of the yard as though they’d been sentenced to life imprisonment.
“Poor babies,” Vivian said.
“Oh, yes, their lives are blighted. It’s a wonder they can smile, let alone laugh.” Jodie rolled her eyes.
They resumed work on the salads. Jodie mentioned that she’d caught up with Nell, one of her bridesmaids, the other day, and Vivian heard the CliffsNotes version of the other woman’s divorce. They talked about various school friends as they finished the prep work for the party, then Jason came inside from cleaning the barbecue, covered in black gunk and rust, and Jodie herded him into the laundry room to clean up. Listening to them bicker companionably and watching her nephews race up and down the climbing frame outside, a warm sense of belonging stole over Vivian.
She had loved every second of her time overseas, but there was no denying that it was good to be back. There was something about the clear, far-off blue of the Australian sky and the faint hint of eucalyptus that wafted through even the most suburban of streets on a sunny day and the flat, familiar drawl of the Australian accent that eased a pressure inside her that she hadn’t even known needed comforting. Put simply, this was home, where she belonged, and it felt right and good to be here at this stage in her life.
Her small moment of introspection was broken by the arrival of her parents, loaded down with yet more food and presents for her nephew. The other guests poured in after that, and it wasn’t long before the house and yard were alive with the sound of children playing and adults talking and laughing. Vivian did her best to be useful, circulating with platters of finger food and keeping one eye on the horde of children rampaging around the yard. She was, however, very aware of the fact that her gaze kept darting to the door every time a new guest arrived, and after catching herself doing it for the fifth time she admitted she was waiting for Seth.
It wasn’t a comfortable admission, given their history, but there was no point denying the truth. From the first moment she’d laid eyes on him she’d been aware of him—drawn to him—and apparently time, experience and maturity hadn’t changed that fact. Regardless of whatever else had been going on in her life, she’d always enjoyed matching wits with him at the family events they’d both attended.
That didn’t mean that she wasn’t fully aware of his many, many shortcomings, of course. She’d always known him for what he was—temporary fun—and had managed their relationship accordingly. But she’d be lying to herself if she pretended that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him today. Especially since she would have the opportunity to tease him about impending fatherhood.
Despite her vigilance, he must have somehow snuck into the party without her noticing, because the next time she scanned the yard to see if there was anything she could do to help her sister, her gaze got caught on a familiar dark-haired figure keeping Jason company by the barbecue.
Seth glanced over his shoulder at almost that exact moment and her heart gave a distinct excited kick as they locked gazes.
Just like old times.
He smiled, the same cocky, confident grin she remembered so well, and she grinned in return, offering him a nod of acknowledgement. It was tempting to weave her way through the crowd to talk to him, but that would be breaking her self-imposed rule where he was concerned. She was allowed to be amused by him, she was even allowed to indulge in a little flirting, but she was not allowed to make him important. Racing to his side the moment he arrived at the party definitely fell under that category.
Instead, she returned to the kitchen, eager to occupy herself handing around more food.
“Go away. You’ve done enough,” Jodie said, shooing her away like a housefly.
“I want to help,” Vivian protested.
“Great. Go and be charming and funny and make sure everyone is having a good time.”
“It’s much easier to hand around a platter of sushi,” Vivian grumbled.
“Why do you think I’m here in the kitchen?” Jodie grabbed a clean wineglass and poured a generous amount of a sémillon sauvignon. “Here.”
Vivian took the glass with good grace and was about to slip through the sliding doors when Jodie called to her.
“Wait. Jason probably needs a beer. Which means you should probably take one for Seth, too.”
Vivian dutifully accepted the two bottles of beer, letting them hang between the fingers of her left hand. Taking a deep breath, she headed for the barbecue.
She could see Jason’s and Seth’s heads above everyone else’s. They were both slightly taller than average, and they always seemed to stand out in a crowd. Seth’s shoulders were broader than Jason’s, though, his hair darker. He was dressed more stylishly, too, in a pair of low-slung jeans and a wrinkled black shirt with cowboy boots, as opposed to his brother’s polo shirt and slightly too loose bright blue jeans—daddy denim, as she and Robin called it.
Her professional self had to give Seth points for figuring out early what suited him and sticking to it. He always looked effortlessly cool, as though he’d slung on the nearest thing when he rolled out of bed and it just happened to be a very hip shirt and the latest in edgy jeans.
“Apparently you two reprobates aren’t capable of looking after your own hydration levels,” she said as she drew closer, causing both Seth and Jason to swing to face her.
“Finally. I was beginning to think Jodie had forgotten me,” Jason said, his eyes lighting up when he saw the beers she was carrying.
“You could have gotten a beer yourself, you know,” she said as she handed one of the bottles over.
“And leave my sacred post at the barbecue? What sort of heresy have they been teaching you over in the U.S.?” Jason said.
Finally Vivian allowed herself to look at Seth. He was watching her with lazy approval, his gaze sliding over her face before dropping to her body.
“Looking good, Viv,” he said. “As always.”
She was suddenly very aware of the warm sun on her face and how cool and slippery the bottle was as she passed it to him.
“High praise from a connoisseur like yourself, Seth. Thank you.”
His mouth kicked up at the corner at her dry tone. “And she comes out fighting.”
“Self-defense. As always.”
He glanced at the beer label. “I take it there were no Peronis?”
“I don’t know. Would you like me to race back and check for you?”
He offered her the beer. “You’re a champ.”
She let the bottle hang between them, her smile becoming a grin. He knew she wasn’t going to scamper off to fetch him his preferred brand of beer, and she knew that he loved suggesting that she might.
All part of the game.
“Better drink that while it’s still cold.” She took a mouthful of wine. “Might be the only one you get.”
He laughed. “You haven’t changed much.”
“Neither
