Chapter Eighteen
That steely resolve he’d seen had faded the next night as he helped Vivien through the fence from his house to his mother’s.
“I still can’t believe you like your mom enough to have adjoining backyards,” Vivien said.
He shrugged. “It’s easier for me to keep an eye on her and vice versa. Despite the proximity, Mama and I don’t see that much of each other. She spends a lot of time at her artist co-op or going to work with kids at the local library.”
The brick townhouse was similar to his in design, but where his backyard was mostly bare of plants, his mother’s flowerbeds overflowed with cheerful flowers and ivy. The yards gave her enough room to make them showpieces without being overwhelming. Even when he wasn’t around, he didn’t have to worry about her being alone here. Everywhere you turned, someone was out walking or gardening or chatting with the neighbors.
“Still up for this, pretty girl? Not too late to run back in. I can come up with a convincing excuse.” Liam took her hand, waiting to see if she’d pull away. She didn’t, telling him just how nervous she was. Viv refused to engage in PDA outside his house. Inside the house, well that was a different matter. He was still exhausted from the level of affection she’d demonstrated this morning. And this afternoon. And an hour before they were supposed to leave. But there was something missing, something she wasn’t telling him. He couldn’t figure it out, but it niggled at the back of his mind since yesterday and he couldn’t shake it.
Vivien straightened a bit, a small waterfall of hair flowing over her shoulder, the red vibrant against her deep-blue silk blouse. He tried to convince her T-shirts were fine, but she reminded him that he thought T-shirts were universally acceptable fashion choices. At least she’d worn jeans.
“I don’t need you to make excuses, nerd boy. Let’s get this over with.”
“There you two are!” His mother threw open the back door before he had a chance to knock. She drew Vivien into a hug the second they entered the cozy living room, causing Vivien’s eyes to widen in surprise. “Vivien, it’s so good to finally meet you.”
Vivien awkwardly returned the hug. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Ms. Hale.”
“Oh, please, call me Diana. Ms. Hale makes me feel old and stuffy.”
His mom pulled away, a huge smile on her face. He’d brought a few other women over to meet his mom over the years, but she never looked half this enthusiastic about it before.
“Diana,” Vivien said, her smile only a little bit strained. “Thank you for inviting me over.”
“I’m so glad you could come. Greer and Eli are in the kitchen helping me get the food to the table. I hope you like chicken-fried steak.”
“Making my favorite food? What’d I do to earn such a treat?” Liam asked, accepting his mom’s hug, kissing her proffered cheek.
Seeing his mother next to Vivien, he was struck by the contrast between them. His blue-collar, welcoming mother with her short gray-threaded brown hair was still a classic beauty, but she projected an air of comfort and warmth that stood out next to Vivien’s cool, crisp style. Diana Hale never met a colorful print she didn’t like, as evidenced by her orange, yellow, and red gypsy skirt and peasant top. A hair-dresser by trade, an artist by choice, his mother embraced colors, even if they were a bit eccentric, where Vivien kept to the contemporary and the solid, wearing anything that portrayed the modern sensibility of female power.
“Who said it’s a treat for you? A mother doesn’t give treats to sons who haven’t been by to see her in weeks.” Trying for a look of disapproval, Diana failed miserably, linking arms with Liam and Vivien to lead them through to the open dining room.
A large, well-polished butcher-block table of mismatched woods, surrounded by a hodgepodge of wooden chairs painted faded-pastel colors that all complemented the pale sunshine yellow of the walls. Knickknacks and trinkets she’d collected over the years studded the walls, just as a medley of dishes adorned the table.
“You have such a lovely home,” Vivien said, genuine admiration in her tone. Liam doubted her friends in New York had parents so committed to reusing and refurbishing vintage pieces they’d collected over the years with what little money they could scrape together.
His mother beamed with pride. “Thank you, sweetheart. Please, have a seat. What would you like to drink? I’ve got wine, beer, sodas, sweet tea.”
“Sweet tea would be wonderful,” Vivien said.
Liam put a hand on his mother’s arm, stopping her in place. “I’ll get the drinks, Mama. You sit.”
He walked into the spacious kitchen to find Eli sauntering toward him, a platter full of chicken-fried steak balanced in one hand, a basket of fluffy rolls in the other. Greer stood at the stove, scooping fried okra up off a cookie sheet into a brightly colored ceramic dish. “Wow. She went all out on this, huh?”
“Your mom doesn’t do anything halfway, Hale, I’ll give you that.” Eli grinned. “I haven’t had a meal that smelled this good since the last time I visited home.”
Greer glanced over her shoulder at Liam. “I still can’t believe you got my sister to agree to this. It’s so…not Viv. Monroes don’t do family dinners.”
Liam flinched. Maybe he should have used Vivien’s initial doubts as an excuse to put his mother off for a while. Then again, his mother didn’t give up easily. Whether it was him finishing his homework or her running her own business, she never stopped until she achieved her goals. If he tried to delay her meeting Vivien, he wouldn’t put it past her to show up at MT and not leave until she spoke to Vivien. His mother running amok was the last thing they needed right now between the hackers and Barton doing their best to cause as much trouble as possible.
Either way, he was beginning to prepare himself for the fact that tonight could make Vivien bolt. Dealing with her father’s company, seeing her sister day in and day out was already straining her control more than she probably wanted to admit.
“Go easy on your sister tonight. She won’t let on, but she’s scared shitless by all this.” Liam hoped the warning wasn’t necessary, but the sisters’ relationship still fell under the heading of volatile. One second, they got along fine. The next, barbs flew faster than bullets in a first-person shooter game.
Greer gave a little snort, her green eyes hardened with a trace of bitterness. “Nothing scares my sister, Liam. But don’t worry. I won’t do anything to spoil your fun.”
…
“Vivien, I hope you’re not a vegetarian or watching your figure, because I made a good old-fashioned southern dinner.” Diana smiled at her as the others came in bearing dishes full of food and a tray of drinks.
Vivien hesitated, her eyes scanning the food placed around the table between the place settings of sturdy, but pretty, china and silverware. It felt so comfortable and welcoming, but strange at the same time. It was evident from the food piled on the platters that Liam came by his cooking habits honestly. How he managed to stay so fit was a mystery to her. She kept her tone polite and as friendly as her nerves would let her. “I’m not used to so much fried food, but it all looks delicious.”
“Mama makes the best chicken-fried steak in the world,” Liam said, placing a large mason jar mug of iced tea in front of her. He hesitated for a second before dropping a kiss on her forehead. He’d been doing that a lot the last couple days, as if he was testing her. She might have liked it were it not for the hesitation. “But her mashed potatoes are manna from heaven. I would live on them if I could get away with it.”
“It’s the cream cheese and sour cream I mix in.” Diana took her seat at the head of the table, while Eli and Greer settled themselves in chairs opposite Vivien and Liam.
Vivien didn’t miss the easy way Eli held out Greer’s chair or the pale blush staining her sister’s cheek at the chivalrous gesture. The protective big sister in her said that Eli was too old for Greer; the woman in her admired her geeky little sister for trying to take on a man like Eli. Maybe she should warn Eli away.
No. Not her business. Her relationship with Greer didn’t need to go into that pothole.
She shifted in her chair, trying to ignore the uneasiness. “I’m not going to know what to do with myself when I get back to New York. Between this, your son’s cooking, and our housekeeper’s meals, I’ve been spoiled with good food.”
“Liam? Cooking?” Greer raised a skeptical eyebrow at her friend.
“Yes, brat. I cook. Just not for you.” Liam picked up a roll from the bread basket and tossed it at her sister.
Diana shook her head, passing the potatoes to Vivien. “I swear. You would think they’re still five years old. I tried to teach him better manners, but there’s only so much I could pound into that thick skull of his.”
“He’s not so bad,” Vivien said, an unconscious smile on her lips. Her mind went back to the little things he’d done for her the last few days to make her comfortable in his home; he’d stocked her favorite wine, they’d made dinner together, watched old movies. It certainly felt easier to be there than at Haven or even in her New York penthouse. Guilt tugged at her; she still hadn’t found the guts to tell him about the text or the email. She knew she had to, but it was hard to let go of the peace they’d been enjoying.
“Then again, most southern guys have more manners in their pinkies than some of the men I work with up north. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who made me chicken potpie before.”
Christopher’s idea of a home-cooked meal was paying an exorbitant amount of money to have a fancy restaurant bring him dinner. And the only time she’d ever met his parents was at a corporate function where he introduced her as a “business associate” before promptly hustling them away.
“Whipped out your grandma’s recipe book, huh?” Diana gave her son an approving look. “What about you, Eli? Do you cook?”
Eli’s smile was a little sheepish. “I learned to cook a few basic things in the Navy, and my mama taught me how to make her chicken and dumplings and huevos rancheros, but aside from that, I tend to live off of what I can grill or grab from the drive-through.”
“What do your parents do, dear?”
“My dad was in the Army, so we moved around a lot. Mama stayed at home with the three of us boys. Dad settled down to be police chief in a small town for a while when I was a teenager, but he had to retire for his health. They run a flower shop in a little town about three hours out of Austin now.” Eli passed the potatoes to Greer, their hands brushing a second longer than necessary.
Helping herself to some steak, Diana’s gaze traveled over the table, making sure everyone had everything they needed. It was such a motherly habit that it made Vivien’s chest ache a little.
One of the many reasons she avoided family settings was situation like this. They always reminded her of the experiences her mom never got to have. Meeting Vivien’s (for lack of a better word) boyfriend. Making dinner with both of her girls. Clara would have loved to fuss over her family the way Diana did now, but she’d never gotten the chance.
“Do you cook, Vivien?” Vivien’s defenses instinctively went up, but she reminded herself to relax. The question wasn’t a test; it was an extension of the conversation.
“Um. Not really. I mean, I can make pasta and simple things like that, but nothing like this. I live off of takeout, frozen dinners, and salads. I love cooking shows, but it’s hard to cook for one person, especially in the city.” She took a bite of the chicken-fried steak. Even as her arteries clogged, she moaned at the flavors of crisp breading, tender steak, and creamy gravy. No matter how hard they tried, New York chefs couldn’t recreate the heart of southern cooking the way a real southern mama could.
Diana nodded, taking a sip of her tea. “It must be wonderful, living up in New York. Liam took me there for a visit last year, and it was so vibrant. Don’t get me wrong, I love Dallas, but New York felt like another universe. You must miss it.”
“It certainly is a world of its own. But I don’t know that I miss the rush of city life.” She surprised herself, but since she came down here, she hadn’t once stopped to miss anything about New York itself. Her life there was focused on work. The drive to get back to New York had nothing to do with the place or the people and everything to do with her job. Hell, if it weren’t for her job, she was 98 percent sure she would have left New York as soon as the mess with Christopher blew up in her face.
“Life here is definitely slower.”
“I always wondered why your daddy never moved the company up to New York or out to California.” Diana reached out to pat Liam’s hand. “Not that I don’t love having my boy here, but it is unusual to have a company like MT in Texas.”
Vivien started to answer, but Greer beat her to it. “He didn’t want to leave Mom. Everything she loved was here. He built Haven for her. Moving the company would mean leaving her.”
Temper flared in Vivien. Greer didn’t know what she was talking about. Jed never did anything that didn’t fit into his vision. “I always thought it was because the only ego he wanted to deal with was his own.”
The awkward silence made Vivien feel a little down for snapping, but her sister’s rosy picture of Jed wasn’t Vivien’s.
“Well, while I didn’t know your mother, I know your father always got a special look in his eyes when he spoke of her. He told me a lot of sweet stories about her. Finding a man who loved being a husband so much is rare.” A shadow crossed Diana’s face, but disappeared quickly.
“I think time probably made things rosier in his mind,” Vivien said, looking down at her plate, frantically searching for a way to change the topic. Luckily, Liam stepped in, switching the topic to a funny thing Flynn had done earlier that week.
The conversation continued to drift around, but Vivien only half-heartedly participated. Brooding might not be productive, but the more she thought about it, the more uncomfortable she felt trying to play happy family. This wasn’t her. She didn’t do family dinners with fried foods and ridiculously good mashed potatoes. She did business dinners at five-star restaurants with food most people couldn’t pronounce in microscopic portions with wine that cost more than the yearly salary in some third-world countries.
When the clatter of cutlery finally died down, Diana gave a happy sigh. “So is there anything new going on with you kids? Liam rarely tells me anything about work these days. I know it’s busy, but I feel like I’m in the dark. How have things been since the break-ins?”
Of course, Liam told his mother about the break-ins. He probably told her about his day on a regular basis.
“Things have been about the same,” Vivien said carefully.
Eli nodded. “We’re working with the cops on the break-ins, but unfortunately we don’t have a lot of evidence to work with.”
“About the same?” Greer snorted. “I guess if you mean getting threatening texts and emails is about the same, then yeah, it’s about the same.”
Vivien’s heart stopped and her gaze flew to her sister. Where had that come from? Judging by the mulish expression, it came from Greer being Greer. Vivien could feel Liam’s blue eyes boring into her, but she didn’t turn to look at them. She couldn’t.
“What emails and texts?” Liam bit out.
Eli looked down at his empty plate, clearly uncomfortable. “Oh. Um. Well, Vivien’s received a threatening text, and Greer got a threatening email the other day.”
“But it’s not something you need to worry about,” Vivien added. “Sophia’s got one of her guys trying to trace them.”
“Sophia? Not your Sophia?” Diana said, frowning at her son.
Liam’s shoulder sagged. Clearly, Vivien wasn’t the only one withholding information. “She’s helping us out on some details with the break-ins, Mama. No big deal.”
“You and I will be having words later, mister. The woman who pureed your heart being back on the scene is a big deal.” Diana’s tone didn’t bode well for Liam, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy glaring at Vivien.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Viv?” he demanded.
The accusation in his voice and his body language set her nerves on edge. “Because it wasn’t a big deal. Eli and Sophia are already on the case. It’s not something you could fix, nerd boy.”
“You still should have told me,” Liam insisted, impatience laced through his tone.
Vivien raised an eyebrow. “Like I’m the only one who’s withheld information at this table? I seem to remember being in the dark about a lot for the first few weeks I was here.”
“Oh, I just love nights like this,” Diana said with false cheer, trying to redirect the tension in the air. ‘Should we let our food settle or dive into that wonderful cake Greer made?”
“You made a cake?” Vivien stared at her sister, inexplicable panic starting to bubble inside her. Was she supposed to bring something? Any socialization she did in New York required a charitable donation, not a dessert. Damn it. Of course, her sister would bring a freaking cake. She knew how to do this stupid family stuff.
God, what was she even doing here? She didn’t belong here, trying to be all domestic and normal. It went against instincts she’d spent years carefully cultivating. Families equaled pain. She was better off alone. That’s what she’d convinced herself of years ago, and she couldn’t forget that, not even for a second. Pressing a hand to her chest, she struggled to catch her breath that only seemed to come in short, jerky waves.
“Would you mind if I stepped outside for a minute? I need some air.”
Diana’s brows furrowed in a look identical to her son’s, but she nodded, motioning toward the door. “Of course, honey. Greer, Eli, why don’t we take these dishes into the kitchen?”
Not waiting any longer, Vivien hurried out of the house, struggling for breath as the warm evening air hit her flushed cheeks and filled her lungs. Jesus.
Why was she doing this?
Somewhere along the way, she’d lost focus. She should be in New York or at the very least at Haven trying to make sure all her bases were covered so Simon couldn’t find a reason to deny her partner. She shouldn’t let herself be close enough to a guy that she could even think of going to dinner with his mother or feel bad for not telling him something about her life.
“Viv? Are you okay?” Of course, Liam sounded all concerned and sympathetic and…boyfriend-like. In spite of the annoyance rolling off him in waves, he still put checking on her well-being above venting his frustration.
She opened her mouth to tell him to go back in and leave her the hell alone, but that’s not what came out.
“No. No, I am not okay! I don’t do this, Liam!”
“Do what?” he asked as she started to pace. The rhythm of her wedge heels against the flagstone patio did little to ease the tension vibrating through her.
“This. I don’t freak out. I don’t…I don’t do families.” Waving her arms around to emphasize her point, she continued to pace, if only so she didn’t have to look at him straight on.
Liam, smart guy that he was, didn’t stop her. Instead, he went and sat down on the metal glider. “Why are you freaking out? While I thought dinner went pretty well, I’m pretty sure if anyone should be ranting right now, it should be me. But we’ll get back to that.”
“Of course you thought it went well. That—that in there is your life, Liam. Not mine. I don’t know how to pretend to be a happy family.” Rubbing her chest, she struggled to catch her breath. If anything, she excelled at doing the opposite. She was the unwanted daughter, the other woman, the girl no one ever brought home. Even in college, she managed to keep all her hookups casual and mess-free.
“I can’t sit there and pretend like I’m girlfriend material. I couldn’t even remember to bring something to go with dinner. My baby sister is better at this than I am! Why didn’t you tell me to at least bring a damn bottle of wine?”
Turbulent blue eyes tracked her movements as she continued to pace. Under other circumstances, she would have loved the feeling of him watching her, studying her. Those eyes had the power to send her soaring into a mind-blowing orgasm with little effort. Now, they just stoked the panic rolling inside her, mixing with the heavy chicken-fried steak and potatoes in a dangerous combination.
“This isn’t about a bottle of wine or the cake.”
She wanted to smack him for being so freaking calm, even though he was probably pissed at her, all while she was ready to fly apart at any minute. That unflappability that was so comforting when she told him about Christopher infuriated her now.
“When are you going to let go of whatever it was that caused things to be so weird between you and your dad? When are you going to stop blaming your sister because she had a good relationship with him?”
Vivien stopped, her back to him. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. This has nothing to do with Greer or Jed. This has to do with me trying to be something I’m not.”
“Bullshit.” Liam’s words echoed like a thunderclap through the growing dusk. “This is about you, Greer, and Jed, and the fact that you blame Jed for your mom’s death and what it did to your family. This is about the fact that you shut out everyone, even when it’s a really fucking stupid idea to do so. This is about the fact that you’re letting a somewhat crappy childhood prevent you from forming a human connection with anyone that might actually give a damn about you.”