I try to spot other teams, to figure out where we stand. As I scan the hillside, it looks like we’re the second team to return.
I slow my pace when a familiar face comes into view.
My heart rate spikes.
I squint.
It can’t be.
Am I seeing things?
Specifically, someone I haven’t seen since my ex-husband's funeral.
She’s toweringly tall, beautifully blonde, with carved cheekbones.
Pale-blue eyes somehow contain a sadness that will never be erased, alongside a strength I can’t even imagine.
Tripp’s mother.
31LEO
I first met Vivian Lafferty when Tripp and I were juniors in college. We’d decided to get away from campus for the long weekend and spend it in Manhattan.
“My mom just remarried, and the new place is sweet. She’s out of town with her husband. Let’s crash there and get in trouble in the city.”
“Maybe let’s crash there, but not get in trouble in the city?”
“Fun police. I have a fake ID, and I intend to use it.”
He did make good use of it, but everyone did in those days, so I thought nothing of it. And truthfully, there was nothing to it, though perhaps it was a harbinger. Besides, when Sunday morning rolled out and his mom returned, Tripp was sober, freshly shaven, and showered. Plus, she’d told him she was coming home early, so he surprised her and her new husband with Eggs Benedict, her favorite.
Over breakfast, she peppered me with questions, wanting to know about my parents, my brothers, what I thought of school. By the time she’d finished, she issued a declaration. “I like you, Leo. You’re a good influence on my hellion.”
“Hellion? He’s more like a hell-raiser.” I’d winked, she’d laughed, and we’d proceeded to debate which was worse and which was better—a hellion or a hell-raiser. She was sold on me that day, and Tripp was sold on how well I got along with her.
At the wedding, I was his shield. “Keep my mom and dad apart. If my dad seems like he’s going to make a dig—since that’s his style—say something funny to cut the tension. Promise me?”
I kept that one, playing the referee he needed.
I was some kind of best man.
At the end of the night, Vivian thanked me. “I know it’s not easy for him being around both of us. We’re trying to be better. Well, I can only speak for myself. I’m trying to be better. I’m glad you were here for him.”
That wasn’t the first time she’d say those words to me—I’m glad you were here for him.
Now she’s heading toward me, her lips turned up in a faint smile, a little rueful, as if she’s done something a tiny bit wrong. “Leo. Look what I’ve resorted to. I have to track you down at work. You won’t return my calls.”
I laugh nervously, then wonder why the hell I’m laughing nervously.
Oh, right. Could it be because her former daughter-in-law spent last night in my arms?
That’d be the reason, and I swear I’m made of cellophane and she can see through me.
“Sorry about the phone tag.”
Sorry about fucking my best friend’s ex-wife.
“I’m just teasing.” She drops a kiss to my cheek, her habit. “I actually called your office, and your assistant said you’d be here. I had an appointment nearby, so I thought I would pop over and find you.” Her crystal eyes drift behind me, registering surprise. “And look who I found. Both of you.”
Lulu appears by my side. “Hi, Vivian. It’s so good to see you. You look amazing. Where did you get those jeans? And if you say on sale, I will bow down before you because those are incredible.”
Vivian laughs. “You look fantastic too. I love your T-shirt—Furious Napper. Also, I paid full price.”
“I feel better already.” Lulu wipes her forehead dramatically.
“I haven’t seen you since—” Vivian stops talking, stares at the sky. She collects herself, swallowing the words the funeral. “What have you been up to lately? I didn’t expect to see you here too.”
“Lulu’s working with Heavenly,” I answer, quickly explaining the situation, like I’d explain why my hand was in the secret chocolate stash as a kid.
“How fantastic. I’m thrilled everything is going well for you. I knew it would.” Her graciousness is a sledgehammer aiming, unintentionally, for my lying heart.
“Thank you. It’s a dream come true,” Lulu says.
Vivian turns to me, clasping her hands. “I don’t want to bother you in the middle of work, but I’m organizing a 10K and raising funds for addiction awareness and recovery. I was hoping you could get involved.”
She hoists the hammer over her head.
“In what way?” I ask.
