Page 40 of Never Been Matched
When Vivien walks into the kitchen, her presence is like a strike over the head, again. At this point, I should have built up some kind of tolerance, but so far that hasn’t happened.
She hasn’t changed in the last ten minutes. She’s still wearing faded jeans with a soft pink sweater. Her long hair is pulled back into a braid, and fuzzy pink socks adorn her feet.
And yet there’s something about her like this—relaxed, casual, and unpolished—that is more appealing than anything she’s worn on the red carpet.
I cut the pizza and plate a few slices while she refills our glasses.
“Should we sit in the dining room?” She’s standing in the doorway to the darkened room off the kitchen.
“The living room is more comfortable. If you’re okay with that? I don’t use the dining room much.” It’s full of boxes I haven’t had time to sort through.
“That’s perfect. I just don’t want to spill on anything nice.”
Once we’re in the living room, she settles into the chair on the side and I sit on the couch.
We dig into our food, which isn’t too bad, despite how it looks. Or maybe I’m just starving.
After a minute of silent eating, I ask, “Did you hear from the car shop?”
She nods. “Moe left me a message earlier. It’s going to take a week or so for the part to come in. But it’s okay. Daphne is going to pick me up tomorrow morning, so you won’t have to drop me at the theater.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes, the crackle of the fire providing a soothing soundtrack.
“It’s so quiet here.” Vivien sets her empty plate on the side table and picks up her half-full glass of wine, swirling it in her hands. “You grew up in Surrender, right?”
I finish chewing and then answer. “Yes. But we lived in a house outside of town a few miles when I was growing up. This building was Dad’s offices for a long time. He shared the space with another attorney, who lived here before moving to Florida to retire. Then when I went off to college, they sold our house and moved in here since it’s smaller, and so Dad wouldn’t have to drive.”
She points at the picture on the end table. “I was checking out your graduation photo earlier. Where did you go to college?”
“Harvard.”
Her brows fly up. “Oh, you lived in Boston?”
“Yes. For about seven years.”
“Ah. I was there for about five.”
“I know.” Heat creeps up my neck the second the words escape. “I mean, I heard you moved there.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Yeah. It’s hard for me to keep my whereabouts secret. Did you like Boston?”
I nod. “I did. It’s a beautiful city. The food is amazing. Not unlike this pizza.” I lift my limp slice in the air.
She laughs. “I mean, for a frozen pizza, this is gourmet. Almost as good as pasta in North End.”
“Almost. There is an excellent pizza place over in Haven, Cosmic Pizza, but that’s a bit of a drive. I do miss Modern Pastry. And Yvonne’s. You ever try to cross Storrow Drive during move-in day?”
She snorts. “Only if I felt like dying. I did appreciate how most Bostonians didn’t seem to care much about my celebrity status. One time I almost walked into traffic, and the driver yelled out their window, ‘Yah think yah bettah than me? Yah not!’ ” She affects a terrible Boston accent, instantly laughs at herself, and then winces. “Yeesh, they say I used to be an actress. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
She sets her now empty plate aside. “So why did you move back to Surrender?”
“My mom’s health was declining, and my dad couldn’t take care of her alone. They were older when they had me, so it hit fast. When Mom passed, Dad went pretty quickly after. It was rough for a while.”
She leans toward me. “Oh, Spencer. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. The truth is, I love it here. And I’d already been here for two years before they passed, running the business and helping my parents, and there was nothing left for me there.” I had already left behind my job and my girlfriend.
