Despite my mood, I felt a grin tug on my lips. My mother was one of the few people who called me Vince. And certainly the only person who spoke to me as if I were still a kid.
After the fiasco with Liv, I had gone to see my parents. They lived close, and I didn’t want to be alone. I spent a few hours with my dad in his shop, helping him with a project and talking to him about the massive undertaking Bentley was involved in with his latest project. My dad was excited when I asked him to be part of the team I was creating to do all the intricate woodwork the units would require.
“I’ll ask a few of my buddies to pitch in,” he offered, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. “They’d love to be part of such a huge project.”
I clapped him on the shoulder as Mom called dinner was ready. “I was counting on it.”
I was mostly quiet during dinner and didn’t eat as much as usual, which led to my mother’s inquiry.
My dad chuckled and sipped his coffee. “She’s right, Van. You might as well tell her. She’ll follow you home, still talking, otherwise.”
I leaned my elbow on the table with a frustrated sigh. “I screwed up something today. Big-time.”
“Work or personal?”
I met my mother’s direct gaze. “Personal. But it involves work as well.”
She regarded me wisely. “You finally did something about your feelings for Liv?”
I leaned back in my chair with a huff. “Seriously, how did you know?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m your mother. I know you better than you know yourself. You’ve liked this woman from the moment you met her. Whenever you spoke about her, your tone was different. You were different.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
She patted my cheek. “You had to figure it out for yourself. Now tell me what you did.”
She listened as I told her, pursing her lips when I mentioned Vicky. She let me get it all out before she spoke.
“First off,” she began, “you were right to be cautious when it comes to that woman. I remember everything she did. Second, while I understand your first concern was Liv and Sammy, it’s obvious Liv has some past trauma that your behavior triggered.”
“I only wanted to get Vicky away from Liv.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I spoke to Mark, and he said he thought Vicky was sincere. He said their conversation was pretty frank last night. I didn’t know it at the time, and I certainly didn’t mean to frighten Liv.”
Mom patted my hand in sympathy. “I know. You need to let her calm down, then speak to her. It sounds as if she went through more than you know about, and she needs to work it through in her head. I’m sure once she calms down and you talk, things will get back on track.”
“I hope so.”
“You really like this woman.”
“She’s amazing. And Sammy is beyond adorable.”
“I want to meet them.”
I had to chuckle—I knew she’d want to get to know them. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I need to talk to Liv and get her to forgive me.”
“Give her some time, Vince. Don’t force her. I get the feeling she has had that happen far too often in her life.”
I nodded in silent agreement. I hated thinking what Liv had gone through. I loathed the fact that my behavior triggered bad memories for her. I wanted to be a positive force in her life, not one that brought her more worries or fear.
I drained my coffee. “I’ll be as patient as I can be.”
Mom fixed me a look. “Can you?”
I shrugged.
For Liv, I would try. I might not succeed, but I would try.
* * *
Monday, I was unsure how to handle Liv at work. I had spent the rest of Sunday evening working on the bookcase to stay busy and stop myself from going to Liv’s place and refusing to leave until she talked to me, knowing it would only make things worse. My mom was correct, and I needed to give Liv some space and time, but I was resolved to at least attempt to apologize and get her to listen to me.
I had added several layers of varnish to the bookcase, making sure to seal in the glitter so it would last Sammy a long time. Regardless of what happened with Liv, I had promised Mouse I would make it for her, and I refused to break my promise.
I heard Liv’s voice down the hall, and I knew we would be seeing each other at the meeting. Plus, we had plans with Bentley to drive to the cabin the next day, so we would be forced to be in close proximity then. I couldn’t apologize with him around, but I hoped she would give me a chance at some point today to speak my mind.
Finally, about three, she came to my office, her hands filled with files. She hesitated at the door when she saw Jordan wasn’t at his desk, but I waved her in. I was on the phone, and I took advantage of the one-sided conversation to study her.
She looked as tired as I felt, and although I was sorry she was exhausted, I hoped it meant she was regretting her decision yesterday. That she would listen to me. I finished my call and hung up.
“Liv,” I said quietly.
“Van,” she responded. “I have some sketches of the new project. Bentley asked me to let you have them and see if the moldings are the way you envisioned.”
“You got it done already?” I asked, holding out my hand for the folder. I glanced through the drawings. “These are amazing.”
She nodded, not meeting my eyes. “I couldn’t sleep, so I worked last night.”
I put the folder on my desk. “Liv,” I prompted.
She looked up, her gaze anxious. I could see the slight tremor in her hands, and it took everything in me not to reach across the desk and wrap my hands around hers.
“I want to apologize again for yesterday. I didn’t mean to frighten you or make you think I questioned your decision-making capabilities. I respect you too much to ever do that. You have proven to me time and again how intelligent you are.” I huffed. “Vicky caused so much trouble for my friends, and when I saw her beside you, all I could think was she was going to mess up the best thing I’ve had in my life in a very long time. I was horrified thinking what lies she would be telling you, and what she might say around Sammy. Her words are pure venom. Or at least, they used to be, which is why I acted the way I did. I know I should have controlled my temper better, and I’m sorry.”
I leaned forward, my elbows on the desk. “Please don’t throw away something with so much promise because I acted like a jerk. The history I have with her overrode everything else. My first instinct was to protect you and Sammy. I didn’t mean for you to think I was questioning your parenting skills or your thought processes. I knew how she worked, and I reacted.” I held her gaze. “If I felt you and Sammy were in any danger—however slight or misconceived on my part—I would step in, because it’s how I work. And why I reacted the way I did.”
“I know,” she stated quietly.
My eyebrows shot up. “You do?”
“Yes. I thought about it a lot. I spoke to my mom and told her. She informed me I overreacted as well, and I wasn’t giving you the benefit of the doubt. She said I was reacting to the behavior of men in my past, not you.”
“Liv.” I breathed her name. “Tell me you forgive me, and we can move on. I hate this feeling of being separate from you.” My fingers flexed on the desk. “I want to hold you. I need to kiss you.”
She sighed. “I do forgive you. I apologize as well.”
Before I could react, she held up her hand. “But I need to think this over, Van. Maybe I’m not ready for a relationship.”
“We’ll take it slow. I already told you that. Whatever pace you need—please don’t shut me out.”
She smiled sadly. “The problem is, I don’t think there is a slow with you. Now that we’ve flipped that switch, it’s as if I’m full steam ahead when I’m around you. You’re like a flame I want to hold, but I know I’m going to get burned.”
I shook my head, my voice low and serious. “You won’t. I need you to tell me your story—all of it. Tell me why you’re so skitt
ish and let me help you figure us out. We’re good together. All three of us.” I took a chance and grabbed her hand, holding it tight. “God, Liv, one day and I missed you and Sammy. All I wanted was to come talk to you and make it right. That has to count for something.”
She looked down at our hands. “It does.”
I withdrew my touch, sensing her hesitation. “But it’s not enough?”
She stood. “I need a little time, Van. Just a little time. Can you give me that?”
Her voice was pleading, her eyes conflicted. But they weren’t angry. She needed time, and I could give her that.
“If you say I’m forgiven, I can give you some space.”
“You are forgiven, but yesterday did frighten me, and I need to think.”
I hated the thought I had frightened her. But I knew she had to figure this out without my pushing her.
I heard Jordan’s voice in the hall, approaching the office. I stood, holding the file she had brought me. “Thank you.”
She walked toward the door.
“Liv,” I called.
She turned.
“I’ll give you time, but I can’t promise I’ll be patient. You’re too special. You and Mouse. I want you to know that.”
She hurried away, but I saw her smile.
I sat down, feeling torn. Things weren’t as dark as they seemed yesterday, but was it enough?
* * *
Liv
When Van pulled up on Tuesday morning, I was surprised to see him alone. He stepped out of the truck, rounding the front. He was wearing jeans, and his denim shirt was stretched across his broad chest and shoulders, pulling slightly at the seams.
“Change of plans,” he announced. “Bentley called just before I got here. They’re on their way to the hospital.”
“Oh.”
“He asked if next week was okay.”
I went through my schedule in my head. “Yeah. My mom is still in town to help with the day care drop-off, so it should be good.”
He opened the door for me, offering his hand to help me up. I tamped down the feeling of disappointment he hadn’t lifted me in again. He was following my request for time, after all.
He eased himself behind the wheel, checked his mirrors, then swung the truck around.
“Van, the office is the other way.”
He looked mischievous. “No one is expecting us, Liv. We’re playing hooky, and I’m taking you for coffee.”
“Coffee,” I repeated.
“Yep. Coffee. Two people drinking caffeine, getting to know each other.”
I felt a grin tug at my lips. He made it sound so simple and innocent. Yet, knowing him, I knew it was neither.
He chuckled and patted my leg. “C’mon, Liv. It’s coffee. What could possibly happen?”
I had no response.
At the restaurant, I followed him to a booth. He waited as I slid in, then took a seat opposite me. He filled the bench, his massive shoulders looking even bigger in the enclosed space. I noticed a cut on his wrist as he handed me a menu. His wound looked raw and sore. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand. “What happened?”
He shrugged, staring at my fingers as they traced the cut. “Saw slipped—the edge caught me.”
“It should be covered.”
“Oh. I thought it needed to air.”
Clucking my tongue, I dug through my purse, pulling out a small first aid kit. He watched, amused, as I cleaned his wrist with an alcohol wipe, then dabbed some antiseptic ointment on it, and covered it with a bandage.
“You have an entire clinic in your bag, Livvy?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
I shook my head. “Part of the job, both as a designer and a mother. Someone is always getting cuts or scrapes.”
“I’ll remember that in the future when I’m bleeding.” He flexed his hand, then reached across the table and squeezed my fingers. “Thanks.”
“Keep it covered and clean. I’ll check it tomorrow.”
He bent his head to study the menu. “I look forward to it.”
His hand stayed where it was, covering mine, and for some reason, I let it. When the huge breakfast he ordered arrived, he gave my fingers a final squeeze. My fingers felt cold without his warmth.
He frowned at the bagel and fruit I had ordered.
“That’s not breakfast, Livvy. That’s a snack.”
I chuckled. “I had coffee and cereal earlier with Sammy.”
He rolled his eyes. “With the energy you put out in a day, you need more protein.” He sliced off a wedge of his omelet and slid it onto my plate. He added a couple strips of bacon, then satisfied, went back to eating.
“I can’t eat your breakfast.”
“It’s yours now. You never eat enough. I need you healthy and strong.”
I picked up the bacon and nibbled at it, shutting my eyes as the flavor filled my mouth. “I love bacon,” I admitted.
“Then why didn’t you get some?”
I shifted, feeling uncomfortable. “I watch what I eat. My weight has always been a sore spot for me.”
He stopped chewing, laying down his utensils. He swallowed, then hunched over the table, his eyes boring into mine. “Your weight—you—are perfect. I appreciate you want to be healthy, but there is nothing wrong with you. I love how you look. How you feel. Everything about you. Understood? Whatever, whoever, put such a crazy notion in your head—they were wrong. You are beautiful. Exactly the way you are. Got it?”
I blinked. Swallowed. Stared at him. His gaze was intense and steady, his words firm. Finally, I whispered, “Got it.”
“Good.” He raised his hand, beckoning the waitress. “Another order of bacon, please. And may I have more coffee?”
She winked. “Sure, hun. Need to fuel that furnace of yours, eh?”
He picked up his fork with a grin, throwing me a wink.
“Oh, it’s fueled. I’m just waiting for the spark. I’m all set to explode.”
I tried not to laugh.
I failed.
* * *
Sunday morning, I shifted on the park bench, waving at Sammy as she hung upside down. I covered my mouth, trying to hide the continuous yawns that kept escaping.
I wasn’t sleeping well. I kept busy during the days, but once Sammy had gone to bed and I was alone, my thoughts were filled with Van. If I was being honest, he crept into my head during the day as well, but it was easier to push those thoughts aside when I had something else to concentrate on.
He stuck to his promise, giving me space and not pushing me. Aside from our coffee date on Tuesday, we hadn’t been alone. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t trying.
Every day, he brought me coffee and a treat from the café. They waited on my desk each morning. Twice, a small bunch of flowers had appeared. A pretty new day planner showed up in the middle of my desk, with penciled-in V’s filling in upcoming weekends and evenings. I was touched he remembered my need to jot down notes to jog my memory. And his gift made me smile.
Regardless of where he was working from during the day, he called me every afternoon at two. He asked the same questions.
“How’s your day going, Livvy?”
“How’s Mouse?”
“Anything you need?”
And he always finished the call the same way.
“I loved hearing your voice, and I miss you. I’ll call you tonight if that’s okay.”
“Yes,” I would reply.
“Okay. You know where I am if you need me.”
Indeed, I did. I felt his presence everywhere. It was as if my body was tuned to his. I knew when he was in his office. I felt his absence when he left the building. I longed for two o’clock every day, and my nights were no longer complete without his call.
The evening calls were different. Personal. He talked about his life in the band. Shared amusing stories of life on the road. Talked about his parents. Asked me countless questions about growing up and Sammy when she was a baby. It was as if he wanted to know
as much about us as possible. I told him things I had never told anyone, and he listened.
One night, he called earlier than normal. Sammy was still awake, and I put him on speaker. They talked for over thirty minutes. I realized it was the first time I had ever heard her talk to someone for that long aside from my mother or me.
She was more than attached already.
And I was beginning to think I was as well.
I passed a weary hand over my face, feeling confused.
How had Van Morrison slipped so deeply under my skin without me even realizing it?
Then, as if I had conjured him up, he was there. Standing beside the park bench, a tray of steaming coffees in one hand and a brown bag in the other.
I blinked at him in surprise.
He looked nervous and worried.
“I wanted to come and say hi. I thought we could have coffee together while you watched Mouse.” He hesitated. “If that’s okay?”
The words were out before I could think. “Yeah. More than okay.”
His smile was brilliant. He sat beside me, handing me a cup. Then he dug into the bag and handed me one of his favorite lemon Danishes. Sammy spotted him and, with a whoop of delight, ran toward us. Van set down the food and met her partway, bending low to catch her. I felt a lump build in my throat. He was as happy to see her as she was to see him. He brought her to the bench and sat her on his knee, listening to her rapid conversation as she tried to fill him in on her life since she last saw him.
“Whoa, take a breath, Sammy,” I chuckled.
“But, Mommy, I have to tell Mr. Van about the spelling bee! I won second place!”
He ruffled her hair. “Good job, Mouse.”
She grimaced. “The last word was too hard. But Mommy says I learned something new.” She peeked into the bag. “Is one of these for me?”
He chuckled and handed her another lemon Danish, then opened a small container of milk. He pulled out the last Danish, and together, they munched. There was a running commentary between bites, and I was content to sip my coffee and watch them together. Van’s immense form filled the park bench, and Sammy looked so small on his knee. He kept one arm wrapped around her in a protective gesture, and my heart warmed at the sight. He listened intently, although his gaze drifted to me often. When she finished her snack, she jumped up, demanding he watch her as she went back to playing.
Vested Interest Box Set Books 4-7 Page 35
