All things considered, Brendan had broken the rules—broken their vows—and yet he’d walked away with everything he wanted. She couldn’t let him see her like this.
“I don’t know what to do,” Monroe said. “I want to be divorced, obviously. So I know I need to correct this, but the thought of having to go through it all again…”
It sounded like torture. Like taking a seam ripper and cutting through all the stitches holding her heart in one mangled piece. It had almost broken her the first time. Or maybe it was time to admit that “almost” was a lie she told herself so she could sleep at night.
There wasn’t anything “almost” about it. She was broken.
“What’s the rush on getting it done?” Loren asked, coming around to Monroe and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Taylor joined her from the other side. “Just because he wants it done right now doesn’t mean that you need to drop everything when he calls. You’re not in a relationship with him anymore, therefore what he wants isn’t your concern. If you need to take some time to think through it all, then do it.”
“You’re right,” Monroe said with a heavy sigh. “I mean, it’s not like I’ll be getting married ever again, so there’s no ticking time bomb for me.”
“Exactly.” Loren rubbed her hand in soothing circles on Monroe’s back, and she felt some of the tension ease out.
“Thanks. I needed someone to tell me this wasn’t as big a deal as I was making it out in my head.”
“It’s a pain in the ass, but ultimately a piece of paper is more trouble to him than it is to you right now.” Taylor squeezed her. She opened her mouth like she was going to use another expletive but looked at her big sister and then thought better of it. “Screw him. Make him wait. It’s about time he felt the consequences of his actions.”
“What if he turns up here?” Monroe asked.
“He might, but so what? He can’t hurt you anymore,” Loren said. “You’ve already gone through the hard bit.”
Monroe wasn’t so sure about that. Because if she was being honest, the affair and the subsequent ill-fated divorce had changed her. It had changed her family. Three years ago, she’d been a vibrant woman with big dreams and confidence in her abilities. A woman who smiled more than she frowned. A woman who enjoyed dressing up for a night out, who lived for more than work and responsibility.
That was the hard part. Accepting that she’d changed and living with the fear that it would be permanent.
Chapter Five
Later that night, Ethan settled onto his bed at the inn with his laptop. It was barely six p.m. and already dark outside, a storm brewing in the heavy clouds and inky sky. He flicked the lamp at his bedside table on and set about Googling Monroe’s baking show.
The show’s graphics featured decadent cakes decorated with splashes of pale pink and yellow, sky blue and a lilac that reminded him of those candy-coated chocolate eggs his mum used to buy him and his brother at Easter.
Half brother, he corrected himself bitterly. If the man who’d raised him wasn’t actually his father then that made Wayne his half brother instead of his full brother. It explained so much, since he and Wayne had always felt fundamentally different in some way, like they were on opposite sides of an invisible divide.
Now Ethan knew what it was.
Shaking off the memories, he went in search of a way to stream the Sugar Coated episodes. When he found them, Ethan skipped along until he found the section where the contestants were introduced and he almost choked on his own spit when Monroe popped up.
“Hi, I’m Monroe Roberts, I’m twenty-six and I’m from a small town called Forever Falls. I’ve wanted to be a baker ever since I was a little girl.”
He scarcely recognized the woman on his laptop screen. Her bright ginger curls were tamed into long, sleek waves that fell in a lustrous sheet down her back, all the way to her waist. Her dark eyes were made up with an almost retro-style makeup with black eyeliner, and red gloss coated her lips. Her freckles were gone, presumably hidden with makeup. She was dressed in an emerald-green dress with fluttery sleeves and a V neckline, and dangly gold earrings hung from her ears.
“My specialty is layer cakes, the bigger the better.” Her smile was pure sunshine and sass. “In fact, I love nothing more than creating a cake where all the special bits are on the inside. It’s such a surprise, when you see this pretty but simple cake and then cut into it to find a crazy design like a special secret hiding there.”
Ethan found himself grinning like a schoolboy. Monroe was charming, she knew how to work the camera, and she came across as friendly but confident. The other contestants seemed to like her, as did the three judges—one of whom Ethan knew because he was famous for his macarons back home in Australia.
He found himself binging his way through the episodes, fixated on this version of Monroe that seemed a whole world away from the woman who barked at people and hinted that she hadn’t had any fun in a very long time. The more episodes he watched, the more curious he grew about why Monroe had walked away from her dreams of opening a bakery. What could have possibly caused her to give up on what was clearly an immense talent?
Ethan itched to find the answer.
But he wasn’t supposed to be getting involved with anyone right now, let alone a woman who clearly had some baggage stashed away in a hidden closet. Hell, he’d left every single relationship he’d ever had behind when he’d boarded the flight bound for LAX. The man who’d lied about being his father, his half brother, his fiancée, his friends, colleagues…everyone.
Right now Ethan was alone in the world and that was exactly how it needed to be.
…
The following day Ethan helped Lottie move some furniture around the inn. There was an antique sideboard that was in bad need of repair, and Ethan had relocated it out to the shed. He wasn’t much of an expert in restoration, but he’d agreed to take a look. At the very least he should be able to replace the hinges that had been busted, give the whole thing a sand back and a couple coats of stain to freshen it up.
Then he had the afternoon off, so Ethan headed back to the funeral home to see if he could glean any more information. He’d made the decision not to tell people he was trying to find his father, instead he had a story about looking for some letters his mother had exchanged with a man. Why? He was a deeply private person, by nature. And the questions that would be raised by him being open about his intentions weren’t necessarily ones he wanted to answer. He was still working through his anger over the lies his mother had told him and yet he was still grieving her death.
It was complicated.
Therefore, he was being careful about where he started his search and the funeral home seemed like a discreet place.
Ethan pushed through the doors and walked into the funeral home’s sedate waiting area. On first glance, one might easily mistake it for the reception area of a fancy doctor’s clinic or even maybe a lawyer’s office. There was an oak desk at the front, with a lamp and a vase of pink and white flowers. A glass coffee table sat in the middle of the room, flanked by two couches in a pale gray. Textured paintings of roses in soft, muted shades decorated the walls.
“Can I help you?” An older gentleman sat behind the desk, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He had silver hair and kind eyes that would no doubt make his clients feel comfortable.
“Yes, sir.” Ethan approached. “I have somewhat of a strange request. I’m looking for a man who lived in this town and I believe he passed away a few years back. The obituary had the details for your business and I’m wondering if you might be able to provide me with some information.”
The older man tilted his head, looking equal parts intrigued and wary. “That depends on what you want to know, son. We’re not in the business of sharing our clients’ private information.”
That was the standard line he’d gotten at most pla
ces. Privacy and confidentiality, blah, blah, blah. But Ethan knew sometimes it was the smallest piece of data that could create a spider web of information. In his job, he’d often solved complex problems by starting with some small kernel and working his way out. This was no different.
He pulled the printed obituary out of his pocket and unfolded it, the lines heavily creased into the paper now. “I’m just trying to figure out if this man had any surviving family? My mother passed away recently, and I found some old letters with the name Matthew Brewer on them and I’ve been searching to see if he might have the letters she wrote to him.”
Okay, so for someone who hated lying Ethan was certainly walking the tightrope of untruths at the moment. But, in his defense, his mother did have some old letters from the man who was his father. He’d found them pressed between the pages of a battered notebook. Sadly the envelopes had been thrown out, so there was no address or anything else that might aid him in finding his father.
“I’m sorry for your loss, son.” The man picked up the obituary and Ethan caught the exact moment his expression changed—fleeting as it was—before dissolving back into neutrality. Interesting. “Yes, we buried Mr. Brewer. It was a…small funeral. He didn’t really leave anyone behind.”
Damn. Ethan nodded, but just as he was about to thank the man for his time, the older gentleman sighed.
“I wish I could say that all the dead are mourned equally, but Mr. Brewer led a very unhappy life. He was troubled, you see.” The man slid the piece of paper back across the desk. “All I know is that both his parents have been dead a long time and he was estranged from any extended family. I can’t really share much more than that, I’m afraid. If you want to find out more about him, maybe you could have a talk with Brian McPhee who runs the local ghost tour business. They were friends.”
“That’s very helpful, thank you so much.”
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.” The man smiled kindly and Ethan bid him a good day before exiting the funeral home.
So, if this Matthew Brewer was his father, then he had no grandparents to meet. Didn’t sound like there was a wife or kids in the picture, either. But at least Ethan had a name. He paused outside the funeral home and typed the name Brian McPhee into his phone. Then he added “Ghost Tours” next to it.
It was something. And right now, already so far into a currently fruitless journey, something was better than nothing.
…
Ethan wasn’t planning on stopping by the diner on the way back to the inn. A quick Google search had told him that the ghost tours office was only open Tuesday through Thursday and, of course, today was Friday. So he’d have to either send an email or wait until next Tuesday to speak to the man.
With that being his only lead, the plan had been to head back to the inn and get to work on the furniture restoration. But as Ethan walked past the diner on the way back to where he’d parked his rental, he noticed a piece of paper stuck to the front of the Sunshine Diner’s front door.
No Chris Hemsworth impersonators allowed.
He snorted. Monroe was clearly yanking his chain.
Never one to turn away from curiosity, Ethan walked straight up to the door of the diner and pushed it open. The second Monroe met his eyes across the serving floor, she smirked.
Again, the Sunshine Diner was relatively full. The clatter of coffee cups and the low din of chatter was kind of soothing.
“Didn’t you see my sign?” she asked, coming forward. Today her red hair was scraped back into a braid, though several curls had escaped to frame her face. Her big eyes stared up at him, issuing a challenge, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I sure did. What have you got against impersonators anyway?” He grinned. The past year had been bleak, and sparring with Monroe might be the only bright spot in his day.
“Not impersonators in general, just those who look like Thor.”
“Ah, got it. I’ll be here tomorrow in my Elvis outfit, then.”
She shook her head, her expression mock serious. “I doubt you could pull off that hair.”
“You really want my pied piper ass to go somewhere else?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I want, paying customers. At this rate, the average time to consume a muffin is well over an hour while they’re waiting for you to show up.”
“You really think they’re here for me?” He raised an eyebrow and swept his gaze across the room. A swift ripple of movement had everyone looking back at their plates so quickly, Ethan was worried someone might end up with whiplash.
Monroe stuck her hand into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a fist full of napkins. “These are phone numbers from people who’ve asked me to call them whenever you’re in.”
“They must be joking.” Surely.
Although his gut told him otherwise. He’d already been asked out four times that morning, which was flattering but unwanted. The last thing Ethan wanted was a romantic entanglement.
“You’re from a small town, so you know the boredom that sets in during the off-season.” Monroe gestured with her right hand. “Not to mention the fact that dating when everyone knows your business is a real pain in the ass.”
“Speaking from experience there?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe.”
Okay, so that was definitely a yes. Interesting.
“I don’t know, I never found it too hard.” That was the truth, but he conveniently left out the fact that he’d vacated his small town to go study in a big city before he’d even turned eighteen. But he wasn’t about to go easy on Monroe, not when she might come between him and Big Frank’s eggs.
“Of course you didn’t,” she said, shaking her head and laughing. “Do you find anything difficult?”
“Not usually.” He couldn’t help sprinkling a liberal amount of cockiness on his response and it had the desired effect—Monroe narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m practically perfect in every way.”
She didn’t seem to get the Mary Poppins reference.
“Your ego is majestic,” she shot back.
“Fine, let me see what I can do.”
He let out a whistle that was so sharp and so crisp it was sure to have every dog in the town running.
“You all should order some more food. The eggs are great!” He called out loud enough that everyone in the diner gaped at him, silence settling for a minute before the chatter started up again. “There you go, I’ve done my bit.”
Monroe clamped a hand over her mouth to dampen her laughter. “That was exactly the kind of classy advertisement I needed, thanks.”
“Sorry, this small-town boy isn’t fancy enough for you?”
But before Monroe could get another barb in, Big Frank poked his head over the top of the warming shelf. “You two are bickering like an old married couple. Get a room already.”
This time it was Monroe’s turn to snort. “Please don’t use the M word around me. You know how I feel about that.”
Big Frank shook his head and went back to work. A ripple of awareness went through the diner, and Ethan overheard a woman saying to her friend, “Wait, are they together?”
Monroe must have heard it too, because she rolled her eyes. “Don’t get any ideas, Ethan. You’re not my type.”
Although he couldn’t help but notice how Monroe barely met his eye as she said it. Nor the fact that her voice was only loud enough for him to hear.
Ethan wasn’t stupid. He knew he was attractive. He’d been waist-deep in attention for his looks since he was a cheeky blond-haired, blue-eyed surfer kid. Hell, he’d even done some catalogue modeling in his childhood and earlier teen years, which would never see the light of day if he had anything to do with it. It was a path he could have taken, but Ethan honestly found it boring as batshit. He much preferred to use his brain and spend his day solving problems.
>
“Too bad. You’re definitely mine,” he drawled, knowing full well that the tables closest to him could hear. Maybe it was silly but getting one back at Monroe for writing a ‘keep out’ sign was too much temptation for him to pass up.
Monroe almost choked. “Oh yeah, tell me another one.”
“I’m serious.”
Like during his modeling days, he found a focus on looks rather than anything else to be completely vapid. Not to say that Monroe wasn’t attractive, she was…even if it wasn’t in the most conventional sense. But he was attracted to so much more than appearance. She was a spitfire and a mystery and he would bet his last dollar that she was pure, combustible passion underneath it all. It was that hunt for the inner workings of a person that always got him excited.
You don’t have time for that now. You’re here for one reason and one reason only.
To find the truth.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Ethan,” she said. “But you’re skulking around town, visiting the funeral home and—”
“How do you know about that?” Had someone spotted him just now, or two days ago? Now that he thought about it, one of the women who’d asked him out had come up to him as he’d left the funeral home, which he’d thought was a bold move. Had that person been telling people his whereabouts?
Ugh, that’s the last thing you need.
Now it was her turn to look amused. “Remember that thing I said about small-town dating being a pain in the ass, well that goes for everything else, too. If you’re looking for privacy, then you’re in the wrong place.”
Shit. Ethan scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I heard some of my ‘customers’ saying they saw you visiting and they were hoping you’d stop by here after.” Monroe jerked her head toward a booth where women were sitting. They couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or two. “Apparently this is your favorite place to eat.”
Forever Starts Now Page 5
