Page 43 of If It Can't Be Us

“In the kitchen!”

I make my way through the living room, finding her removing lids and placing utensils into containers.

“Hey, perfect timing. The food just got here,” she says, dropping everything to greet me with a hug. Wrapping her arms around my back and pressing her ear to my chest, she inhales deeply, almost like she’s savoring my scent.

I respond with the same enthusiasm, my arms folding around her small frame. I resist the urge to bury my face in her hair or kiss the top of her head.

“How was your day?” she asks.

“It was good, busy but good. How about yours?” She releases me from her grip and goes back to prepping the food.

“Same. Really busy. I’m going to have to do some work in the morning before we go to Michael and Stella’s. Construction started on twohomes in the past three weeks, and we start another one next week. It'll be crazy busy, plus I might be working with another client starting next week.” She gestures for me to grab a plate and start dishing up.

“Were you on sites today or at the office?”

“Both.” She pauses. “I met with the general contractor today… Nick. I’ve met him multiple times, he’s a nice guy.” She stops, and I can tell she’s debating whether to tell me something.

“And?” I ask.

“And what?”

“And… he’s nice?” I ask, spooning a heap of rice onto my plate.

“Yeah… he’s nice… and he asked me out,” she says nonchalantly.

“Oh.”Oh!“And what did you say?” I ask, watching her body language to gauge her feelings.

“I said yes. He’s going to take me out on Saturday.”

She looks happy about it, and something like jealousy sinks into the pit of my stomach. It’s a foreign sensation, one I hardly recognize.

“And you’re happy about this?” I ask warily, raising a brow.

“Yeah, I am.” She responds too quickly, as if she didn’t even have to think about it. She’s actually excited about the prospect of going out with this guy…Nick.

“Well, that’s great, Viv. I’m happy for you. I hope he’s great and that you have fun.”Too much,I think. An overly exaggerated response of excitement about her going out with some random guy.

We chat about life while we eat. Vivian tells me in more detail about her work and clients. I love watching her talk. She’s so animated when telling stories, using her hands, and her laughter always warrants a laugh from me because it’s so cute and genuine, like she can’t help herself.

“Oh!” she exclaims, “you were going to tell me about Paris. You booked our room?”

“Yep. I booked us six nights at the Four Seasons. It’s close to the Champs-Élysées, which has great shopping and food. It’s a great place for getting around the city.”

“Oooh. The Four Seasons? Seems a little extravagant, but I’m not complaining.”

“Well, it is for your 30th, yeah? It’s a big deal, you’ve got to exit your twenties with a bang.”

“I knew you’d come in handy one day,” she says, giving me a cheeky look. “I guess it pays off having a filthy-rich friend.”

“At least I’m good for something, Walker.” I lean back, crossing my arms and glaring at her, teasing her. I’ve realized I now use different names for her in different situations. When I’m joking or teasing, it’s Walker. When we’re just chatting, it’s Viv. When things are more serious, it’s Vivian.

“And what if I meet a charming, handsome Frenchman who sweeps me off my feet and wants to seduce me?” she asks dramatically, raising her hands in an exaggerated flourish before taking a bite of her curry. “Can I tell him you’re my rich older brother? How would I bring him back to our room if you’re there? We’ll need to devise a plan, because I’m not going to deny myself the attentions of a man on my 30th birthday.” She stares me down, waiting for my reaction with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Hmm, let’s see.” I rub my chin thoughtfully. “You could be my escort—veryPretty Womanof you—or maybe you’re dating my father for the money and I’m your soon-to-be brother after the nuptials. Those are both fun options. As for bringing men back to the room, we’ll need a plan. Maybe we have a code word for needing the room for sex, because we know I’m going to need it.”

She scowls at me. “Would you really pick someone up in France while you’re there with me formybirthday?”

“Wouldyou?”

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