fiery confidence like armor.
It works. Men fall over themselves for her, but she never lets them in. Not emotionally anyway.
So hearing her ask this? It’s like a sliver of the old her slipping out because she hasn’t spoken about her feelings in a long time.
“Honestly?” I say, tightening the sheet on my side. “We haven’t had the chance. Work’s been insane, and the only quiet moments we had, Miles and Riley were with us.”
She nods, lips twitching down for just a second. “Right. Makes sense.”
She reaches for another bedsheet, like she’s trying to brush the question away with the breeze. “It’s okay. Not that I care that much. Just wondered.”
I don’t push. I could. I could tell her that Greg watches her like she’s hung the damn moon. That, every time she leaves the room, he tracks her like he’s afraid she won’t come back. But I know Mindy. If I tell her that before she’s ready to hear it, she’ll just shut it down.
So instead, I say, “I think you’re on his mind more than you think.”
She glances at me, a quiet kind of gratitude flickering in her eyes before turning back to the sheet. For a second, I think she might actually let herself sit in the softness of the moment.
But nope.
Right on cue, she tosses her hair over her shoulder.
I snort and grab a folded T-shirt from the laundry pile, launching it straight at her face. It lands perfectly, covering her entire head.
She yelps. “Rude!”
“Deserved,” I shoot back, laughing.
She pulls the shirt off with a dramatic sigh, but I don’t miss the way her cheeks are just a little flushed. Her eyes flick to mine, and for a second she drops the act.
“Okay, okay… I just wanted to know if he…” She hesitates, the words sticking like honey in her throat.
“If he’s interested in you?” I finish, folding the last towel over the clothesline. “Even though we haven’t talked about it, yeah. He seems interested.”
Her grin softens, lips curving into something more real.
“How can you tell?” she asks softly.
Honestly, words don’t have to say much. Sometimes it’s the things they don’t say, the glances, the shifts in energy.
Like the way Greg looked when Riley mentioned Mindy coming to the rodeo.
His whole expression changed. Eyes softening. Shoulders lifting, like a weight had been removed just by the possibility of her showing up. I’ve never seen someone try so hard not to look hopeful.
And the way he’s always checking his phone at work. Like he’s waiting for something. Or someone.
I caught him the other night, phone in hand again, thumb hovering over the screen.
“You expecting something important?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
He just shrugged it off and continued working.
Then there was the time Mindy dropped Riley off at the bar, and the two of them shared a quick conversation. I couldn’t hear what was said, but the air between them shifted. Like something was being held between them, fragile and unfinished.
I don’t know if she sees it. The way he watches her. Like she’s both the chaos and calm. Like even when she drives him up the wall, he’d still take her over anyone else.
Back in the moment, I glance across the clothesline and catch Mindy biting her lip as she hangs a pillowcase. She’s quiet again.
“You know…” I say, watching Riley go into the house probably looking for something to snack on.
“The past couple of months I’ve been working with him…
I’ve never seen him act this way about anyone.
Not even close. Women flirt with him during shifts, like, shamelessly, and he just shuts them down every time.
He’s not interested. Not even a flicker. ”
Mindy doesn’t respond right away. She hangs the pillowcase a little more carefully than necessary, her expression unreadable. But I see the twitch in her jaw. The way her fingers pause for a split second.
I don’t push. I just keep going, like it’s no big deal, even though we both know it kind of is.
“When Riley mentioned you might be at the rodeo, I saw it. Something shifted in him. Like…like he was hoping but trying not to.”
Mindy lets out a breath—short and quiet—but doesn’t look up. “Maybe he’s just being nice.”
I give her a look. “He’s nice to everyone—well, not everyone, but he doesn’t look at everyone the way he looks at you.”
She finally lifts her eyes, meeting mine with a flash of something—curiosity, maybe, or uncertainty. It’s fleeting, but it’s there.
“I’m just saying,” I add softly. “Whatever it is…it doesn’t feel one-sided.”
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t scoff or deflect either. Which, for Mindy, is kind of a big deal.
She moves on to the last pillowcase without a word, but her shoulders aren’t as tight as they were before. Her silence isn’t cold, it’s contemplative. Like maybe she’s letting the thought sit, just for a minute.
And I don’t say anything more.
Riley comes bounding toward us across the yard, cheeks flushed from the heat and excitement. Her curls bounce with every step, a triumphant smile on her face as she holds three popsicles, one already dripping down her arm.
“One for Auntie Minnie,” she says proudly, handing Mindy a pink one. “One for Mommy,” she continues, giving me the orange one, “and one for me!”
She rips into the wrapper and pops it in her mouth like it’s a prize she’s earned.
“Thanks, sweet pea,” Mindy says as she unwraps hers slowly, biting the edge before letting it rest between her lips with a content sigh.
“Thank you, honey,” I tell her.
“Don’t run with a popsicle in your mouth, Riley!” I call out, heart stuttering with worry as she dashes back to the spot she’d been reading in.
She throws me a cheeky grin like she knows exactly how to push my buttons.
“She’s a menace,” Mindy says fondly.
“She’s you in miniature form.”