Chapter 31
Miles
As I’m about to step in the shower, my eyes wander around Vivian’s bathroom. It’s exactly what I expected—the perfect blend of lived-in and neat, like a space that’s seen both chaos and care.
The sink’s cluttered with the small things, making it personal.
Two toothbrushes sit side by side, one big, purple, and well-worn, the other small and vibrant in green and purple, almost childlike.
I can’t help but smile. There’s a scrunchie abandoned on the edge of the sink too, like Vivian tossed it aside in the middle of her day.
The shelves are lined with bottles of shampoo, conditioners, and lotions—all the essentials. And then I spot one that catches my attention—her sweet almond caramel scent. I lift the bottle of perfume, its glass clear with golden liquid shimmering inside. I press it to my wrist and inhale deeply.
Yeah.
That’s definitely her perfume.
It’s subtle, but unmistakably her. Sweet, comforting. It hits me harder than I thought it would, making my chest tighten a little. Damn, that scent…it lingers in my thoughts longer than it should, but I shake it off.
My eyes slide to the laundry basket, which is nearly overflowing.
She’s got a lot on her plate—too much, I think.
Maybe that’s why she never asks for help.
But I know she needs it. She’s the kind of person who’s always giving, always putting others first. I can tell she’ll do anything for Riley. For her dad too, I imagine.
From what she’s said about him, her dad seems like the kind of guy who’ll do whatever it takes to make her life easier.
He’s a good man, no question there. I can see how much she adores him.
It’s in the way she talks about him, how she smiles when she mentions his visits.
He’s there when she needs him. When Vivian and Riley need him.
He’s a protector. The kind of man a daughter should have in her life.
I turn my attention back to the shower. The walk-in space is perfect—big enough for more than one person, but there’s no way I’ll be sharing it with anyone today. The stone tiles are cool underfoot, and I step inside, feeling the warmth of the air settle around me.
I tilt my head back and look up. The ceiling is lined with a sleek infinity showerhead, and I turn the tap, letting the water cascade down, soaking me instantly.
I turn to look for the shower gel—of course, the only one is strawberry-scented.
“Great,” I mutter, a small laugh escaping me.
Not only am I about to wear her clothes, but now I’m going to smell like a damn fruit salad too.
Fucking fantastic.
I can’t help it—I smile again. Because I’m here for her and Riley, I don’t care if Riley dressed me up in a tiara and tutu if it made her and Vivian happy.
Right now, even if I do smell like I just rolled in fruity body wash, it’s kind of comforting. A small part of me—maybe the part I didn’t even know was missing—likes being here.
I finish drying off, the towel rough against my skin.
I wipe away the last of the water from my face, the dampness of my hair falling over my forehead.
I brush it to the side with a quick swipe, feeling the strands stick together.
It’s not the most dignified look, but it fits the vibe of the situation.
I grab the clothes she left out for me-this gray “oversized” T-shirt and instantly realize the term “oversized” is being very generous.
I pull it over my head, and to my surprise, it fits…
a little too well. It’s supposed to be loose and comfy, but it hugs my chest like a damn fitted tee.
The fabric stretches across my shoulders in a way that’s way too snug.
I curse under my breath, trying to pull at the hem like it’ll magically loosen up. No luck.
I’m half-relieved when the shorts slide on easily enough, but then I realize the real problem: they’re tight.
Like, really tight in all the wrong places.
My legs feel fine—hell, they’re even looser than I expected—but when I reach for the waistband, I can tell this isn’t going to work. They fit everywhere but the crotch.
“Jesus,” I mutter, glancing at myself in the mirror.
I take a deep breath, trying to adjust myself in front of the mirror. The waistband digs in, and no matter how much I try to shift, these shorts feel like they might rip with one wrong move.
“God, I look ridiculous,” I say, tugging at the waistband again like that’ll somehow make it fit better. It doesn’t.
If anyone walked in right now, I’d definitely be the punchline of a joke. And that joke would be me.
But just as I’m about to throw my hands up in defeat, I hear Riley from the living room.
“Mommy! Is Miles ready yet?”
“Just a second, Riley!” I shout back, still tugging at the waistband for all the good it’s doing me.
I sigh, and walk downstairs, still adjusting the clothes as I go. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I spot Riley sitting on the couch. Her eyes go wide when she sees me. Then she starts giggling. Not just a little laugh, but a full-on, uncontrollable giggle fit.
“You look so funny, Miles!” she exclaims, pointing at me like I’m some sort of zoo exhibit.
I try to play it cool, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe. “What’s wrong, kid? You don’t like my new look?”
Her giggles turn into full-blown laughter. She practically falls off the couch, clutching her sides.
“You’re dressed like Mommy!” Riley announces, practically bursting with pride, as if she’s just uncovered the world’s most important secret.
I look down at myself, doing my best to hold back my own grin. I strike a pose, one hand on my hip, and the other lifting my shirt as I raise an eyebrow. “I’m owning it,” I say, making sure to exaggerate my stance for full comedic effect.
Riley’s eyes widen, her laughter spilling out uncontrollably.
She’s clutching her stomach, almost falling off the couch as she giggles harder, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with joy.
I can feel the warmth of her amusement spreading through the room, and despite how tight these damn clothes are, I can’t help but smile at her joy.
“I’m just glad you think I’m funny, kid,” I say, trying to sound serious but failing miserably as I give in to the moment. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
She grins, her laughter slowing down, but the amusement in her eyes never fades. She’s still thoroughly entertained by my ridiculousness.
I crouch down to her level, ruffling her hair.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, kid.”
She giggles again, but then suddenly stops, her eyes going wide. She looks me over once more, tilting her head as if she’s figured something out.
Just then, I hear footsteps in the hallway.
I turn, and there’s Vivian, walking into the living room with two mugs of hot cocoa in her hands.
She pauses mid-step when she sees me, really sees me.
Her gaze shifts from the mugs to me and her lips twitch.
She tries to suppress it, but the soft laughter escapes anyway.
“What—” she starts, her voice catching as she lets out a laugh, trying to hide it behind her hand.
I raise my eyebrows. “I’m owning it,” I say, leaning into the absurdity of it all.
Vivian steps a little closer, her eyes lighting up with that playful amusement. “You look…” She pauses, trying to find the right words, but clearly can’t help herself. “Charming.”
I give her a mock bow, one hand sweeping dramatically in front of me. “Why, thank you.”
Vivian’s smile softens, and she sets the mugs down on the coffee table before turning her attention back to me. “Thank you for being here, Miles.”
I grin, not taking my eyes off her. “Always, Bambi.”
Her gaze softens, but there’s something in the way she’s looking at me that makes my heart skip. The laughter from earlier fades into a more comfortable silence, and it feels…right. I never thought I’d feel like this in someone else’s home, but right now?
It feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips, but it’s impossible to hide it when Riley’s giggling like that. I glance at Vivian, catching her eye, and for a second everything else just…fades.
The thunder? The lightning? It all seems so distant now, as if the storm doesn’t even exist anymore.
For a moment, it’s just us—me, Vivian, and Riley wrapped up in this little bubble. The chaos from the storm feels miles away, like it’s no longer ours to worry about. Riley’s calm now, nestled up against me, and even Vivian looks a little more relaxed. The air feels warmer, the weight of it easier.
We’re exactly where we’re meant to be.
Vivian sits first, settling onto the couch with a sigh of relief.
She hands Riley her hot cocoa, and Riley clutches it like it’s the most precious thing, taking a small sip and curling in against her mom.
Vivian watches her for a second, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
There’s something so gentle in the way she looks at Riley, and I can’t help but notice how that softness carries over to how she looks at me now.
I’m still standing there with my mug of cocoa, the heat seeping through the ceramic into my palms. I should sit, but I’m not in any hurry.
Vivian glances toward the couch, then up at me. “Get in here,” she murmurs.
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my mouth.
I take the spot on the other side of Riley, settling in.
My arm slips along the back of the couch, fingers brushing behind Riley’s tiny head before finding Vivian’s hair.
I stroke it gently, slow and careful, and she leans into the touch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.