The Idea of You (16 page)

“Well, I'm the infertility poster child.” A smile pulled at the wrinkles around her eyes, creating little fans. “At least I was until I got pregnant so easily with Hayden.”

“What was the problem? Why did you see a specialist?”

“After three years of failed attempts, we decided we needed help. I had a variety of ovulation problems. We tried different options but ultimately had to go with in vitro fertilization.” She picked up her tea and took a long sip. “The first attempt we tried four embryos, and it didn't work. We were devastated.” She shook her head. “I wasn't sure I wanted to try again. We planned to start the process to adopt.”

“That must've been so emotional. How did you retain hope?”

“Sometimes I didn't.” She cupped her hands around her mug on the table in front of her. “But in the end, that's all you have, isn't it? Hope and faith that things will work out the way they're meant to be. We decided to try one more time. They implanted five.”

“And you ended up with six babies.” Alaina couldn't keep from grinning. “A true testament to the saying, ‘never give up.' ”

Emily smiled back, her sky blue eyes brilliant with emotion. “We were shocked when there were six. The doctor asked if I wanted to risk keeping them all. We thought about it for a few days, but there was never really a question. After wanting them for so long . . . I couldn't let any of them go, even if it meant I lost them all. And I know that's not terribly rational. But logic and rationality are difficult to consider in that situation.”

“It all worked out. You even went on to have another one!”

Emily cast her head back and laughed. It was a sound of pure joy stemming from a love that Alaina wasn't sure she'd ever known. “I know! Can you imagine our shock? We were absolutely overjoyed. To go from such desperation to such unimaginable fortune . . . It was remarkable.”

Emotion surged in Alaina's chest, constricting her lungs. She fought to take a deep breath. “Your family is so lovely.”

“Thank you. It's a shame you and your mother aren't close.”

“It is, but I made my peace with it long ago.” She hadn't had a choice. She did, however, have a choice to be a completely different kind of mother—one who was engaged and present and absolutely unselfish. Suddenly the idea of embracing Ribbon Ridge as a potential new home seemed not only ideal, but obvious.

“I almost forgot.” Emily stood up and went to the small office that adjoined the kitchen. “I found these socks downstairs yesterday, and Tori said they aren't hers. I don't think they're Sara's. She's picky about her socks, and these feel too thick for what she likes. Are they yours?”

Alaina stared at the bright blue wool socks and fought the heat rising in her cheeks as she recalled just how she'd left them downstairs. “Um, yes, those are mine.” She forced a smile, and it was probably far too bright and fake looking.
Pull yourself together, you're an actress for crying out loud—act like this is no big deal!

Emily brought them to the table and set them next to Alaina. “I'm glad they found their owner.”

Alaina scooped up more oatmeal. “Thanks. I was here the other night . . . playing foosball with Evan.” More heat threatened to flood her neck and face. “My feet got hot.”
Really?
“I was wearing Uggs and, uh, Uggs
and
socks are overkill, right?” She stuffed the oatmeal in her mouth before she kept rambling. Rambling? Was Evan rubbing off on her? She kind of liked that idea, actually.

Emily took another drink of tea and kept her hand cradled around the side of the mug after she set it back on the table. “You and Evan have been spending a lot of time together.”

Alaina tensed, feeling irrationally nervous, like a teenager being grilled by an overprotective parent. Which was absolutely ridiculous. “Yes. He's a great guy.”

“He told me you were dating.”

Alaina had taken another bite of oatmeal and practically choked. She hadn't thought it was a secret, but she also hadn't thought he'd publicize it. But why not? It
wasn't
a secret. At least not here. Not in her lovely little Ribbon Ridge bubble.

The problem with bubbles, however, is that they always burst.

“Yes, I guess we are.” She took her last bite of oatmeal, simultaneously sad it was gone and glad she could get the hell out of Dodge before the conversation turned really uncomfortable. She chastised herself for feeling that way. These people had been nothing but kind to her, and she
did
like their son. She had nothing to hide or be ashamed of. “I like Evan a lot.”

“I'm glad. But—and please don't think poorly of me for saying this—you are about the last person I'd ever expect him to date. You're so . . . famous.” She laughed, but it wasn't the warm, soul-lifting sound from before. This held a tinge of uncertainty. “Not that there's anything wrong with you being famous. It's just that Evan doesn't like attention.”

“I know.” Alaina fidgeted with the handle of her mug. “He told me about you ending the show for his sake.”

Emily blinked in surprise. “He did?”

Alaina nodded. “I understand his . . . quirks. They're one of the reasons I like him so much. He's unlike any man I've ever known.”

“My goodness, is this serious?”

Alaina gripped the mug, feeling as apprehensive as if it were opening night on Broadway, which she'd done a couple of years ago. “Not really. We're just dating while I'm in Ribbon Ridge.”

“I see. It sounded as though you might consider spending more time here.”

“I might.” Alaina was on the precipice of major life changes. If she was able to become pregnant, she was going to have to make some choices about her career, about a lot of things. Choices she was ready to make but that were now more complicated since meeting Evan.

“I just have to say—and forgive me, but I'm his mother—Evan is special. You say he's unlike any man you've known, and I don't doubt that's true. Everyone is unique, but Evan is more than that.”

Alaina thought she understood. “He's very lucky to have a mom like you.”

Emily stood up and scooped her bowl and mug from the table. “Normally I would smile and accept the compliment, but in this case, I think it's much more than that. It's been a terrible year, but I am so grateful for my family. Thank you.” She took her dishes to the kitchen, and Alaina had to blink away a tear.

Damn. Never mind stressing about falling for Evan Archer—she was in real danger of losing her heart to his family. And she couldn't risk that, not when she was on the verge of building a family of her own. She didn't think she had room for anything else.

T
HE UNMISTAKABLE BARITONE
of Dad's voice outside the closed office door drove Evan from the chair in front of his father's desk. Evan had come early for the meeting to purposely avoid seeing Dad's secretary. He didn't want anyone else to know the truth before he told Dad. He owed him that much.

He turned to face the door—and the music. Anxiety pricked his neck and unsettled his senses. He felt fidgety and a bit . . . raw. But it could be so much worse. Thankfully he'd spent an extra ten minutes in the gym that morning in anticipation of this very reaction.

Dad opened the door and looked at Evan in mild confusion. “Good morning. I didn't expect to see you. Is everything all right?”

Evan exhaled. “Yep, fine.”

“Great.” Dad walked past him and circled behind his desk, dropping his laptop bag on top of it. “I have a meeting. Can we catch up later?”

“No.”
Say it.
“I'm your meeting.”

Deep furrows etched into Dad's brow as his movements slowed and then stilled. “I don't understand.”

“
I'm
the creative director. I made up the name Eric Steele.”

Dad blinked at him. “But I spoke to you on the phone. Or was that someone else pretending to be you? Rather, Eric Steele?” He shook his head. “I don't understand.”

“It was me. I used a voice distorter.”

“You used a what?” Dad ran his hand through his hair, mussing it so that he looked as though he'd just taken off his helmet after a long bike ride. “Sit down and start at the beginning.” He dropped into his chair, his shoulders drooping. “Please.”

Evan sat, but every muscle in his body was tense and taut. “I'm not sure where the beginning is.”

Dad leaned forward and set his elbow on the desk, then rested his forehead against his palm. He massaged the lines away—at least partially. “Let me try to understand. You're the creative director I hired two months ago. The one who gets the Archer brand like no one else. The one who's absolutely knocked my socks off and exceeded all expectations.”

Evan started to relax as warmth spread through him. “Um . . . yes?”

Dad flopped back in his chair and laughed. It started low and then came from deep in his belly. Evan had no idea what could be funny. He fixed his gaze on the view of the hills behind Dad. At last, Dad wiped his hand over his face. “I'm sorry. I'm just so relieved. And ecstatic.”

“Why relieved?”

Dad rested his hands on the arms of his chair. “Because I was feeling terribly guilty for loving your work so much. It felt almost . . . sacrilegious to Alex's memory.” He shook his head again and sat forward, bracing his hands on the desk to scoot his chair closer. “But it isn't, especially since it's you. I can't think of anyone better to carry on his legacy.”

Evan wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. He'd never wanted to infringe on Alex's place. As a large family, it had been hard to find where you fit in, to carve out that niche that made you special. “I don't want to replace Alex. That's why I applied for the job as someone else. I wanted to be anonymous.”

Dad frowned a little. “I'm not sure I understand your thought process, but it doesn't matter. You aren't replacing Alex.”

No one ever understood his thought process, and he wished they did. Frustration built in his chest.

The door opened, startling Evan. He snapped his head around to see Derek and Kyle.

“Sorry we're late,” Derek said. “Hey, Evan, I didn't realize you'd be here.”

Kyle sat on the couch situated against the wall next to the door. “Hey, bro.”

“Evan's the new creative director,” Dad said.

The anxiety Evan had felt earlier overtook his frustration. He'd prepared himself to tell Dad the truth, not an audience. And to him, three people were an audience.

“Really?” Kyle sat forward on the couch and gave Evan a brotherly tap on the bicep. “Nice job!”

Derek took the chair next to Evan, turning it so that he faced Evan and could still see Dad and Kyle. Evan knew he ought to do the same so that his back wasn't to Kyle, but he was almost frozen with tension.

“I don't get it. What happened to Eric Steele?” Derek asked.

“He
is
Eric Steele,” Dad said before Evan could respond.

Evan sent him an angry look. “Can I answer, please?”

Dad's eyes widened slightly. “Of course. Sorry.”

“I'm not sure I'm following,” Derek said slowly. “You pretended to be someone else?”

Evan shot out of his chair. “Look, I didn't realize this was going to be a group meeting. Can we talk about this later?” Or never.

Kyle stood up and moved closer. “Hey, don't get upset. This is very cool. I don't know why you didn't just apply for the position as yourself, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that it's you and you're doing an amazing job. Total win-win, right?”

Evan couldn't come up with an argument. And why should he want to? “Sorry, I'm . . . This feels weird.”

“Why, because we're making a big deal?” Kyle grinned. “Sorry, dude, your work is outstanding. Big deals will be made. You're going to have to get used to it.” His smiled faded a bit. “Is it something else?”

“Evan, may I?” Dad asked.

Evan wasn't sure what he wanted to say but nodded.

“I think he's worried about usurping Alex's spot. I was telling him there's no way he could. They're different people, and neither one of them can be replaced.”

“He's right,” Derek said. “Try not to think of it like that—this position doesn't ‘belong' to anyone.”

The office was quiet for a minute, and Evan was grateful for the silence to process everything. “Thanks.”

Kyle slapped his bicep again, a gesture that would've driven Evan nuts if it had come from anyone else. But Kyle had always done that to him, and because of that, it felt as good as a hug. “This is such fantastic news! Will you let us celebrate? I know you hate that sort of thing, but maybe a dinner Friday night with just the family?”

Family gatherings could be overwhelming, but he typically enjoyed them, even if he didn't show it. He enjoyed them even more when Alaina was there, like at dinner the other night. She was a surprisingly calm and nurturing presence. “Can I bring Alaina?”

Kyle shrugged “Sure. How about we go to Georgia's? I don't want to cook; I just want to toast my brother.”

“We'll have to get the private dining room.” Evan didn't think Alaina would come otherwise.

“Yeah, that makes sense with what . . . twelve of us? I'll ask our assistant to set it up.” Kyle and Derek shared a secretary.

“Think she can handle that?” Derek asked, and even Evan could pick up the sarcasm in his tone.

“Good point,” Kyle said. They were on their fourth or fifth temp since their former assistant had been arrested for dealing drugs, including selling the pills to Alex that he'd used to kill himself. They had yet to find someone who was a good fit. “I'll take care of it.”

“So are we still meeting?” Derek asked. “Evan, if you want to postpone, that's okay with me.”

He was tempted, but he knew that wouldn't be very professional. He could do this.

“Let's meet in the conference room,” Dad said. He looked from Derek to Kyle. “You boys go on ahead. Evan and I will be there in a minute.”

“Sure thing.” Kyle turned for the door.

Derek stood and clapped Evan on the shoulder. “Great to have you on board. Officially.” He closed the door again on his way out.

Evan glanced at Dad, who was watching him with curiosity. He moved around the desk and stood in front of Evan. “I'm sorry you felt like you had to sneak your way into the job. And I'm not saying you were sneaky. But I do wish you'd just come to me and explained what you wanted to do. I honestly had no idea you were this artistic.”

Evan shrugged. “Like I said, I didn't want to infringe on Alex's thing.”

“But it's your thing, too. It's not a competition, Evan.”

“If I'd applied to be creative director when Alex had . . . Would you have hired us both?”

Dad frowned. “I don't know. And I can't really answer that question, because you didn't apply. I don't want to look back and try to make a decision that's completely moot now. I'd rather not look back at all.” He set his hand on Evan's shoulder and gripped it firmly. “I'm thrilled you have this job, that you're back in Ribbon Ridge. I never imagined you'd want something like this, and I'm just so pleased.” He smiled, and it might've been the happiest expression Evan had ever seen. Or maybe he was just so used to the lurking sadness of the past year, and in this moment, it wasn't anywhere to be seen.

“Thanks. It feels good to be here. I was nervous about telling you the truth. Looking back, I feel foolish.”

“Like I said, don't look back. Let's look to the future and the amazing things we're going to do—together.” He hugged Evan then, pulling him against his chest and giving his back a firm slap.

Evan squeezed his dad for a moment, then pulled away, feeling so much lighter than when he'd arrived.

“Ready to talk promo?” Dad pulled his laptop from his bag.

Evan picked up his satchel with his iPad from the corner of Dad's desk. “Let's do this.”

A
LAINA PULLED THE
growler from the fridge and poured two pints. Evan had texted that he'd picked up the pizza and was on his way. She smiled to herself remembering his phone call—he'd actually called her!—that afternoon. He wouldn't say why but asked if she was in the mood to celebrate tonight. She'd offered to make dinner, but he said it was his celebration so he was bringing the food, which meant pizza. He'd at least allowed her to run over to the house and fill a growler of beer from the kitchen tap.

She was excited to hear his news but also a little nervous to tell him about her conversation with Emily that morning. But she couldn't
not
discuss it.

Her phone vibrated on the counter, and she glanced at the display. Crystal.

She finished pouring and set the growler down before answering the phone. “Hey, how's it going? Is Isaac still mad at me?”

“Yep. But he'll get over it. Brian asked if you've read the scripts he sent.”

Brian was her agent, whom Alaina loved dearly, but who wasn't listening very carefully when Alaina said she was taking a break for at least a year. Probably longer. She was about to make a life-altering change. Maybe she'd never go back. “What did you tell him?”

“That you were reading them.”

“Gee, thanks. Now he'll get his hopes up.”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘She's hiding out and I have no idea what she's doing'? Because that's the truth. What
are
you doing up in Oregon?”

“Nothing. Just hanging out.”

“I call bullshit. You'd be bored out of your mind, and you don't sound bored. You have to be doing
something
—and I know you aren't reading those scripts.”

Alaina considered feeding her garbage, but why? Crystal was her oldest, best friend. “I'm sort of seeing a guy.”

“What?”

Alaina held the phone away from her ear for a moment, then put it back. “You didn't need to yell.”

“Apparently I
did
, because why haven't I heard this before? And why do you sound guilty?”

Duh, because Alaina felt bad for not saying anything sooner. “It's not a big deal.”

“You passed on handing out the best costume award at the Oscars. That's not
not
a big deal.”

Alaina winced. “Okay, it's a minor deal. Really, it's nothing important. He's a nice guy. We hang out. That's it.”

“Are you sleeping with him? Because that would make total sense. You haven't been with a guy in forever.”

Alaina rolled her eyes and took a sip of beer. “Glad to know you're keeping track.”

“You didn't answer the question.”

“Nope.”

“Then I have my answer. And yay! I'm glad. It's about time you tried a normal relationship with someone outside of the business. I hope you'll actually let this one get close.”

“You don't know anything about him. Maybe he's an actor. Or a writer. Or a director.”

“You're in Bumfuck, Egypt—I highly doubt it.” She sucked in a breath. “Wait. You're visiting your producing partner . . . But I thought he was married.”

“He is—and happily so. It's not him.”

“Then who is it?”

Alaina heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open and close. “Hey, I've gotta go. Dinner's here.”

“What does that mean?”

“Pizza. I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Because you have a date, and you'll be busy. Mmm-hmmm. I see how it is. I want a full report—you owe me that much!”

“Bye. Love you!” Alaina disconnected and rushed to the door just as Evan reached the landing.

He looked so good, a heathered green crewneck sweater peeking out from the top of his leather jacket, his gray eyes sharp and sexy as they raked over her. And he smelled like a dark, damp winter's night.

“Is it raining?” she asked, moving aside to let him in. It had rained that afternoon for a while.

He strode past her and set the pizza box on the counter. “Yeah.” He shucked his wet coat, and she took it from him to hang it on one of the hooks by the door. “Cold, too.”

“I have the fireplace going—we'll get you warmed up in no time.”

He reached for her, clasping her waist and pulling her against his chest. “Sounds good.” He lowered his mouth to hers, and she wound her arms around his neck, stretching up into the kiss. Heat fired her belly as his tongue found hers and licked her in delicious, lavish strokes.