Wham! The ball comes out of nowhere and smacks my head.
Romy comes running. “Mr. Welles, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were looking away.”
Tripp jogs over, nudging me with his elbow. “Not your fault. Mr. Welles here is a little distracted. With any luck, you’ve knocked some sense into him.”
A few minutes ago I told him the truth about Vivienne. His disapproval was obvious, but he couldn’t do much more than shake his head. After all, just a few years ago, he was lying to Jolie about his own name.
I rub my ear, feeling a redness to my face that has nothing to do with the impact of the soccer ball. I grin at Romy. “No harm, no foul.”
Her laugh is carried away by the ocean breeze as she looks from me to her father. “Can I go over to Zoe’s house? She said I could feed her bearded dragon.”
“If it’s okay with your m—”
Tripp hasn’t finished answering Romy’s question before she runs toward the house, shouts something at Jolie, and then takes off down the beach. I stay silent as Tripp’s eyes track his daughter until she meets up with another girl, a couple of houses down and they go inside together.
He releases a deep exhale. “Of all the things I do every day, watching that little girl run away from me is always the hardest.”
“I can’t even imagine.” Tripp and I are about the same age, and yet, he has a wife, an almost teenager, and an infant.
“Maybe you should start. Or that’s what you’ll be doing with Vivienne next month.” At my scowl, he lifts his empty beer. “Want another one?”
“Sure.”
I follow him across the sand and up the steps of his deck. He grabs two bottles from the outdoor kitchen, hands one to me, and we join his wife and Vivienne.
“How’s your head?” Jolie asks, a knowing smile perched on her lips.
“Exactly how it should be after taking my eye off the ball.”
“I don’t know about that.” She glances at Vivienne. “Seems to me you had your eyes on something more important.”
Vivienne’s cheeks flush pink, and she looks down at Joey, tickling his belly. The baby laughs, immediately dissolving the tension that had crept in.
“Best sound in the world,” Tripp murmurs, planting a lingering kiss on Jolie’s head. There is an easy affection between Tripp and Jolie, but it’s noticeably underscored by their deep connection.
An unexpected bolt of longing stabs the back of my neck and travels the length of my spine. Envy for what these two have found in each other. Desire for the life they’ve created together.
And very little hope I’ll ever have it myself.
“Is he always this happy?” Joey is holding one of Vivienne’s fingers in each of his fists, a gummy grin stretching between his cheeks.
“No,” Jolie says emphatically, her hand squeezing Tripp’s thigh as she leans against him. “He didn’t sleep more than two hours at a stretch for months, and if he wasn’t nursing or sleeping, he was screaming. That phase of my life is just one long blur.”
“I bought a treadmill desk, so I could strap him into a baby carrier and get some work done,” Tripp adds. The surprise must show on my face because he laughs. “I think we may be the only dual career parents on the Forbes 400 list who refuse to hire full-time help with their kids, but . . . ”
“After losing so much of Romy’s childhood, neither one of us is willing to sacrifice any more than we already have. We make it work.”
“You make it look easy,” Vivienne says.
Jolie laughs the comment off. “You haven’t spent enough time with us. I’m sure I wasn’t too cute at four a.m. this morning when Joey peed on me while I was changing his diaper.”
Tripp throws his arm around her. “I beg to differ.”
She rolls her eyes. “Only because I had to take my top off.”
“That didn’t hurt.”
I finish the rest of my beer and put the glass down on the table. My brain is completely scattered right now. Vivienne is right—Tripp and Jolie make their complicated lives seem easy. “On that note, we should probably head out.”
Jolie looks disappointed. “Oh no, I hope we didn’t scare you off.”
Vivienne stands up and hands the baby back to Jolie. “Don’t worry. I assure you, it takes more than talk of topless women to scare Lance off.”
“Good. Because you need to come back. We’re planning to renovate the house over the winter, so I’ve been working with a design team on the plans. They were out here last week taking measurements and things.” Jolie looks appealingly at Vivienne. “We’re still going back and forth with the architectural details, but I’d love to get your impression on the mood boards and fabric swatches they’re sending this week. I still have baby brain, and I’m worried I’ll wind up with a house that looks like a little boy’s nursery.”
“Are you sure?” Vivienne asks. “I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. Most designers are very touchy about the opinions of anyone other than their clients.”
“Don’t worry about that. It will be our secret.”
Vivienne forces an amenable smile, but I can read her thoughts.
Just what we need. More secrets.
Chapter 31
Lance
37 DAYS UNTIL LABOR DAY
As I slow to a walk after a punishing run along the beach, I strip off my sneakers and shorts and make use of the outdoor shower on the side of the house. After rinsing off the sweat I’d worked up, I decide to cool down with a few laps in the pool.
It’s impossible not to remember the night I spent with Vivienne here. There are a dozen jets of water arranged along the interior walls of the pool, but every time I swim past one in particular, I swear the pressure hits me like a fire hose.
The benefit of a hard workout is a clear head, but I’ve had little clarity since meeting Vivienne.
And absolutely no problem getting hard.
Ten laps, twenty laps. Thirty. Fifty.
I swim until my lungs are working overtime, my brain consumed with each stroke, each breath, each flip turn.
When I finally decide I’ve had enough, instead of hitting the wall, my hands slide over something much softer and smoother.
I open my eyes. Vivienne’s calves are dangling in the water, her knees at eye level. I don’t even think. I’m running on the dregs of adrenaline, and my brain is on autopilot.
My hands quickly part her legs and then slide back along the sides of her thighs, my palms curving over her ass and shifting her forward. “I’m fucking starving for you, Red.” I have just enough self-control to dare a glance at her face. Vivienne’s expression is caught somewhere between startled and very, very aroused. “Please, let me taste you.”
“We shouldn’t,” she whispers.
“Nothing else. Just this. Just my mouth on your pussy. Tell me you don’t want it as much as I do.”
“It’s not about what I want, it’s—”
“Yes, it is. Life is so fucking short, Vivienne. And I’ve never wanted a woman more than I want you.”