Page 23 of Something Borrowed

“Have you always lived here?” Vic asked through a mouthful of pizza, then blushed. “Sorry.” She swallowed. “Have you always lived here?”

Cal wanted to tell her he didn’t care if she talked with her mouth full. It was just nice to have someone who wanted to chat.

“Yeah, off and on. My parents split when I was twelve and my mom moved to Vancouver. I alternated years with each of them.” My parents split. Such a simple-sounding, innocuous statement for something that had taken so long for him to get over. Not that them living together had been any easier.

Vic nodded slowly and wiped her hands on a napkin. “That must’ve been very hard on you.”

He was about to say, Nah, it was fine, and was surprised by what came out instead. “It was. Thanks.”

They each reached for a slice of the pepperoni mushroom at the same time, and their hands brushed. Their eyes met, and Cal wished he’d sat beside her on the couch. He was out of practice, for sure, but even he could feel this was the perfect moment to lean in and—

“Shoot!” Vic jerked her hand away and shoved her blanket off. “I totally forgot to ask if you want something to drink.” She hopped up and left the room. When she returned, she had a tray bearing two diet Cokes, a regular ginger ale, a pomegranate juice, and a beer.

She looked self-consciously down at the offerings. “I guess I could’ve asked you what you wanted before I went.”

“You never know,” he said, grabbing a Coke. “We might want multiple beverages.”

“True.” Her smile was wry, but at least it was there again. “Very true.”

“So, you grew up here?” he asked, continuing the conversation that they’d interrupted.

“Yeah, more or less. I moved away as soon as I graduated, though.”

“Bright lights, big city?”

“Not even close.” She shook her head and picked up the pomegranate juice.

Twisting off the lid, she added, “Motherhood and, I hoped, wifehood—is that even a word? I don’t know. But it’s what I wanted.”

Somewhere in her sentence, Cal had lost the plot. She graduated and moved away because she wanted to be a mom and get married? That seemed like something you stayed in your hometown to do if your heart was set on it right after high school.

“Really? That surprises me.”

Vic flashed him a hard-to-read look. “Does it? Why?”

Cal tried to think of how to articulate it. He waved his hand, motioning from her head to her feet. “You’re just so . . . glamorous or something. With your Gucci and your Louis Vuitton—”

“With my Gucci and my Louis Vuitton, hey?” Her eyebrow arched and her voice was teasing, but not mean.

“I know what designer is. I have a sister.”

Vic laughed and lightly touched the rolled cuff of his flannel shirt. He was glad he’d worn one of his new ones. “This is better than Gucci, believe me. You know what they say, right?”

“No clue.” He was already grinning, anticipating a joke.

“Flannel on a man is like lingerie for women.”

“Is it now? Well, in that case, some lady is in for a hot treat. I always wear something a little more comfortable.” He winked.

He thought about taking her hand but wasn’t sure how it would be received.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for,” he said. “That you didn’t have kids or get married, or whatever. Unless you were married—or are?” Damn. He hadn’t considered that. Maybe that was why she was in Greenridge helping her mom. Maybe she was married and just going through some upset.

“Not married, no.”

Cal exhaled in relief, then wondered if Vic noticed.

“But I have a kid,” she added. “He’s thirty-five.”