I stop, putting my tray down on the nearest table. “But?”
“But…” She exhales. “I don’t mind it with you.”
Something in my chest pulls tight. “Well, you wanna know what I think is weird?”
Her mouth curves just slightly. “Do tell.”
I swallow once. The words feel strangely delicate coming out. “I don’t feel overwhelmed with you.”
Her fingers still against the tray between us.
“You’re easy to be around,” I admit quietly. “I like that.”
Vivian looks up slowly, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of how close we’re standing, even if we are on opposite sides of the table. Close enough that if either of us leaned forward even a little, things would shift into dangerous territory fast.
Her gaze catches on mine and holds there. One second. Two.
Neither of us moves. My pulse kicks hard against my ribs. There’s something in her expression I can’t fully read. Surprise. Want. Like she’s trying to decide whether this moment matters as much to me as it suddenly does to her.
I think we both already know the answer.
Her eyes flick briefly to my mouth before she steps back first, breaking whatever this is before it can become something else entirely.
“We should probably finish cleaning up,” she says, voice quieter now.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Probably.”
Her gaze lingers on me for a second, before we go back to cleaning. We finish up the last of it without saying much.
Trays stacked. Tables cleared. Lights switched off one by one until the room settles back into itself, like nothing ever happened here at all.
Except it did.
I grab the last bin, hoisting it as I head for the door, when she calls out.
“Hey.”
I turn and find Vivian standing by the table, hands resting lightly on the edge, like she’s not quite ready to move on yet.
“I don’t know why,” she says, a small, almost surprised breath in it, “but I find it easy to be around you, too. I like who I am when I’m with you.”
That hits home. Straight in, low and solid, like something punching through before I can brace for it. I hold her gaze, not sure what to do with that for a second.
“Yeah,” I say finally, quieter than I expect. “I get that.”
She studies me for a second, like she’s making sure I mean it, when I jerk my head toward the door. “C’mon.”
She pushes off the table, crossing the room to me, and, ever the gentleman, I hold the door open as she passes, flicking off the last light on her way out.
The late afternoon air hits, warmer out here, easier.
I pull the door shut behind us and fall into step beside her without thinking about it, taking her hand in mine as we keep walking.
And it feels like enough.
CHAPTER 21
VIVIAN
