Chapter 30
Vivian
Storms scare me.
And they scare Riley even more.
I try to stay calm, to be that steady anchor for her when the thunder shakes the windows and lightning slices through the sky like an angry warning. But it doesn’t stop the way my chest tightens when it starts. Especially this time of year.
Even though it’s summer, we tend to get some storms, not a lot but maybe a few random days.
Another flash lights up the living room, and before the thunder even rumbles, Riley’s already climbing into my lap on the couch, clutching my arm.
I kiss the top of her head and reach for the remote, turning on our favorite movie.
The one with the talking animals and the catchy songs we always end up humming to.
I turn the volume high enough to drown out the storm and pull the blanket tighter around us, already knowing the next steps by heart, hot cocoa, extra marshmallows, lights low, curtains shut.
And even with all that, the anxiety simmers beneath the surface. A familiar ache. A silent memory of a night I try not to relive.
“Mommy,” Riley whispers, curling closer. “I hate thunderstorms.”
“I know, honey,” I murmur, brushing my hand through her curls. “I hate them too.”
In moments like this, I can’t help but worry about everyone I love. I need to know they’re safe. It’s irrational, maybe, but storms remind me of what happened with Trevor. One moment can change everything.
So I do what I always do.
I text the people who matter.
Dad. Mindy. Greg.
And lately, even Miles.
Dad’s home. Mindy’s at Greg’s. Safe. That settles something in my chest, but not everything.
I glance at my phone on the coffee table and hesitate for only a second before picking it up and opening my chat with Miles.
Vivian: Hey, I know this is random but… are you home?
I hit send before I can second-guess it.
The anxiety builds while I wait, my thumb tapping against my nail.
Another clap of thunder shakes the window.
Then my phone lights up.
Miles: I’m heading home now. Just finished a meeting with Mya. Why, are you and Riley okay?
I exhale slowly. Just seeing his name calms something in me.
I stare at the screen, hesitate again. Then type.
Vivian: Not really.
His response is instant.
Miles: Do you need me to come over?
I hesitate and think about it carefully. It might be a bad idea.
Another loud boom and lightning flashes.
I’m fine, Riley is cuddled up against me, her pink blanket covering her body up to her chin as she watches the TV.
Vivian: No no, I’ll be okay. Sorry for bothering you. Let me know when you get home please.
He doesn’t see the message straight away so I assume he’s busy. I lock my phone and place it beside me as I try to focus on what’s going on in the movie.
As soon as the notification goes off, I grab my phone instantly.
Miles: I’m coming over, I’ll be there soon.
Vivian: Thanks…please drive safe.
Miles: Don’t worry about me Bambi.
A smile creeps onto my face, despite the storm.
Riley looks over at my phone then turns to me with bright eyes.
“Miles is coming to the house?” she asks, hopeful, already grinning.
I nod, smoothing her curls back. “He is.”
The truth is, I wasn’t sure what it would be like, introducing her to someone new.
But Miles? He’s been gentle with her from the beginning. Patient. Playful and the way she lights up around him…it’s more than I could’ve hoped for.
“Should we make him a hot cocoa too?” I ask.
Riley nods enthusiastically, reaching for the whipped cream.
She swipes a little off the rim of her mug and smears it across her cheek before wiping it away with her sleeve.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Hey! We use napkins, not our arms or our clothes, little missy.”
She shrugs, cheeky. “Whoops.”
I grab a napkin and wipe her face gently, my heart feeling just a little lighter, even with the thunder still growling outside.
I pause the movie, and we make our way to the kitchen. The storm outside rages on, the distant booms of thunder shaking the windows and lighting up the room. The house feels still, save for the rhythmic sound of raindrops tapping against the windowpane.
Riley’s face scrunches up every time the thunder crashes, her little hands covering her ears. I flash her a soft smile and reach for my phone, turning on some music to drown out the noise. It’s a trick I’ve learned over time, one that usually works, even if just for a little while.
I gather the ingredients for hot cocoa, the familiar motions calming me. Riley, still small enough, struggles to reach the counter so I slide a chair over to help her climb up. Her eyes meet mine with a spark of curiosity, as they always do when she’s about to ask one of her never-ending questions.
“When can we go visit Daddy?” she asks, her voice quiet, full of innocence.
I pause, my heart giving a little squeeze. It’s been a couple of weeks since our last visit, life moving in fast-forward and leaving some things behind. I know I should’ve made time sooner. Guilt sits heavy on my chest.
“Well, because of the storm, tomorrow will be all muddy, and I work all day on Wednesday,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “But how about we go after work on Thursday? I’ll make sure we have time, okay?”
Her small face lights up, and she throws her arms around me, wrapping me in a tight hug. It’s one of those moments that fills me with warmth, reminding me of the importance of these little rituals we have. The way she clings to the memories of Trevor is both heartbreaking and beautiful.
As I pour milk into the pot, I glance over at her. “Have you seen any butterflies lately?” I ask, my voice quiet, almost uncertain.
She nods enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement. “I saw one when we were riding the horse! I didn’t say anything ’cause it’s a secret.”
I raise an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. “A secret? Why’s that?”
She leans in close, her finger pressed to her lips like she’s sharing the most sacred secret in the world. “Because Daddy was watching you smile and laugh,” she says, her voice full of the innocence only a child can have, as she watches the milk start to bubble.
I feel a pang in my chest at her words. My breath catches, a fleeting sting of grief and longing threatening to break through the smile I’m desperately holding on to.
But I force it back, pushing the emotion aside, as I finish stirring the cocoa. “He’d be proud of you, you know,” I say softly. “You always made him smile.”
Riley smiles again, her tiny hand stirring the cocoa with her little wooden spoon.
Talking about Trevor, about the good memories, has helped calm us both. Days like this, rainy and filled with thunder, make remembering him feel like the most natural thing in the world.
We both stop at the same time when we hear two sharp knocks at the door.
“Honey, don’t touch the pot, it’s hot. But can you grab the marshmallows and whipped cream, please?” I ask, glancing over at Riley as I walk toward the front door.
“Okay, Mommy!” she replies, practically leaping off the chair, her humming filling the space as she skips to the cabinet.
I open the door to find Miles standing there, drenched. His hair falls in wet strands across his forehead, droplets of rain clinging to his face like little beads of water. His T-shirt is plastered to his chest, showing off the definition of his muscles, and his jeans are soaked through.
“My god! Get in here,” I say, stepping aside to let him in, already feeling the rush of relief at the sight of him, even in his drenched state.
Normally, I’d be annoyed about the water dripping onto the floor, but tonight, with the storm outside and everything happening, I couldn’t care less.
“They weren’t kidding about the weather,” Miles says, wiping his face with the back of his hand, carefully removing his wet boots by the door.
Riley comes running, her eyes wide. “Oh no!” she exclaims.
We both look at her, and she points dramatically, her voice filled with concern. “Miles, you’re going to catch a cold!”
I laugh, and so does he.
“It’s only a bit of rain, Riley,” he says with a grin, trying to downplay the situation, though it’s clear he looks like he just swam here.
“She’s right, though. Go have a shower, and I’ll find you something to wear,” I suggest, realizing with a small knot in my stomach that the only spare clothes I have are Trevor’s.
“Are you sure?” Miles asks, his voice hesitant.
“Yes,” we both reply in unison, and it feels so natural, so…right, despite the awkwardness of the moment.
“Daddy has some comfy clothes upstairs,” Riley adds helpfully, popping a marshmallow into her mouth.
I glance at Miles, watching him rub the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I…uh, I don’t know if I should,” he stammers.
Maybe it is a little weird, but I can’t leave him standing there in soaked clothes. I quickly try to offer another option.
“I’ve got some oversized T-shirts and shorts when I was pregnant with Riley,” I suggest, trying to make it sound less awkward.
His eyes light up with that charming smile of his. “I could give those a try,” he says, clearly amused by the situation.
Riley, now with more marshmallows stuffed in her mouth than I thought possible, giggles and says in an exaggerated voice, “Look, chubby bunny!”
But we can hardly hear her over the three marshmallows in her cheeks.
We all laugh because, well, that’s Riley for you. Random, funny, and somehow able to lighten up any moment.
Then another loud boom of thunder shakes the windows.
Riley, startled, drops her marshmallows and runs to me, wrapping her arms around my leg. Her little face is full of worry.
Miles looks over at me, a silent question in his eyes. I shake my head, understanding exactly what he’s thinking.
Without missing a beat, he drops down to his knees to meet Riley’s gaze. “Not a fan of thunder?” he asks softly, his voice calm and gentle.
Riley looks up at him with her wide, glassy green eyes, shaking her head slowly.