FALLING FOR THE ICE KING

Chapter 2

Vivienne's POV

My old marketing job felt like something from another lifetime. The agency had gently shown me the door with a decent long-term sickness package, and honestly, it was one less weight on my chest. One less thing pretending everything was normal when nothing was.

Here I was now, suitcase wheels still warm from the journey, staring down whatever came next sunny days and the darker ones too. No map, just forward motion.

I fired off a quick text to Sia, thumb hovering over the send button like it was a lifeline.

Me: The taxi just pulled away. On my way.

L Harts: Can’t wait. See you in about an hour.

Her contact name still made me grin. That old “Legally Blonde” obsession had stuck hard, especially once she went full lawyer mode. Throw in “Clueless” and “Bring It On” and we had an entire comfort rotation ready whenever the mood struck. I’d bet good money she already had the playlists queued.

I slipped the phone into the inner zip pocket of my bag as Sheryl Crow’s “Every Day is a Winding Road” drifted through the cab speakers. I asked the driver to crank it up. The familiar guitar riff wrapped around me like an old coat. I rested my head against the seat, watching the skyline rise up to meet my skyline now, or at least the one I was determined to claim.

The cab jerked to a stop sooner than I expected. I glanced up and there she was on the sidewalk: Sia, those big brown eyes shimmering with tears she was fiercely holding back. She knew my one rule: no walking on eggshells, no treating me like I might shatter. She was keeping her word.

For the first time in ages, a real smile broke across my face, wide and unguarded. I wasn’t the hollowed-out version of myself anymore.

I pushed the door open, but she was already circling to the driver’s side, sorting the fare and waving off my protest about the bags.

“Hey, I can handle it!” I called.

She waved me off with a dramatic eye roll. “Please, we’d be here till sunset while you dig through all those hidden pockets for your wallet. Still rocking that money belt Dad got you?”

My eyes went wide, but the laugh slipped out anyway. “That was one time! And it was his idea.”

Before I could say more, she crushed me into a hug so fierce my ribs protested. I sank into it anyway, letting the warmth chase away the last chill of the flight. This right here was why I’d crossed an ocean. For Sia. For the chance to start breathing again.

“Hi, Vivi,” she whispered fiercely against my hair. “I missed you so damn much.”

“Hi, Sia,” I squeaked back, half-laughing, half-choking. “Missed you more.”

She loosened her grip with a watery giggle, stepping back but still holding my shoulders. “Okay, enough of this sidewalk sauna. It’s stupid hot and you’ve got more luggage than a pop star on tour.”

She snagged my cross-body bag with delicate fingers and strutted ahead like she owned the block. I watched her go, grateful she was still exactly the same force of nature, while I wrestled my cabin bag and the two suitcases behind her.

A sharply dressed doorman appeared like magic, taking over the heavy lifting with a kind nod. Another younger porter held the gleaming glass doors open, ushering us into a blessedly cool lobby where the air-conditioning kissed my overheated skin.

We caught up to Sia at the elevators and rode up to her floor now. Apartment 8E. She’d moved in after my last visit, so this was all new territory.

The second she swung the door open, the sweet scent of vanilla washed over me. Classic Sienna Harts.

Sunlight poured through generous windows, turning the pale grey walls soft and welcoming. Not quite floor-to-ceiling, but enough to make the place feel open and alive. High ceilings, crisp white trim, a big grey sofa buried under expensive-looking throw pillows in mint and soft blue. Black-and-white city prints dotted the walls like memories frozen in time. The AC was working overtime, but I already knew it wouldn’t last once the evening cooled. She'd declare it freezing and flip it off without hesitation.

“Right,” she huffed, dropping my little bag onto the counter like it weighed nothing. “I’m so ridiculously glad you’re finally here.”

She clapped her hands together, practically vibrating, then turned to the doorman.

“Frank, meet Vivi, my best friend and new roommate. Thanks for lugging all this up.”

“No problem, Miss Sienna.” He gave me a warm smile. “Welcome to the building, Miss… Vivi?”

I laughed softly. “Vivienne’s fine, really. Thank you for your help.”

“Miss Vivienne it is. Anything you need, just holler for me or Eric. You’ll meet Julia and Tom soon enough. Enjoy the rest of your day.” With a polite nod, he slipped out, door clicking shut behind him.

Sia was already in the kitchen, raiding the fridge and pouring two generous gin and tonics packed with so much ice they might cause an instant headache.

She looked every bit the off-duty Sia red bandana holding back her hair, oversized white tee, cutoff jean shorts, and silver flip-flops. “Sienna,” she called out, “play the Clueless soundtrack!”

I gestured at the speaker. “Doesn’t that ever get weird? Same name and all?”

“Nah,” she shot back with a grin. “I think it’s hilarious.”

I caught myself smiling wider than I had in months. The tension I’d been carrying melted just a fraction. She crossed the room, pressing one of the frosty glasses into my hand as “Kids of America” kicked in. Her eyes locked on mine, steady and full of that unshakable belief only Sia could pull off.