Page 19

Vivienne

The sugar rush from the cake Xavier brought earlier is long gone, but the ghost of his hands lingers on my shoulders, leaving me calm and loose for the first time in days. My body is lighter, my thoughts are clearer, and for once, grocery shopping after work isn't a chore.

My phone vibrates in the cart's cup holder, and I spot Tenley's name flashing on the screen. Tension snaps back in an instant.

My niece never calls. She claims shorthand text messages that start with "Hey, fam" are her love language. Which is so fucking confusing because I'm only one person. But when I questioned it, she patted my arm like I was tragically uncool and said, "It's not that deep, Vi. 'Fam' is a vibe, not a headcount."

So, when I see her name now, I know something's wrong. I swipe to answer, pinning the phone between my ear and shoulder as I steer my cart to the side of the aisle.

"Hey, Ten--"

"Mayday, Vi. No time for greetings," she groans into my ear.

Her broken voice stops me in my tracks. I'm blocking the aisle, but I don't really care. "What's wrong?"

"So, so much. But the nonstop pooping while I hurl into a trash can is the biggest bummer."

"Oh, sweetie, I'll be right there. Is Holland okay?" I abandon my grocery list on the spot, veering toward the pharmacy aisle to grab some Pepto before heading to the checkout.

The Bandits are playing at home tonight; it'll be hours before Xavier's home to relieve Tenley. She can't wait that long.

"She's probably traumatized from watching me from the hallway, but yeah, she seems fine." Tenley's voice wavers, followed by a groan that tugs at my heartstrings. "I'm pretty sure it's food poisoning, but I didn't want her too close--just in case."

"Can I bring you anything else?"

"Just let me perish," she groans dramatically, treating me to another pained moan.

That seals it--sports drinks are definitely in order. I grab a few bottles from the fridge near the checkout.

Tenley might have a flair for theatrics, but she's smart and level-headed. She handles her own problems and doesn't ask for help unless it's serious. If she's reaching out now, I know she really needs me.

I'm antsy as I follow the curve of Xavier's driveway up to his house, my grip tightening on the wheel.

With the bag of medicine and sports drinks cradled in my arms, I jog up to the door.

"Tenley?" I call out when I step into the massive front foyer.

"In the bathroom," Tenley croaks, her voice even more pitiful in person.

I follow her voice to the first-floor bathroom. I'm relieved to find Holland sitting in her fancy bouncer, looking healthy and happy, easing the tightness in my chest.

I step around her and into the bathroom. Tenley, on the other hand, is a pale, crumpled version of her usual self, slumped in front of the toilet.

"Are you the reaper, here to drag me to the afterlife?" She winces, squeezing her eyes shut.

I crouch beside her, smoothing a hand over her hair. "More like your savior, here to tuck you in and take care of the baby."

"You brought me grape Gatorade? You're a real one, Vi." She sniffles, her voice rough.

"Of course--it's always been your favorite. But right now, we need to get you cleaned up and into bed." I help her sit up and loop my arm around her waist, steadying her. "Where am I taking you?"

She nods toward the hallway, weakly guiding me. "There's a guest suite downstairs. It's dark and quiet down there."

I help her down the stairs and settle her into bed. She cradles the electrolytes to her chest and looks up at me, her eyes widening, before she says, "Holland needs a bath."

"I can handle that. Get some rest and I'll check on you later."

Last time I was here, Tenley and I hung out in the living room watching old movies. It's strange navigating his house now, trying to find everything I need so I can bathe Holland.

There's evidence everywhere around his home that suggests the Xavier I first met at Double Play was truly him at his worst. But for a year, I carried the impression of him being this cocky, arrogant player.

Now that I've spent time with him, I've seen firsthand that he's nothing like I imagined. And as I rush through his house, it's clear that this man loves his family over everything else.

The proof is staring back at me in the ultrasound picture stuck to the fridge, and in every adorable detail of Holland's nursery. It's there in the teal baby blanket hanging over the arm of the couch.

But it's not only his love for her that has me convinced. I find it again in the picture of him and his teammates together at the top of a mountain overlook. Giant smiles on everyone's faces as they surround Cruz and Lilah on their wedding day.

Refocusing on the task at hand, I scoop Holland out of the bouncer and we go in search of her bath stuff together. I find it in the bathroom upstairs next to her nursery.

"Okay, sweet girl, let's get you cleaned up for bed. We'll wash away any germs so you don't get whatever Tenley's got if she's wrong about it being food poisoning."

She gurgles back at me, cradled in my arms as I let the water run until it's warm and plug the tub. "Look at this fancy little chair. I bet you love this" Her wide-eyed stare is so innocent that it makes my heart skip. Once she's settled in the chair, I run the washcloth over her legs, making sure to get those chubby little rolls on her thighs. It doesn't take long and by the time we're done, her eyes are heavy.

Carefully, I lift her out of the tub and wrap her in a fluffy towel, but not before I end up soaked from her and the bath water on the edge of the tub. A downfall of having big breasts that get in the way.

Holland goes down easy after changing and feeding her, but my shirt and the waistband of my leggings are soaked through and cold.

Uncomfortable as it is, I take a few minutes to sit in the rocker and bask in the peace that holding her brings me. Eventually I lay her down and leave the room so I can find a change of clothes.

Checking the time on the stainless steel microwave, the glowing numbers tell me I have five minutes before I'm supposed to have my weekly call with my best friend Harlowe."Shit," I mumble, wrapping my arms around my middle. The air conditioning has my teeth chattering.

I head for the laundry room, going straight for the dryer. I wonder if Xavier is the type to put his clothes away immediately, or if . . . Bingo! I hit the jackpot, finding one of his shirts buried beneath a pile of pink and purple baby clothes.

Stripping off my damp clothes, I toss them in the dryer with the clothes that are still there. I instantly feel better, but my call with Harlowe isn't the naked kind.

Even though it's freshly washed, there's still a hint of Xavier clinging to it when I pull the shirt over my head and I'm not ashamed to admit I soak it in, burying my nose in the black fabric and letting the essence of him envelop me. He's been on my mind all day and this little hit of him is exactly what I need to soothe my still-frayed nerves from that massage this afternoon.

My phone rattles against the marble countertop, and a picture of Harlowe and me from last year's HarvestFest at the vineyard makes me smile.

"Um, where are you?" Harlowe's voice bursts through as my camera connects.

"At Xavier's. Had to come rescue Tenley. She got food poisoning, and he's got a game tonight, so she called me to help with Holland."

"You're in Ginger Daddy's house?" She leans in closer to the screen. "Is that his shirt?"

"Yes," I say, starting the drier so I can change back into my clothes before Xavier gets home.

"Spill," Harlowe demands as I step out of the laundry room and into the hall.

"Holland, his daughter, needed a bath, and I ended up soaked."

"Here I was hoping it was because you finally broke your dry spell, and he was the reason you were wet." She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

"No . . . but after the massage he gave me today, that's all too plausible."

"Way to bury the lede. You need to recruit that man to help you get off."

A muffled cough pulls my focus from my phone. I expect to find Tenley coming upstairs for something, not the man in question standing stock-still with a Bandits duffle slung over his shoulder and a heated question in his denim blue eyes.

"Um, I'm going to have to call you back," I say to Harlowe, my pulse pounding in my ears as I freeze just a few feet from him.