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He squeezed her hand. “And now?”

She shrugged. “I still miss him. I always will. But the pain has eased. And tonight, you helped me to remember who he was instead of simply remembering that he’s gone.”

Dean lightly touched her wedding ring. “You still wear it.”

Vivian looked down at their linked hands, at the gold band. She’d thought about taking it off a million times in the past five years, but when it came down to it…she simply couldn’t. “I guess that’s silly.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s beautiful.”

She blinked, surprised and touched by his words.

He met her gaze steadily, his hand still holding hers in a way that was both comforting and familiar, though she couldn’t explain why.

“You were lucky,” he said. Before quickly adding, “Jesus. That came out wrong. I don’t mean because you lost him—nothing about that was fair—but because you loved him. You were lucky to have known a love like that.”

Tears threatened unexpectantly. Not because his words hurt. But because they healed.

“So many people spend their whole lives looking for what you and Phil had,” he added.

Vivian blinked rapidly. “I’ve never thought about it that way.”

“One day, when Pip asks about her dad, you’ll have to tell her that story. And every other story you can remember.”

She nodded, sniffling. “You’re right. I should. This past Christmas, I gave her a photo album of pictures of him, and while we flip through it almost nightly, I’ve never really told her the stories behind the pictures. I know Victor and Belle talk to her about Phil a lot, but it’s time I start sharing more of my own memories with her.”

“So tell me another story.”

And she did. For nearly half an hour, Vivian shared her happy memories of Phil, and with each recollection, she felt unexpectedly lighter.

Not because she was letting Phil go. God, she’d never do that. But because she didn’t have to keep carrying him inside, keeping him to herself without ever sharing.

“Ugh,” Vivian said, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve completely monopolized the conversation.”

“You haven’t,” Dean reassured her. “Not at all. Hell, all you’ve done is answer my four thousand questions.”

She appreciated him saying so. And he wasn’t lying. He had guided a lot of her stories, seeming so genuinely interested that she’d lost track of the time. She lifted her glass and finished the last of her wine. Her third glass. She typically didn’t drink more than one glass in a night, and even that was only occasionally. As a single working mom with an energetic five-year-old, it was rare that Vivian didn’t fall asleep next to Pip in the middle of bedtime stories. Most of the time, she spent half the night next to her daughter before making her way to her own bedroom in the wee hours.

However, this was probably going to break the record for her longest dinner ever, as she and Dean had been sitting here for nearly three hours.

“Want another?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Dear God, no. I’m already over my limit, so unless you want me to start dancing on the tables, I should probably stop.”

He chuckled. “Might be fun to see that dance.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Enough talking about me. It’s my turn to interrogate you.”

“Fair enough.” Dean waved his hand, gesturing for her to proceed.

“No lost loves in your past?” she asked, aware that while she knew bits and pieces about Dean’s life through Victor, she couldn’t recall her brother ever mentioning Dean having any significant others.

Dean leaned back and crossed his arms, considering her question a beat before giving her a small shake of his head. “No.”

“Not even McKenna’s mom?”

His smile turned fond rather than wistful. “No, I meant what I said. Ellie and I had fun, but I wasn’t in love with her. She has, however, become one of my closest friends over the years. But that’s it. McKenna was the result of a summer romance that I knew had an expiration date. However, because I was a horny idiot, I clearly did a shitty job of making that perfectly clear to Ellie.”

“And yet you managed to become friends afterward.”