by Darcy Burke
“How about we just take one day at a time? Why don’t we pretend we are what we say—friends? Just for today. Forget who I am and what we are, and just enjoy a day together. Can you do that?”
She twisted her lips, clearly thinking way too hard about what should’ve been a thoroughly agreeable proposition. “I’ll try. Give me an hour.” She walked around the opposite side of the counter, naturally, and disappeared the same way her mother had gone. Then she poked her head back through the doorway. “Feel free to give yourself a tour. My parents’ room is at the other end of this floor, so I’d stay clear of that. Upstairs you’ll find all of our bedrooms—boring. The downstairs is the best part: gym, game room, theater, and wine cellar.” Then she was gone again.
Though he disagreed that he’d find her bedroom boring, particularly when she was in it, he decided to check out the downstairs. How could he not after that recommendation? Along the way, he saw family pictures and mementoes everywhere he looked, constant reminders of love and home and belonging.
As with before when he’d spoken with Emily, he felt a tinge of emptiness, like he was missing something. And he supposed he was. He’d married Tori expecting to be, well, married. That they really hadn’t ever been and likely weren’t going to be made him sad . . . and frustrated.
But today wasn’t about trying to reclaim that. Today had to be about his future. Today he’d make her more comfortable, try to be her friend. Tomorrow he’d convince her to agree to the show.
After that she could have her precious divorce—assuming she still wanted it. And Sean had every expectation she would.
SHOWERED, DRESSED, AND primped, Tori went in search of Sean, starting on the main floor. As she made her way from room to room, her mind struggled to make sense of this strange morning. There’d been a moment when she’d walked into the kitchen earlier and seen Sean and her mom together at the island. The scene had looked so pleasant, so comfortable, so . . . domestic. She’d had a flash of what might have been, followed by the rush of anxiety that always came when she thought of Sean, which made her think of their wedding, which made her think of Alex.
She could almost hear Maggie say, “Maybe this week will allow you to work through those feelings. Spend time with Sean and try to get to a point where thinking of Alex and that awful morning after the wedding isn’t your knee-jerk reaction.”
That sounded like a good idea in theory, but in reality she just wasn’t sure she could do it. Cutting Sean out of her life seemed far easier, especially when he’d chosen to go off to Europe for six months and lived a thousand miles away.
Not finding him on the main floor, she went to the lower level, where the clacking sound of billiard balls signaled his location.
She went into the game room and found him bent over the green table, his arm extended along the cue. He straightened as she came in, tugging the hem of his long-sleeved navy T-shirt down over his jean-clad hip. He was always such an amazing dresser. Every single time she’d seen him, he looked as though he’d stepped from the pages of GQ. The tux he’d been wearing on New Year’s Eve . . . God, the pants had hugged his ass and thighs so perfectly, and the coat had draped his shoulders to perfection.
His words thankfully startled her from the lurid direction of her thoughts. “This is quite a place. Growing up here must have been brilliant.”
She shook the past away, leaving it where it belonged—ignored. “Are you ready to leave, or do you want to finish your game?”
He hit a ball, making a nice shot into the corner pocket. He’d clearly played before. “We can go. Think anyone will want to play later?”
“Probably.” The thought of him hanging out with her family, laughing, getting to know them, amped up her anxiety. How was she going to get through this entire week, let alone today?
He replaced his cue in the rack on the wall. “Should I reset the balls?”
“Nah, we’ll do it later. Come on.” She led him back upstairs and out the back hallway. His rental car was parked outside the garage apartment, but she took him to the far garage bay attached to the house, where her parents’ spare car was parked. They kept the gold Prius for when the kids visited. She punched the code into the pad on the front of the garage, and the door rolled up.
She slid into the driver’s seat as he climbed into the passenger side. “Is it far?” he asked.
“Not really.” She fired up the engine and backed out.
“Gorgeous day,” he said. “I’ve missed fall days like this in LA the past few years.”
“I bet.” It was going to be a picture-perfect October day—bright sun, golden leaves, azure sky. She slipped on her sunglasses as she drove through the porte cochere.
Minutes ticked by in which the silence in the car took the form of a third person. A large, surly, linebacker of a person.
“What were you and Mom talking about?” she blurted. Curiosity had been burning her mind since she’d found them in the kitchen.
He glanced at her. “Nothing much.”
“Really? She didn’t talk to you about me? Or vice versa?”
“If you’re worried that I spilled anything, I didn’t.” He exhaled. “We did talk about you a little—all good.”
Her muscles loosened with relief. What had she expected? That he would tell Mom about their marriage and its subsequent failure?
He turned to look at her as she drove. “Why is it so important to you that your family doesn’t find out we’re married?”
“Because it’s not going to be permanent. I made a mistake. Why tell them about that?’
“So your issue is that they not know you’re fallible.” He brushed something off his pant leg. “Granted, I don’t know them very well, but I doubt they’d judge you like that.”
She cast him a sideways glance—he looked as calm as he sounded. Meanwhile, her nerves were fraying like a knit sweater’s loose thread being pulled by a cat. “I got married, Sean. I didn’t have a one-night stand. Of course they’d judge me.”
“Sounds like you’re judging yourself.” Ouch. “But let’s not talk about that. You said you’d keep an open mind this week—though it seems as if you have no intention of doing so. I, on the other hand, am committed to doing what I said: being friends and seeing if we can make this work. Wouldn’t it be better to call this a success instead of a failure?”
Of course it would, but that would never happen. There was no saving this marriage. It had been doomed as soon as it started. She decided his question didn’t require an answer.
He watched her expectantly. “Can we pretend for today that we aren’t married, maybe go back to how things were in January before we went to Vegas?”
Tori clutched the steering wheel as she drove up the hill toward the monastery. She wasn’t sure she knew how to be that person. “We’re not having sex, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
He laughed, and it took her back to the blissful time they’d shared during January—between when they’d met and when they’d gone to Vegas. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to laugh, too. Not because someone made a funny comment or she was watching something that provoked laughter, but because it was infectious. Because she wanted to share a moment of happiness with someone.
But she didn’t. Instead, she gripped the wheel even tighter.
“I wasn’t going to propose that,” he said, “but now you’ve got my mind working.” The glance he slid her sparked with interest. Unwillingly, her belly tightened. Apparently she was still attracted to him. Not that she planned to act on it.
She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry I said anything.”
“Please don’t be. Come on, Tori, loosen up just a little bit. For today? What can it hurt?”
She pulled into the dirt lot at The Alex and parked near what was going to be the restaurant. Keeping a hand on the steering wheel, she angled herself toward him in the seat. “Look, I know I agreed to keep an open mind, but I don’t know if I can. In my mind, I’ve moved on.”
&n
bsp; His eyes bored into hers with a singular purpose. “In mine, I haven’t.” He held her gaze for a moment, then threw the door open and stepped out. “This is incredible.”
She shook her head. She hadn’t really moved on. Stagnating was more like it. But she wanted to move on. She needed to find a way to put all of this anxiety and sadness—things she associated with Sean, right or wrong—behind her.
Stop being all emotional and weird. You can be friends with this guy. You’re a grown-up, for heaven’s sake.
Getting out of the car, she joined him around the other side as she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “This was the church. Over there”—she pointed at the three-story building to their left—“was the monks’ quarters. And down the road is the Ridgeview space where Derek and Chloe got married. We can walk down there later. The view is spectacular.”
“Everything about it is spectacular. This is quite an undertaking.” He moved toward the tall double doors leading into the restaurant space. “And you designed all of it. I was pretty impressed with that hotel in Kuala Lumpur, but you were on a team for that, right?”
“Yes. I admit I’ve gotten a little help here and there from a few coworkers on this, but yeah, for the most part it’s all me.” Once upon a time she would’ve said that with pride. She still felt proud, but this was different somehow. It was so important that she get it absolutely right. For Alex.
Sean turned at the door, his gaze sweeping over her appreciatively. “Brilliant. Unsurprisingly.”
She looked away, uncomfortable with the easy familiarity that was within reach. Moving by him, she opened the door and held it for him to come inside. “We hired an engineer to adjust the roofline so we could attach this to the monks’ quarters, which will be the hotel. This main area here, what used to be the sanctuary, will be the formal restaurant. Dylan and his crew added on a smaller space that serves as the pub. It’s a bar for the restaurant and hotel and will be a local gathering place that’s less formal than the restaurant.”
He moved into the large space, slowly turning in a complete circle. “Will the menu be the same for both?”
She let the door close and followed him inside. “Kyle’s mulling that over. He’s been trying different recipes on us. He’s been making Sunday dinners the past several weeks, so you’re in for a treat tonight.”
“If his fondue and sauerkraut are any indication of his skill, I can’t wait.” His gaze moved over the stained glass windows and dark woodwork but then landed on her. “You Archers are a talented bunch.”
She shrugged. “No more than anyone else really.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, there doesn’t seem to be a slacker among you.”
Now she did laugh. “Kyle would disagree with you there. I told you when we first met that he was the black sheep.”
“Sure, but that was before. He seems to have come around—we all do in our own time, right? Anyway, he’s a hell of a chef. I don’t see a slacker.”
“No, and to be fair, he wasn’t really a slacker. He had a . . . problem. We didn’t know.” She frowned. “Because he didn’t tell us.” Kind of like what she was doing to all of them. She had a problem, or at least a situation, and she’d kept it hidden. To her own detriment, just like Kyle had done. Ouch.
He angled himself toward her. “What sort of problem?” He asked the question with such concern that she didn’t think twice before answering.
“He’s a gambling addict. He got into some trouble—that’s why he left town to begin with. But you’re right, he’s on track now. I think Maggie’s been a big part of that.”
“Love can heal a lot of things.”
A shiver skittered over her flesh, and she hugged her shoulders. She’d thrown on a sweatshirt but suspected it wasn’t the temperature affecting her.
She cleared her throat and walked toward the back of the former sanctuary. “So, through here is the kitchen, which is still under serious construction.” She led him down a short hallway to what looked like a war zone.
“You weren’t kidding,” he said.
“It used to be a midcentury Formica nightmare. There’s still some work to do before they can start building the new kitchen.” She turned toward the way they’d come. “That hallway has to come out so the space can be enlarged. Then Kyle’s office will go over there.” She pointed to a space off the hallway that currently served as a large closet. “I’m sure it’s hard to picture. I can show you the plans if you’re truly interested.”
“I’d like that, thanks.” He picked his way among the rubble. The room had been stripped to the studs, and while the workers cleaned as they went, it was still a construction zone. “Watch out for nails.”
“Will do. Thankfully I’m up to date on my tetanus.” He flashed her a grin that liquefied her knees. Suddenly she was back to thinking about what she’d stupidly said in the car. About not having sex with him today. Sex with Sean had been . . . revelatory. She’d had a handful of boyfriends, but none had taken the care—no, the absolute delight—he’d taken in learning and pleasuring her body. She turned from him, bringing her hair forward in case her cheeks were as hot as her insides currently felt.
“Will you leave this window here?” He’d gone to where the sink had been. A window looked out over the expanse that would become part of the formal garden that Mom and Maggie were plotting.
“Yes. I know it’s odd to have a window in a commercial kitchen, but Kyle wanted it. And the pastry area will be over there, so people strolling outside can look in and see delicious things happening. As opposed to a fish being gutted.”
He threw another disarming smile at her. “Brilliant. I bet this kitchen will be state-of-the-art.”
She nodded, allowing herself to move toward him now that her pang of lust had run its course. “Everything will be. The trust Alex set up had enough money to make this happen, but we’ve all contributed here and there. Well, those of us who are involved.”
He looked at her in question. “Some of your siblings aren’t?”
She hadn’t told him about that? She thought back and realized she’d stopped telling him much of anything after Alex died. She’d completely frozen him out. I had to, she thought to herself defensively. That didn’t make it right, however.
Guilt snaked up her spine. She’d become more than familiar with the emotion over the past several months. But this was different. This was something she could fix—or at least try to. Whereas the guilt she felt with Alex . . . Her insides clenched. She couldn’t fix any of it.
“Hey.” He came toward her, his forehead pleated with fine lines. “What’s the matter? It’s like a dark cloud moved right over you.”
She took a step back, afraid he might come close enough to touch. Or to smell. She’d caught his aftershave in the car. He had it custom-made in London so that it was absolutely and definitively Sean. She used to keep an item of his clothing after they saw each other so she could smell him when they were apart.
Gah, how high school.
“I’m fine.”
He stepped closer, and with a wall behind her, she was trapped. “You don’t look like it. Tori, I have to admit I’m worried about you. You have these little lines.” He lightly touched the side of her mouth. “They weren’t there before.”
She pulled her head back as a jolt of awareness rocked through her. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Why, because it might breach this wall you’ve put up? Why not let it?” He edged a bit closer, his mesmerizing eyes holding her in thrall.
Oh, the thought of forgetting everything for just a short while, of letting herself go, was so tempting . . . but afterward she’d be a ball of regret and self-recrimination. She backed up as far as she could. “Because I can’t.”
He moved closer, and his scent overwhelmed her. There had to be a pheromone in that damn fragrance, as the heat spiraling through her was enough to make her grab his shirtfront and pull him against her. But she didn’t.
“T
ori.” Her name lilted from his silver tongue and swept over her like a caress. “Remember that night at that little restaurant in Pasadena?”
It was burned in her memory. She’d gone down to visit him the second weekend after New Year’s. They could barely keep their hands off each other. Two solid days of kissing, touching, and sex. Lots of sex. The restaurant had been tiny, with a single bathroom tucked in the back. Between the salad and the main course, they’d made good, albeit quick, use of that bathroom.
Desire curled through her core, making her entire body feel light and desperate for his touch. He leaned closer, his lids drooping over the magnificent blue of his eyes.
Just before his lips touched hers, she put her hands on his chest and held him back. The connection burned through her hands and almost crushed her resolve. She slid away, putting as much distance as she could between them. When she was back at the threshold to the hallway, she turned and looked at him. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep an open mind, but I can’t. A physical attraction isn’t enough. After what happened . . . I just can’t do this. Getting married was a stupid, stupid idea in the first place. We barely knew each other. I’m sure you’re a great guy.” His eyes widened, and he started to shake his head in protest, but she barreled on: “Hell, I know you’re at least a good guy—but it’s not enough to keep this marriage going.”
He stopped shaking his head and pressed his lips together. “Tori.” His gaze traveled to somewhere behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood completely on end.
Slowly, she turned. And saw the look of shock drenched all over her sister’s face.
Son of a bitch.
Chapter Four
AS MUCH AS Sean had wanted her family to know about their marriage, he’d never wanted it to come out like this. He’d hoped, once upon a time, that Tori would’ve joyfully shared the news.
He could see only the barest profile of Tori’s face, but it was enough to register that her expression had gone to utter horror in the amount of time it took a celebrity breakup to trend on Twitter.
Sara wasn’t alone, either—Dylan was with her, and he looked about as uncomfortable as a person could. His gaze was fixed somewhere into the far distance, and he took a step backward.
