Vivien adjusted her grip on the coffee cups and slowed as she scanned the room numbers, pausing at Room 318.
She took a breath and knocked lightly.
The door opened almost immediately and the woman standing there was not Peter. Or a nurse, based on the sweatshirt and jeans that looked like they’d been put on in haste.
She was slender, petite, with pale skin and auburn hair that fell from a ponytail in wisps around her face. The style accentuated a delicate bone structure and a peppering of freckles that were showcased on a face that didn’t wear a drop of makeup.
Faint lines around her blue-gray eyes and mouth gave away her years—probably the same as Vivien’s. Her expression was surprised during the split second when they stared at each other.
“Oh,” Vivien said, briefly wondering if she had the wrong room number. “Hi. I?—”
Before she could finish, Peter appeared in the doorway, much taller than this lady who couldn’t be five-foot-three, his finger lifting to his lips.
“Hey, Viv,” he whispered. “He’s sound asleep.”
He gestured gently for them to step into the hall. Vivien backed out automatically, the red-haired woman joining them. Peter eased the door shut behind them.
Only then did Vivien really get a look at him.
There were shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there last night. His hair was rumpled, as if he’d run his hands throughit one too many times. He smiled when he saw the coffees—but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said softly as she handed him one. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” she said. “I just…thought you might need it.”
He nodded, and exhaled. Then, as if remembering himself, he turned slightly.
“Sorry, Vivien, this is Holly,” he said. “Connor’s mom.”
Oh. She was hisex-wife. The realization landed with a jolt. Well, of course Connor’s mother would be here.Duh.
“Hello, Holly,” Vivien said, smoothing her expression into something warm and polite. “It’s nice to meet you, although not under these circumstances.”
“And you are?” she asked, shaking the hand Vivien offered.
“Sorry,” Peter mumbled again, exhaustion and stress in the word. “Vivien Lawson. From?—”
“Oh, of course.” Holly’s smile was quick, tired, but genuine. “The summers when Pete was a teenager.”
Pete? Had anyone besides Elievercalled him Pete?
“I’ve heard so much about you, Vivien,” Holly continued. “I’ve met your brother, Eli, of course. He came to Pensacola once so many years ago. With his wife, Melissa.” Her expression fell. “Who, I guess, is gone. Anyway, Pete talks about your family and those summers like they’re legend.”
Vivien blinked, a little thrown by the present tense. Hetalksabout her family? Hadn’t they been divorced for nearly a decade now?
“They were legend,” she replied. “And, well, I guess they are again.” She glanced at Peter without meaning to, seeing something fleeting in his dark eyes.
Instantly, she knew what he was silently communicating. He hadn’t told Holly about their relationship. His ex-wife had noidea she was standing in front of a woman “Pete” had said he loved two months ago.
And stupid Vivien had replied with…I need space.
She shook off the thought and concentrated on the moment, digging into her memory vault for all the things Peter had told her about Holly. Starting with…her name. Did she know it was Holly? Had he ever called her anything but “my ex-wife”?
Maybe. She couldn’t remember. But she did recall him sharing that their split had not been amicable. Connor had just gone to college when they filed for a divorce he said was inevitable. They’d been waiting until both sons were out of the house to break up the family.
His biggest regret, he’d said once, was that they hadn’t been able to stay friends. Or even civil. That he’d hated knowing his sons felt the tension every time they were together. When he shared that, he’d been doling out unsolicited but greatly appreciated divorce advice, telling Vivien to take the high road with her ex-husband, Ryan.
She had, and that had blown up in her face.
