He wasn’t there for Vivi’s birth, but he can be here for every moment after because he’s her dad.
Then his gaze shifts over, to the papers he wasn’t expecting. The ones that detail legal name change from Vivienne Hamilton to Vivienne Loretta Silva. My way of showing Theo that he’ll never be an interloper—he’s stuck with us for life.
He says nothing, but I watch his throat work. “This . . . this is . . .”
“If you want, we can get another DNA test done to officially match you with—”
He spins and kisses me, his hands tangling in my hair as he claims me with his mouth, brands me with his hands.
We don’t talk. There’s nothing left to say. We talk with our hands as each piece of our clothing gets discarded. We talk with our lips as he lays me on the couch and hovers over me. We talk with our bodies as we come together achingly slow and the most delicious tension unfurls between us.
It strikes me that perhaps I’m not an easy woman to love, but Theo does it so effortlessly that I feel like I could be. Like I deserve to be.
I come alive beneath his hands. I come apart beneath them too. And he puts me back together every damn time.
We lie here in the afterglow, bodies sticky with perspiration, hearts beating against each other, arms wrapped tight like nothing in the world could pull us apart.
“You ready to throw those flowers out now?” Theo’s husky voice pulls me from my thoughts. He glances over at the sideboard, upon which sits the vase containing moldy water and black, wilted roses. “Because now they’re more gross than they were in the first place.”
I rub my cheek against his toned chest and giggle, feeling lighter than I have in . . . well, maybe ever.
“No. I have a plan for those.”
41
Winter
Winter: You ready?
Summer: Very.
I hear the shuffle of three other sets of feet behind me as I walk up the winding brick pathway to the house I used to call home. Now, compared to where I live with Theo, it feels gaudy and overdone. Big and empty. It takes up every square inch of space on the lot. The trees are too small and new, and I can hear the rush of traffic from the nearby freeway.
It’s not Chestnut Springs.
It’s not home.
When I near the three marble steps that lead to the massive door, I peer over my shoulder. Summer is grinning almost maniacally. Rhett is standing behind her, hands on her shoulders.
But it’s Theo who keeps me staring. Like always.
He’s leaned up against the side of the garage, arms crossed. Plain white tee stretched over his biceps. Jeans hugging his long legs in a way that makes my mouth water.
Combat boots tugged carelessly over the top.
Laces not tied.
I remember thinking once that the very last thing I needed in my life was a man who didn’t tie his laces.
It makes me laugh now, a light little chuckle that bubbles up from somewhere near my heart.
How wrong I was.
I feel like he rolled up and loosened my laces when I didn’t realize I was tied up far too tight.
“You’re gawking, Tink!” he calls out and I flush. Of course, I’m gawking. Theo Silva was the hottest man I’d ever seen back then, and he still is now.
He winks at me.
I roll my eyes.
And then I turn, march up to the door and ring the doorbell. I know Rob is home because I called the hospital and asked my favorite charge nurse to confirm. It takes him a while to get to the door because the house is obnoxiously large.
When he answers, he’s wearing a pink polo shirt and a pair of white shorts. His hair is perfectly coiffed to cover his receding hairline.
I almost recoil at the sight of him, but it’s not just physical. Rob has shown his true colors in recent months, and they’re ugly.
This man is rotten to his core.
Just like the vase of dead, musty flowers I’m holding.
“Winter.” He looks smug until his eyes trail behind me and he notes the audience.
This is a man who thrived on me being isolated, having no one. And here I am, with people who love and support me. Who show up for me even when I’m not at my best.
His grin melts away, like a pretty mask slipping from his face to reveal all the ugliness beneath.
“Hi, Rob.” I hold the flowers out to him.
He takes them before glancing down and realizing they’re decaying. A dry, curled leaf falls at his feet.
“I really enjoyed these. They were beautiful. Then I went out of town with my family for a bit. Came back and saw them like this, all moldy and rotten. Reminded me of you, so I figured I would hand-deliver them.”
“You came here to give me dead flowers?”
I smile. It’s a fake, practiced smile, one I use when a patient is pissing me off. “No, I came to deliver the envelope that’s taped to the front.” I point at the vase. “Right there.”
His face scrunches, but he doesn’t make a move to touch it.
“Summer and I put a lot of work into our affidavits, so I hope you enjoy them. I know the hospital administration and the medical board will.”
A normal person would go white. They’d be terrified. But Rob goes from red to a deep purple. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so angry.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
His voice is pure venom, but he doesn’t scare me anymore. I step closer to him, lifting my chin and narrowing my eyes as I pluck a dead petal off one rose and drop it, watching it fall away like all my loyalty to this man.
I thought I loved him once, but I didn’t know what love was.
I do now though.
“Oh, but I would.” My tone is cool and controlled. It bites. “Because you didn’t just come for me this time, you slimy fucking weasel. You came for my daughter. You came for the man I love. You came for my family. You went too damn far this time.”
“I’m going to—”
I don’t let him get a word in at all. “I haven’t fucked you since the day I found out you were a predator. And now everyone is going to know it.”
I turn and walk away from him, ignoring his curses and threats. The smashing sound of the glass vase does nothing but make me smile. I feel like I tossed a grenade into that depressing house and walked away.
I feel free.
Vivi’s birthday party is perfect.
Everyone has pitched in to make turning one a special occasion for her. She looks precious in her sundress, covered in a print of oranges and leaves. The decorations are hysterical. Custom printed—compliments of Willa—with photos of Vivi’s favorite thing in the world . . . Peter. And the setting at Wishing Well Ranch is perfect, just like the weather. Our end-of-summer heat is warm but not unbearable, and the smell of freshly cut hay permeates the air.
Rhett set up the big white tent on the back field near the main ranch house, and everyone who’s here is family, in some way or another.
Loretta. The Eatons. Theo, who keeps trying to carry Vivi around with him, but she went from walking to running pretty damn fast and gets a thrill out of making her dad chase her. His mom gets a kick out of it too. Tells him it’s payback for the way he was as a toddler.
She keeps us on our toes.
Willa baked the cake. Summer and Sloane decorated. Cade is manning the barbecue. Jasper is playing a game of field hockey with Luke, who just yelled, “Oh, fuck off!” when he thought he was going to score on Jasper, but didn’t. Harvey made a bowl of punch that tastes like fruit juice, but I suspect contains far more alcohol than necessary for a one-year-old’s birthday celebration.
Beau has yet to show up.
“Harvey, how much booze is in what I’m drinking right now?”
He grins over at me from where we’re leaning against the fence. “Enough to take the edge off for you.”
“What edge? I’m relaxed. If you take too much edge off me, I might spill your beans just to get even.”
His brows lift as he takes a sip out of his red Solo cup. “What beans?”
I smirk and drink again. “The you and Cordelia beans.”
He chokes on his drink, and I slap his back while he thumps a fist on his chest.
“Oof. Okay, well, no one would forgive me for killing you, so maybe I’ll just keep that one to myself. Though I’m really not sure how no one has noticed.”
Harvey clears his throat and glances around at the group of family and friends. Music plays. Burgers get flipped. Everyone carries on in the most comfortable sort of rhythm. “Same way they never noticed Vivi is a tiny version of her dad. They weren’t looking.”
I nod, staring at Theo holding his mini-me as they cheer Luke on to get a ball past Jasper.
“I’m not ready to tell them yet,” Harvey says after a few beats of silence.
“I was joking.”
“It feels off-limits. Her being who she is. But sometimes—”
“Sometimes things just happen, and you don’t realize how right they are until you’re in the thick of it.”
He gives me a grunt and a nod from where we stand, propped against the fence.
I break the tension with, “Is there a geriatric version of the procreation prowl?”
This time, he doesn’t choke. He tips his head back and howls. “Girl, did you really just say that to me?”