by Zoe York
I nodded, but her words sounded like she was just testing the idea out. “Whatever you want.”
Gran’s wrinkled face collapsed on itself for the briefest of moments, and a tiny sob escaped her, and then she recovered herself, sucking in a long breath and shaking her shoulders out slightly. “Tess,” she said then. “It sucks getting old.”
“Better than the alternative?” I suggested.
She winked. “It is.”
For the next few weeks, we all settled into a new normal. Ryan busied himself fixing up the house, and moved some of his stuff into my room at Gran’s. I kept a few things at Ryan’s, but I meant what I’d said to Gran. I wasn’t leaving her. And Ryan understood, making himself equally at home in our place as he was at his own new house. His father became a fixture in our lives too, Ryan picking him up and taking him home whenever he liked, and he and Gran became drinking and card-playing buddies.
Eventually, Gran allowed me to pack her a bag and show her the room we’d set up for her at Ryan’s. It was a mother-in-law suite, with a full living room and kitchen just for her.
Ryan had outfitted the living room with the very best gaming computer he could find, and Gran clapped her hands like a little girl when she saw it. “I might be okay to hang out here sometimes,” she told us. “Just for a change of scenery. And to keep Ronald company.” She smiled affectionately at Ryan’s dad, who smiled back. Ronald didn’t speak much, seemed mostly content to go along for the ride. But Gran confided that he told dirty jokes when they were alone, so it was no wonder she liked him.
Some evenings, it was just Gran and I because Ryan was in working on his new production company, and on those nights we stayed at her house.
“You think he can actually make movies?” Gran asked me one night while we ate a quiet dinner on the back porch of the old house, its quiet wings stretched around us in the fading light. “I mean, you keep saying he can cook.”
“He can, and you know it,” I reminded her. Since moving, Ryan had made us multiple amazing meals, revealing a talent that went far beyond Black Forest cake.
“But a company…” Gran trailed off, shaking her head.
“It’s his dream, Gran.”
“It seems a little crazy that his dream wasn’t being a movie star. How many dreams can one good looking guy get?”
I just smiled. Ryan had been so happy since he’d gotten the company set up and the staff hired. He was giving his name and his vision to the place, and working one weekend night a week, but otherwise, he was going to be hands-off for the most part.
“He can have as many dreams as he wants,” I told her. I was just glad I was one of those dreams.
We were at Ryan’s on the back porch about a month after the party, drinking Manhattans in the late summer afternoon, when the magazine arrived.
“Here it is,” Ryan said, holding up the glossy magazine with a photo of my sister splashed across the cover in the green dress she’d worn at Gran’s party. He handed it to Gran and me, and we leaned together, looking at the cover and Ronald nodded, maybe not quite understanding but happy enough just to be with us all.
In a smaller box on the cover was a photo of Ryan, holding a microphone and looking down at a woman sitting in a rust-colored dress, staring up at him adoringly. It took me a minute to recognize myself. “I’m on the cover of a magazine!” I shrieked.
“A little credit?” he laughed. “I’m on there, too.”
“Yeah, but you’re on magazines all the time,” I said. Lately there’d been a couple spreads about his mysterious disappearance from the Hollywood social scene. His absence, the hub-bub that followed the weekend in Maryland, and the opening of his new production company had all boosted Ryan’s star power considerably. After a lot of wrangling, Ryan had even convinced his agent that making Maryland his home base wouldn't mean quitting the movie business, after all, there were plenty of stars who still worked and didn’t live in the madness of Los Angeles.
“Open it,” Gran said, poking me.
I flipped inside the magazine to find the feature article, and there, at the top right of the center spread, was a photo of Ryan and me, locked in an embrace and kissing. The article was titled, “Ryan McDonnell finds love with Juliet Manchester’s Little Sister.” They actually did use my name later in the piece, but the focus was on Ryan’s “regular girl” and how his life was changing to accommodate her. It was a good piece, actually, and included some beautiful shots of the house and river, and a few of the party. Gran was even in the article.
In a little box at the bottom of the page was a picture of Juliet, looking beautiful as always. The headline read, “Stronger on Her Own: Why Juliet Manchester Doesn’t Need a Man.” The piece talked about Juliet’s next projects and only mentioned her divorce briefly.
I grabbed my phone and called her once we’d all read the articles. “What do you think?”
“I think you look amazing in this picture,” she said. “You’re so photogenic. You could be an actress if you wanted. Want me to make some calls?”
I laughed and looked at Ryan who was listening with Gran and Ronald on speakerphone. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ll stick to kayaks. You do the movies.”
“I got a new role, actually,” she said, sounding excited. “It’s not a romcom, Tess. It’s a drama, about a woman on her own.”
“Perfect,” I said, happy at how excited she sounded. “And is Zac leaving you alone?”
There was a brief pause before she said, “No, not at all. But I don’t care. He’s going to do what he’s going to do. That’s why I have lawyers.”
“Right.”
“Good girl,” Gran chimed in.
“And guys?” she said, sounding uncertain. “I’ve got some other news, too…”
We talked for a few more minutes; my heart so full with Juliet’s news that I really doubted it could hold any more happiness. I wasn’t the only one whose mouth dropped open as she shared the details of the newest developments in her own life—we gaped at one another when she explained what had been going on right under our noses the weekend of Gran’s party.
Juliet sounded happy, and once we’d all had a chance to congratulate her, we said goodbye. I closed the magazine and placed the phone on top of it, my own face staring out from its cover.
“I love you guys,” I said, a strange calm contentment settling over me, wrapping around me like a comfortable old quilt.
Gran took my hand and Ryan sat next to me on the wicker loveseat. Even Ronald leaned over and dropped a hand on my knee. And we just sat there in the warm Maryland evening, staring out at the water reaching toward Virginia before us and feeling happy. Everything I needed was here, right at my side. Reality and fantasy had blended together, and for once, my life felt perfect.
* * *
<<<>>>
Want to find out what else was happening while Ryan and Tess were falling in love? You can read Juliet’s REAL story in HAPPILY EVER HERS!
Juliet Manchester was America's best-loved movie star. But her real life doesn't quite match up to what we see on the screen. When she goes home for a weekend to celebrate her grandmother's birthday, she asks fellow star Ryan McDonnell to pose as her boyfriend to help divert the press from the scandal brewing in her backstory -- but the farce just may ruin her one chance at something real.
Jace Morgan was a Marine, and working as a bodyguard to the stars was a great way to make enough money to finish his degree and take care of his mom and brother. But he never planned to develop feelings for his client. And getting involved with Juliet might put everything else in his life in jeopardy.
Can a workplace romance turn into true love? Find out by reserving your copy of HAPPILY EVER HERS today!
Part III
Diamonds and Dirt Roads
by Erin Nicholas
About This Book
A pretend relationship…within a pretend relationship.
* * *
Attorney Evan Stone knows every crazy st
ipulation in billionaire Rudy Carmichael’s will. After all, he wrote it. And he’s determined to make sure each one is fully met by Rudy’s triplet daughters. Even if that means dating the workaholic CEO, Ava. Or pretending to at least. And even if it means resisting the so-right-for-him-she’s-totally-wrong party girl, Cori.
* * *
Cori’s only got three things on her to do list from her dad:
• Move to Bliss, Kansas.
• Run his pie shop with her sisters for a year.
• No dating. For six months.
* * *
But stepping in for her sister when it’s clear that Ava and Evan aren’t fooling anyone with their “romance” isn’t really dating. And falling for her sister’s pretend boyfriend while pretending to be her sister…well, that’s ridiculous. No matter how real things feel whenever she and Evan are together.
Prologue
From the desk of Rudy Carmichael…
* * *
Chapter 1
Ava Carmichael was worth twelve and a half billion dollars. Billion. With a B.
She could afford a Rembrandt. Or a Van Gogh. But instead, she had a framed inspirational poster hanging on the wall behind the desk where her receptionist sat. Cori wasn’t sure why that annoyed her. But it did.
Cori studied the poster and thought about her sister. Maybe the poster annoyed her because it read INSPIRATION and was a photo of a guy hang-gliding and she knew for a fact that Ava had never gone hang-gliding.
Or maybe it was because Cori was 99 percent sure that her sister had no idea what poster was hanging behind the front desk at Carmichael Enterprises. The stupid thing had probably been hanging there when Ava had taken over as CEO five years ago.
And yes, that was what irritated Cori about it. Ava had been so determined to follow in their father’s footsteps that she hadn’t even replaced the wall art in his office when he’d moved to Bumfuck, Kansas and put her in charge.
“Oh, Ms. Carmichael!”
Cori straightened from where she was leaning on the tall front desk as the receptionist, Sarah, came rushing around the corner with an armful of file folders. She dropped the stack in the middle of the desk, folders sliding precariously.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were here! I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
“No worries. I just got here,” Cori said with a smile. “Just didn’t know which conference room we were meeting in.” That was a bald-faced lie. Ava had texted her an hour ago that it was Conference Room A.
But there was no way Cori was showing up for that meeting on time. Being on time—or God forbid early—for this meeting would make it seem important. And she did not want it to seem, or to be, important. For her or for her sisters.
She was going to stroll into the enormous conference room with the table that could seat fourteen and the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Manhattan, as if it was just one more thing she had to do in her day and was hardly worth a second thought. She’d even worn black jeans and her black T-shirt that said Sorry I’m late, but I didn’t want to come under her red leather jacket. All of which would completely exasperate Ava.
But better Ava be exasperated with her than anxious about the documents the lawyer was going over with them today. Exasperated with Cori was a normal state for Ava. And Cori was determined to give her sisters—both of them—as much normalcy as she could as they listened to the lawyers go over the paperwork.
Yeah, the paperwork. Also known as their father’s will.
“They’re in Conference Room A,” Sarah said. “Do you need some help getting everything down there?”
Cori grinned as she picked up the two cardboard trays of coffee cups, balancing one on top of the other, along with the whipped cream dispenser she’d set on the front counter. “Nope, I’ve got it.”
“Okay, fourth door on the right,” Sarah said.
“Thanks.” Cori started down the long stretch of gray carpet. Gray. Of course it was gray. She hadn’t visited the offices of her father’s company in years, but she definitely had memories of lots of gray and white and black. Clean, professional, sterile colors for the décor that screamed money and intimidation and perfection.
She reached the conference room far too quickly, so she paused for a moment before stepping in front of the glass wall that separated the conference room from the hallway. She took a deep breath, dug for her this-is-no-big-deal-I-can-make-anything-fun side, and pasted on a huge smile. Then she tucked the stainless-steel canister full of whipped cream under her arm, balanced the trays in one hand, and reached for the door.
“Good morning!” she said brightly, as she stepped into the room.
Ava was standing near the windows looking every bit the CEO she was, in her black pencil skirt, white silk blouse, gold jewelry and Louis Vuitton sling-back pumps—the only part of her outfit Cori would have ever borrowed. Her other sister, Brynn, was at the table, a notebook and pen laid out in front of her. She wore blue capri pants that clashed with the salmon-colored cashmere sweater she wore. The white T-shirt underneath was wrinkled, her hair was pulled back in a haphazard bun, and she had glasses perched on her nose. No doubt she’d been immersed in something in her lab when she’d remembered, at the last second, that she had to be across the city and in her sister’s office by nine a.m.
Cori felt the tension from Ava and the worry from Brynn immediately, as if she was feeling it herself. She had no idea if all sisters felt each other’s emotions that way or if it was because she, Ava, and Brynn were triplets, but she struggled to hold on to her smile as she set everything down on the gleaming mahogany tabletop and began pulling bottles from her pockets.
“You stopped for coffee?” Ava asked.
Dammit. It was only Brynn, Ava, and some guy sitting at the end of the table. A very good-looking guy. There was no way for Cori not to notice that. Despite her nerves jumping with the need to get this meeting over with, the urge to bolt coursing through her veins, and the determination it was taking to act nonchalant about it all.
He wore a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, no tie, no jacket. He had a folder in front of him and a notebook next to it, but there was nothing written on the page. Maybe because the damned meeting had clearly not started yet. He sat back in the leather chair, one forearm resting on the tabletop, one ankle propped on his opposite knee. And he wore blue jeans. Cori was shocked by that. Surely he wasn’t an intern. No way would Ava let an intern wear jeans to the office. Maybe he worked for the legal team that was coming in. He could be a notetaker—what were those people called again?—or something, she supposed. He had dark hair, light eyes that could have been gray or blue behind dark-rimmed glasses, and a tanned, muscular forearm.
Cori tore her attention away from him. It was so typical that she’d be distracted by some cute guy while she was trying to help her sisters through this meeting. She always had good intentions, but her predisposition for frivolousness was often stronger.
Where were all the freaking lawyers? If they got the meeting started, she would be able to concentrate. She’d really thought being twenty minutes late would ensure everyone else would be present and that they would have covered at least some of the information by the time she got here. She didn’t want to sit through the whole thing about Ava inheriting the business, and Brynn getting her research funding, and Cori not getting anything. This was all just some formality, and she hadn’t been shocked to find out that she was required to be there, but she did resent it a little. She didn’t really need to be told in a formal, legal document that her father had given up on her. That had been pretty clear for a long time.
“Of course I stopped for coffee,” Cori said with a big smile.
She’d intentionally been late so she could make an entrance. She’d hoped the interruption would break up the tension that would have already built in the room. And she’d intentionally shown up with treats. Because that’s what she did. She made things sweeter, sillier, and more fun fo
r her sisters. That was her role in their triad and really the only thing she could offer here today.
She’d behaved every day since finding out their father had died. She’d bit her tongue when people talked about how great he was. She’d refrained from scoffing when people said how proud he’d been of her. She’d pretended that she knew his favorite church hymn when the funeral director had asked—hey, everyone liked “Amazing Grace”, right?
But she’d be damned if she’d sit in this office and act sad listening to lawyers milk their hourly rates while doling out her father’s possessions.
It was no coincidence that there was not a single World’s Best Dad mug among those possessions.
So what if a few of the tears she’d shed had felt real? There was plenty to mourn when it came to her and her father. His death was not even number one on the list.
“The meeting was supposed to start at nine,” Ava told her.
Cori nodded as she pulled one of the cups from the tray, grabbed the whipped cream gun and one of the plastic bottles, and rounded the table. “I got your texts.”
“And it’s now nine thirty-five,” Ava said, accepting the cup with a frown.
Okay, she was thirty-five minutes late. She’d still beat the stupid lawyers. She took the lid off of the cup Ava held, tipped the silver can, and added a swirl of whipped cream to the top of Ava’s chai latte, then shook a few tiny cinnamon cookie crumbs from the plastic bottle onto the top of the cream. “Well, I felt bad leaving the people in line behind me without whipped cream, so I let everyone else go first. And it was a long line.” Thankfully.
