Victor hmphed, rising and grabbing his stuff from his locker. “I’m always fucking nice.”
That lie earned him one hell of a belly laugh from his buddy.
“Sure you are,” Coulton said, bumping shoulders with him. “A regular Prince Charming.”
Victor shot his friend the bird, then made his way to the parking lot. Climbing behind the wheel of his beloved Mercedes-Benz S65 AMG, he pulled out onto the street and headed for home.
He’d gotten a fuck-ton of kid-friendly food delivered last night, including popcorn and miniature chocolate bars he intended to pull out for a movie night this evening. He wasconcerned about how Pip would react to her mom leaving the country, so he wanted to be sure to have plenty of ways to distract her if she was sad. Pip didn’t cry often, but her tears ripped him to pieces when they appeared, so he was armed with a mountain of sugary and salty treats in hopes of warding them away.
Of course, he suspected it wasn’t just Pip’s tears he was in danger of seeing this afternoon. Vivian had barely been holding it together ever since deciding to leave town. Now that the day had arrived, he feared she’d either fall apart or back out completely. He was prepared to make sure she did neither, because this trip was important to her, and he knew it.
His sister was a literal fucking genius, miles beyond smart. She was a genetic counselor at Johns Hopkins. However, her original field had been archaeogenetics. She’d been in the process of writing a book about her findings regarding the origins of early Americans, her work tied to an archeological dig in Africa, when the life she’d expected to have fell apart within the span of twelve months.
In the course of just one year, she and Phil discovered they were going to be parents, followed a couple of months later by Phil’s terminal diagnosis that turned their joy of impending parenthood into endless trips to specialists, searching for a miracle that simply didn’t exist.
Vivian had put her research and the book on hold for years, raising her daughter on her own after Phil died of a glioblastoma right before Pip was born.
Victor had spent too much of Pip’s first year of life, raging about how fucking unfair it was that Phil never even got to see or hold his daughter. He’d gone so fucking dark that several of his teammates—Blake, Preston, and Coulton—had held a mini-intervention, gently suggesting that he talk to one of the team’s counselors. He’d resisted; he wasn’t a touchy-feely guy and henever talked about his fucking emotions. However, because his teammates were also his best friends, they’d persevered, and Victor could reluctantly admit they’d been right to do so. Talking to a counselor had helped him overcome his anger and move forward in the grieving process. He’d loved his brother-in-law; the man was perfect for his sister.
Vivian had also sought counseling almost immediately after Pip’s birth, finding a way to be an attentive, loving, amazing mother even while grieving over the loss of the love of her life.
Victor was under no illusions that his sister wasn’t a hell of a lot smarter and stronger than him. He’d spent most of his life in awe of just what a powerhouse she was.
So, she was going on this trip, goddammit, because she’d put her career—her life—on hold for long enough.
To offset the funding for her research, Vivian had accepted an advance to write a book about her findings at the dig prior to Phil’s death, and time had run out on producing the work. Now, she was off to Africa for three months to finalize her research and finish the book she’d started years earlier. And because Vivian was a workaholic, she also hoped to write a journal article about her findings.
Three months was as long as Vivian could stand the thought of being away from Pip, so she’d set herself a tough deadline, determined to follow through. God knew if anyone could do what she was attempting, it was Vivian.
Even so, his sister had gone back and forth about whether she should go so many times that, even though he’d miss her terribly, Victor was ready for her to leave already, just so she’d stop stressing out about it.
Once he arrived home, Victor hit the garage door opener and pulled his car inside, grateful he’d bought this car a few years earlier rather than the big-ass pickup he’d had his eye on. It was a safer vehicle for Pip.
He closed the garage door, entering his house through the door that led to a mudroom just off the kitchen. He’d played for Baltimore for three years before making the decision to sell his condo in the city and buy a proper house. He’d hated sharing walls with neighbors and not having his own yard.
He and Vivian were originally from Connecticut, growing up in the small town of North Branford. As such, Victor had felt like a fish out of water in Baltimore, the walls of his condo eventually closing in on him until all he’d wanted was to be outside and breathing in fresh air. There was nothing he loved more than mowing his yard on a sunny day, swimming in his private pool, and sitting by the firepit on chilly autumn evenings. With the exception of the rink, the place he was most comfortable was outdoors. And living within the city limits of Baltimore with so many people around had chafed.
Still…if life hadn’t kicked him in the nuts, he might be in that stupid condo even now. But the bottom fell out on his world when he was twenty-four. That was when his parents had been killed by a drunk driver. Vivian had just graduated from high school, planning to attend Cornell University that fall.
With their parents gone and the family house sold, he realized Vivian would be coming to Baltimore on summer breaks and holidays, instead of Connecticut. So he’d bought himself a proper house outside the city in Perry Hall. It meant a longer commute to work, but it was worth it, because he had a five-thousand-square-foot home with five bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms, and half an acre to himself.
Vivian had said he was crazy to buy such a large house, considering he was a single man with no kids, but he’d been determined to give her somewhere to call home. Even though she hadn’t lived in the house since she was twenty-three, she still had a bedroom there, decorated to her tastes. And when she was born, Pip got her own room as well, one that had evolved froma nursery to the garishly purple, fit-for-a-princess, little girl’s room it was currently.
Pip typically spent a couple nights with him each month, and even more than that in the off-season, so she was no stranger to his home. However, this would be her longest visit by far, and the first time Belle stayed in his house.
His cleaning lady, Maria, had freshened up the rarely used guest room closest to Pip’s for Belle. Walking upstairs, Victor entered the room—and grimaced when he realized Maria had taken some liberties with his request that she make it “nice enough for someone to live in for a few months.” Maria had left new, fluffy towels, decorative soaps, and a scented candle on the sink in the bathroom, and there was a bouquet of brightly colored flowers in a vase on the dresser.
Jesus. At this point, his bedroom was the only one in the house that was the slightest bit masculine, the others all “girlie’d up.”
He crossed the hallway to peer into Pip’s room. He’d added a few new stuffies to the mountain Pip already had at his house. He had a problem when it came to his niece; whenever he was out of town and had time, he made it a point to buy her something—be it a stuffed animal, doll, book, or toy. These newest stuffed animals, much like the sweets in his kitchen, were another of his attempts at ensuring Pip’s happiness while Vivian was away.
Glancing down the hall, he sighed. Less than fifteen feet separated Belle’s room from his own. If he was smart, he would have put her in the large guest suite on the bottom floor of the house. It would have allowed Belle more privacy, and him some distance from her constant humming and singing. But he’d ultimately decided against that, fully aware that Belle would want to be close to Pip.
“Hello?” Vivian called from downstairs. His sister had a key to his place, and since it had been her home after their parents’ deaths, she didn’t need to knock. “Vic?”
Victor called out as he headed toward the stairs. “I’m coming.”
Vivian was waiting for him when he reached the bottom. “There you are.”
