“Maybe you need to take some time off. Take a vacation,” Pop says.
“Vacation? Are you kidding? We can’t take a vacation. There’s too much to do.” The direction of this conversation is not what I need to hear right now.
“Livie, you haven’t taken a vacation since you and Viv started this company four years ago. You need time to rest. I’m worried about you,” he says.
“Why do you make it sound like I’m going through a terrible divorce and need to lie low for a while?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” I pull the phone from my ear and stare at it, then glance around the shop. He can’t see me, right?
“I can hear the eye roll in your voice. Let’s not forget who raised you.”
I haven’t forgotten. I think about it all the time.
“All I’m saying is there’s such a thing as working too much. You just spent the last however many weeks burning the candle at both ends, and you were shorthanded. It’s too much! You've got to take a break from time to time.”
I sigh into the phone. He gives me this speech sometimes, but I just don’t think he gets what it’s like to run your own business. There is no walking away—how would the work get done?
“Okay, Pop, I’ll think about it, alright?”
“That’s all I’m asking for, kiddo.” We say our goodbyes, and I make my way to where Viv sits by the window.
With a long bohemian skirt hemmed short enough to show off strappy sandals, and a lacy off the shoulder shirt, she looks better suited for the streets of Saint-Tropez than a New York City coffee shop.
Viv sees me and looks up from her phone, offering a small smile.
“You look pretty,” I say, slipping my bag from my shoulder and draping it over the back of my chair.
“Look good, feel good, am I right?” she says with a tilt of her head. “I ordered our usual. Claire is working on them.”
“You’re the best. What’s happening on your phone there that’s got you so focused?”
“My mother. She thinks we need a vacation.” Viv sighs, placing her phone face down on the table. Claire brings our coffees along with a flaky, buttery croissant for me, and a chocolate-filled croissant for Viv.
“Weird. I just talked to Pop about the same thing.” I pull up my shoulders and try to do my best impression of Pop’s raspy old voice. “You've gotta take a break from time to time. Walk away and let your mind just be for a bit.” I let out a breath when I’m done, pick up my coffee, and blow the steam away.
“Shut the front door! Are you serious?” Viv furrows her eyebrows. She scoffs, picking up her phone and facing it towardme so her mother’s texts are visible. Right there, in front of my eyes, is almost precisely what Pop just said to me on the phone minutes ago.
“That sneaky son of a… They planned this assault, didn’t they?”
Viv stares at nothing, nodding her head, lost in thought. A brief contemplative silence falls between us as we peel off flakes of our croissants.
“Do you think they’re right? Wehaven’tbeen on any kind of vacation in years.” Viv says, eyes bouncing between the people on the street outside the window. Abruptly, she turns her attention to me, a wide and beautiful smile stretching across her face. “Remember the last time we went to the Bahamas together before we started Liv + Viv? We got absolutely toasted and went to the resort’s nightclub to dance the night away, and then you disappeared with some guy from… Where was he from?” She snaps her fingers, trying to remember.
“Nashville.”
“Nashville! Yes, yes. Anyway, I vaguely recall—in my drunken stupor—stumbling around looking for you, only to find you and Nashville getting frisky in the sand together! Ugh! That was a fun trip.”
“I don’t have any recollection of this.” I earn myself an incredulous glare. “Fine. You know what Idoremember? I remember feeling like I had sand in my lady bits for days. It was not comfortable. Ten out of ten, wouldnotrecommend. Beach sex is not worth that level of hassle. Also, can we please leave my sex life out of this? I don’t need any reminders of this current dry spell.”
“How long has it been again?” She raises one eyebrow at me. “Maybe we need a vacation so you can get laid.” Viv points a piece of buttery croissant in my direction, then plops it in her mouth.
Unbelievable.
“What about you? When was the last time you had sex?” I throw an accusing look at her, fully expecting her lady cave to be collecting cobwebs just like mine.
She clears her throat, eyes darting to the window and then back to me. “Last night,” she says with a one-shoulder shrug. Cool as a cucumber.
“WHAT?” I whisper. “With whom?”
