He was still trying to choose his words when she poked his arm with her index finger. He pulled his eyes off the road and caught the fury darkening her gaze and the annoyance thinning her lips. He could handle her anger, but the disappointment in her expression—at him—slew him.
Before he could speak, Vivi’s low-pitched voice drifted over to him. “You have no idea what I can and can’t do, McNeal. Yeah, you might have built this empire in three years but you didn’t have to do it while you were pregnant or with a baby on your hip. I left home with a hundred dollars in my pocket, scared out of my head. I had no job prospects, no skills and no one to call since my mother banished me from my family and my town. Since all my friends were part of her church, I lost them, too. I slept in shelters, and one memorable night, on the streets. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to know you have a child who’s totally and utterly dependent on you for everything and to not know where you’re going to sleep that night, how you’re going to feed her or clothe her?”
Vivi pointed at the restaurant, her finger shaking. “That man in there gave me a chance and then a dozen more. He taught me to cook, to create. He was my salvation and my warm place to fall. He took me in when my mother and the world spit me out. I will part seas and move mountains for him—and I will rebuild The Rollin’ Smoke—because he gave me a chance when no one else would.”
The fierceness in her voice was a tangible force, as was the intensity in her expression. He felt like their combined effect was pressing against his chest, pushing him back into the seat. Not often at a loss for words, Cam opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, unsure where to start. He was pretty certain that Vivi hadn’t meant to open the door revealing her past, but now that she had, he’d take the opportunity to look inside. He had so many questions.
“Your mom banished you?”
Vivi hauled in some air and closed her eyes. When they opened again and met his, he saw a mixture of emotions flash through them—determination and sadness tinged with anger. “Yeah. She insisted that I have an abortion, that my being unwed and pregnant would be a scandal she’d never recover from and that it would diminish her standing in her church.”
Wait...what? That didn’t make sense. “Aren’t churches supposed to be against abortion?”
Vivi’s smile held no amusement. “Apparently, it’s an acceptable option when your position as the highest-ranking female, the moral authority, is threatened. She made it very clear that I either leave or have an abortion.”
“Did you call her out on her hypocrisy?”
Vivi shrugged. “Even if I had bothered to argue, nothing I said would’ve changed her mind. Besides, I’d been thinking of leaving for a while. Pregnancy forced me into action.”
“Why the hell didn’t you get in touch with me?” Cam demanded.
Vivi sent him a “get real” look. “I told you. I didn’t have your surname or your cell number. And you’d told me you were leaving town but you didn’t tell me where you were going. I didn’t have the first clue how to get hold of you. I thought that you were a one-off encounter, so you can imagine my shock when I saw you at Joe’s.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t make contact then, why you chose not to tell me about Clem.” Most women would’ve been all over him like a rash, demanding, at the very least, substantial child support. Even Emma now found him socially acceptable. She’d contacted him shortly after her divorce, wanting to reignite what they’d once had.
Money, it seemed, made a lot of wrongs right.
Vivi turned around, took a long look at Clem, who was half dozing in her car seat, and handed him a cool, pointed look. “I can give Clem everything she needs, Cam.”
Sure, maybe she could. She could feed her and clothe her and send her to school. But she couldn’t give Clem the one thing he’d needed the most growing up. “But you couldn’t give her a father, Vivianne. So answer this—if you didn’t nearly die yesterday, would you ever have reached out to me? Told me about her?”