Or…almost enough.
“I think we’re smart to keep this just between us,” she said. She’d intended to stop there, but now that Victor had opened the gate, another concern creeped in. “Vivian.”
Pip was only one part of the equation here. Because while they hadn’t mentioned Vivian before, Victor’s sister was also in the line of fire if things didn’t work out. And Belle knew exactly which side Vivian would take if that happened. Blood was thicker than water, and Victor and Vivian were closer than any siblings Belle had ever met.
Victor harrumphed. “Vivian is going to have opinions.”
Belle giggled softly. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“She loves you,” Victor said.
“Which means we have to be careful. Take this slow. Because if…” Belle stopped talking. She didn’t want to say the rest, didn’t even want to think it.
Victor ran his fingers through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. His gaze told her that he knew exactly what that meant.
If Belle was a braver woman, she’d ask him if he was worried about this thing between them not going the distance, but it was way too soon to start forcing declarations from him. So she held her piece, doing a reset on her thoughts, returning to the attitude she had when she followed him to his bedroom tonight.
She was on the path and they’d started the hike. For now, she was just going to enjoy the scenery until they got to…wherever they were going.
* * *
Keeping things a secret from Pip turned out to be interesting.
“Why are you smiling?” Pip asked her two days later, eyeing Belle over her bowl of cereal like a tiny detective.
Belle jerked her gaze from where she’d been ogling Victor’s tight ass as he poured them both a cup of coffee, acting so guilty it was a wonder the cops weren’t here to arrest her.
Victor turned around, his smirk so smug and amused, she wondered if he had eyes in the back of his head.
“I’m not smiling,” Belle lied.
Pip tilted her head in that sassy, too-smart way of hers. “You look like I do when I get a red Popsicle.”
Victor, who’d foolishly taken a sip of his coffee, choked, then turned his back to them rather than hop in to help her out.
Traitor.
“I’m just in a good mood.”
Pip’s forehead creased, confused. “Why?”
“Because it’s a nice day,” Belle replied.
Pip turned toward the kitchen window, her confusion growing. “It’s raining. We can’t go swimming.”
Pip’s barometer for good and bad days was solely reliant on the swimming schedule. The tiny little girl was in danger of turning into a fish, given the amount of time they spent in the pool. Not that Pip would mind. Victor had taken to calling her his little mermaid, which meant they’d been subjected to watchingThe Little Mermaidno less than ten times in the last few weeks, and the music from the show had been playing on repeat on Belle’s phone. At this rate, her Wrapped on Spotify come December would list her listening age as six years old.
Which might actually be an improvement onlastyear’s, which had aged her at seventy-two, thanks to the big ’70s classic rock kick she and Vivian had been on most of last summer and through the fall.
“The rain just means we can chill inside and have a movie day,” Belle said, scrambling.
Pip lit up. “Can we pretend we’re at the movie theater?”
Playing pretend was Pip’s favorite thing.
“Of course,” Belle replied quickly, happy she’d distracted Pip from her maniacal grin and ass-ogling. “That’ll be fun. We’ll draw the curtains and turn off the lights.”
Pip eyed her. “That means popcorn with butter and a Sprite.”