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Dean chuckled. “Nice to know Ellie called me up with my own gift to give me holy hell.”

The rest of the meal continued in easy conversation, several folks mentioning what they were thankful for. Mercifully, Victor and Belle didn’t make everyone go around the table and answer that question, because what he was truly thankful for was that September hurricane, but there was no way he could say that out loud.

The dressing competition ended in a tie, which was hilarious to everyone except Jordan and Victor, who were trying to figure out how to break it. Competitive fuckers.

In the end, no one would change their vote, so they were forced to settle for the tie, even though Victor grumbled about them being no better than a bunch of fucking pansy-ass soccer players, content with a draw. Pip’s curse jar had been overflowing at that point.

After clearing the table and divvying the leftovers, a few of the couples said their goodbyes, while some of the single guys, as well as McKenna and Tank, stuck around to play Farkle with Victor and Belle, who were obsessed with the dice game. Pip sat on Belle’s lap, declaring they were a team.

Dean bailed, claiming he was content to watch, then he slipped out of the living room in search of his prey.

He found Vivian alone in the kitchen, wiping a counter that had already been scrubbed.

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the doorframe.

She turned around slowly, not bothering to force a smile. “Hey.”

“Could we talk?” he asked.

She hesitated just long enough he feared she’d reject him outright. Instead, she tossed the dishcloth into the sink. “Okay.”

“I owe you an apology and an explanation.”

Vivian crossed her arms, though he wasn’t sure if the action was one of aggression or self-preservation.

Dean stepped into the room, crossing until he was standing next to her, refusing to let the island create a barrier between them.

“I broke things off because I’d convinced myself I wasn’t what you needed.”

Vivian’s expression tightened. “So you said at the pub.”

“I thought I was being noble, protecting you from me and my workaholic, hockey-obsessed nature.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I wasn’t being noble at all. I was being a coward. The truth is, I was scared. About you and Pip and McKenna. About everything. I kept thinking about all the ways I’d already screwed up, and I thought the only way to make sure I didn’t hurt you was to walk away.”

“You did hurt me,” she whispered.

Dean closed his eyes briefly, the pain in hers cutting through him like a thousand knives. Then, he forced his open, made himself face what he’d done. “I know. And I’m sorry, Viv. Sorrier than I can say.”

She considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t say she accepted his apology.

“If that’s all you wanted to say,” she started, clearly hoping to escape the kitchen.

“It’s not,” he hastily interjected. “I talked to McKenna about us, and she said something that I needed to hear.”

“What did she say?” Vivian asked, lowering her arms, so that she could shove her hands in the front pockets of her jeans.

“I can’t keep letting past decisions define me. I fucked up with her and that’s something I’m trying to fix now. Walking away from you wasn’t me being selfless; it was me making another mistake. A huge one.”

“McKenna’s smart,” Vivian observed.

“She is,” he agreed.

“Must take after her mother.” Vivian cracked a small, quick smile, but it was just a flash and then gone again.