Page 25 of Return

Vivian had stopped wanting things for herself after Pip’s birth, convinced the only thing that mattered was raising that baby girl. But the book had been her first baby, the culmination of years of work and research, and the idea of someone else stepping in and finishing it bothered her. A lot. So she’d talked to Victor and Belle about it, and they—both wonderful people—had assured her they would take care of Pip so she could finish the work.

It was the first time in years that she’d done something for herself, and at the time, she told herself that it was a one-off. She’d complete the book, then return to the status quo.

Victor and Belle threw a wrench into that plan by falling in love while she was in Africa. Not that she was unhappy with their relationship. No. So maybe it wasn’t a wrench they’d thrown. Instead, it felt like a flashlight, one that shone too bright a light on everything that was missing in her life.

She’d thought that sleeping with Dean had been a tiny detour, one brief chance to grab something for herself.

Maybe if the man didn’t keep appearing in her life, that would have been true, but the run-ins were wreaking havoc on her mental state…and libido.

The more she talked to him, the more impossible it became to believe Boston had been nothing more than an isolated moment.

And it had to be isolated.

Didn’t it?

Every time they said goodbye, she walked away with that same ridiculous pull low in her gut, as though some invisible thread stretched between them, refusing to break.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

Vivian blinked, realizing she had completely zoned out on poor McKenna, who was watching her over the rim of her iced tea glass.

She and the Stingrays’ marketing manager had met last fall at Victor’s place. Her brother was a big fan of firepits, so on crisp, clear, cool nights when the Rays weren’t playing, he’d frequently invite her and Pip and other friends to join him in his backyard.

She and McKenna had been sitting next to each other, so they struck up a conversation that laid the foundation for what had grown to be a close friendship. McKenna, like her father, was easy to talk to.

“Sorry,” she said. “Can’t quite get my head in the game today. Keep getting distracted by…” Vivian had no idea how to finish that sentence because, friends or not, she wasn’t about to confess to McKenna that she’d had a steamy one-night stand with her father. “Work,” she finished lamely.

Vivian had been pleased when McKenna texted to see if she wanted to grab lunch with her at the little café across from the arena. It was early October, so the weather was mild enough for them to sit outside, soaking in some much-needed Vitamin D in the warm sunlight.

It wasn’t unusual for them to meet two or three times a month for lunch, but that routine had fallen off quite a bit since the end of spring. Partly because Vivian had been out of the country for the entire summer, and partly because McKenna was in the throes of a new relationship with the Stingrays’ right winger, Tank.

McKenna accepted Vivian’s excuse, asking how Pip was liking kindergarten. It was the perfect way to distract Vivian from her other distraction—Dean—because if there was one thing she loved talking about, it was Pip.

They had just finished their sandwiches when McKenna’s phone pinged.

“Oh damn,” she murmured. “I have to run. My boss just moved up our afternoon meeting.”

Vivian waved her on. “We were nearly finished, and it’s my turn to pay anyway. Go on. I’m just going to finish my drink and enjoy this weather. In a few more months, we’re going to be forced inside by winter. Januarys in Baltimore are brutal.”

McKenna bent down to give her a quick hug. “Talk soon.”

Vivian nodded when the waitress came by and offered to refill her iced tea. She sipped it slowly, enjoying the crisp fall air for another twenty minutes.

Unlike McKenna, she wasn’t on the clock. It was her day off, so she didn’t have to rush back to her job as a genetic counselor at Johns Hopkins. McKenna’s lunch invitation had been the kick in the pants Vivian needed to get off the couch, get dressed, and get moving. The cupboards were bare at home, and she had been debating whether she should go to the grocery or embrace the laziness and just order from Instacart. She had foolishly thought getting out would distract her from her obsessive thoughts of Dean.

She had been wrong.

“Viv?”

Jesus Christ. Was she somehow summoning this man without realizing it?

She looked up to find Dean standing next to her table. He wore jeans and a team hoodie, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey,” he said, his smile so genuine, there was no question he was happy to see her.

Her heart stuttered in response, because it had been so long since anyone had looked at her like that. Like Phil used to.

“Hey.”