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She didn’t know.

Three weeks wasn’t long enough to answer a question that big. But as Pip sighed in her sleep and instinctively snuggled closer, Vivian couldn’t deny one simple truth.

For the first time since Phil died, picturing a future that held more than just her and Pip no longer felt like a betrayal.

It felt like hope.

Chapter Nine

Dean leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his jaw, staring at the scouting reports scattered across his desk without really seeing them.

He found it hard to concentrate these days, constantly distracted by a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty. Dean grinned to himself as he recalled the last lunch he’d shared with Vivian at her place.

He’d shown up at her house that Tuesday, strapping a tool belt around his waist before knocking on her door. She laughed when she saw him.

“You called for a handyman, ma’am?” he’d twanged.

Vivian had contended he didn’t need to do her chores for her, but he’d insisted. He hadn’t dived too deep into his motivations at the time. She had things she couldn’t do that he could. It had been as simple as that.

Now, though, he realized it wasn’t that simple at all.

Dean had done those chores because he cared about her, and he didn’t want to live in any world where Vivian felt frustrated or overwhelmed or tired. Not when he was willing to help her. She mattered to him. That was a foreign feeling, but there was no denying it was there.

Dean opened his phone, flipping through his photos until he found a selfie he’d snapped of him and Vivian together, standing in front of the bookshelf he’d helped her assemble. He pretended he was taking it as a way to commemorate them building a masterpiece, but the truth was, it had occurred to him that morning that he didn’t have a picture of just the two of them together, and he wanted one.

Dean grinned again when he caught sight of the kitchen counter in the background of the photo. The same counter where Dean had bent Vivian over following their carpentry project and taken her with a hunger he’d never experienced in his life.

“Shit,” he muttered, forcing himself to close his phone. He was never going to get any damn work done today at this rate.

He glanced at his computer, grimacing when he saw he had an email from McKenna, outlining upcoming promotional campaigns. It wasn’t unusual for her to email him and the coaching staff, but seeing her name now triggered an unwanted emotion.

Guilt.

Ever since he’d started seeing Vivian, he hadn’t made nearly enough time for McKenna. Before his own secret relationship—and McKenna’s very-much-not-a-secret romance with Tank—he and his daughter had fallen into a familiar routine. At least once or twice a week, one of them would wander into the other’s office around lunchtime or quitting time with a casual, “You hungry?”

His gaze drifted to the framed photo on the corner of his desk. It was from last year—he and McKenna were smiling at the camera, both wearing Stingrays hoodies at one of Victor’s fall firepit nights.

He’d always enjoyed having meals with McKenna, but somehow that had fallen away over the past few months.

He tried to tell himself it wasn’t entirely his fault. The Stingrays’ season had bounced from one extreme to the other since opening night, and everyone in hockey operations had been working ridiculous hours trying to steady the ship.

His new guys, Dominic and Jordan, had serious talent, bringing speed, skill, and a level of competitiveness the roster needed. But talent didn’t automatically translate into chemistry. Finding the right combinations, getting the new guys to mesh with the established lines, figuring out who complemented whom, took time and patience.

Everyone was stretched thin.

Even so, work wasn’t the only reason he’d stopped spending time with McKenna, and the irony wasn’t lost on him.

For the past month, he’d tied himself into knots, worrying that Vivian would decide what they had wasn’t worth the risk. She had asked to keep their dating a secret in an attempt to protect Pip. Hell, he respected her reason and appreciated her honesty.

While he was trying to build a relationship with McKenna now, it had definitely been bordering on too little, too late. He’d missed so much of McKenna’s life, not truly reaching out until her high school graduation, and he’d only gone to that because she’d made the first move, sending him an invitation.

Every week that passed without him spending quality time with McKenna only justified his fears more. He was still failing on the “dad” front. Sure, she was an adult, but he knew for a fact Ellie called to touch base with her almost daily. His gaze drifted to the clock on his computer screen—11:52.

Close enough to lunch.

He pushed away from his desk and stood, stretching until his back gave a satisfying pop. Maybe he could accomplish one productive thing today.

Grabbing his phone, he headed for the elevator. If McKenna was in her office, maybe she’d be willing to duck across the street to the café with him. Just the two of them. They could talk about hockey, give each other grief, maybe she’d tell him whatever ridiculous thing Tank had done this week.