When Love Happens (12 page)

Tori thought back. She wasn’t sure. It hadn’t been her wedding, after all. In fact, she’d participated in it as little as possible, as it had only reminded her of her own wedding—such as it was. “I don’t know. Oh shit. Wait. We had a caterer.” If only Derek and Kyle, who’d been best friends for years before having a huge falling out, had made up soon enough,
Kyle would’ve done the food. As it was, they’d hired someone. They’d also hired a florist, she was pretty sure, and really, who knew what else? “And a florist, I think. I’ll have to talk to Derek and Chloe.”

“It’s okay, I’ll call him,” Aubrey said.

“How much is the fine?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“Yikes! That’s ridiculous.” She didn’t want to pay it, but at least they
could
pay it.

“And I’ll
be honest, it doesn’t necessarily look good for the appeal—you guys holding events there before things were approved.”

“That’s total crap. It’s not like we hired the space out—
Derek is family
.”

“Sure, but not legally,” Aubrey said. “Listen, don’t get too worked up. Let me get some details from Derek, and I’ll see what I can do to make this go away.”

Tori massaged her forehead again, feeling
more stressed than she had five minutes ago, which was saying something. “You can do that?”

“I can do lots of things.”

Tori heard the smile in her voice and relaxed. “Okay, thanks.”

“So what can I do for you?” Aubrey asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You called me.”

Right. About a divorce attorney. The words stalled on Tori’s tongue. “I wanted to ask about my letter from Alex.” Where had that
come from? Another crowded portion of her mind. She’d been wanting that letter for months, and with Sean back in the picture, everything about Alex’s death, especially his unanswered phone call, had been brought back into focus. “Is there any chance I’m going to get it soon?”

“I really can’t say.” Aubrey’s answer was tentative, measured. “Not because I don’t want to.” She sighed. “Sometimes I’m
so frustrated that he designated me to do this. It puts me in such an awful position, especially when I like all of you so much.”

Alex had chosen Aubrey for a reason. He’d trusted her with something incredibly important, maybe the most important thing of his life. “You should feel privileged to do this for him.” Tori inwardly cringed at how that sounded. Privileged?

Aubrey didn’t immediately
respond. “I liked your brother very much. But I hope you understand that I feel bad about not being able to give you what you want.”

Because Alex had set this all up. Alex was the one torturing her with not knowing. Tori felt a burst of anger toward him, something she hadn’t experienced before. Liam was the one who was pissed, the one who held Alex responsible. And she defended him every time.

“I do understand,” Tori said quietly. “Alex had a disease—not with his lungs, but with his mind.”

Dad had finally shared the truth with them a few months ago: His father hadn’t died in a hunting accident as they’d all thought. Their grandfather had been severely depressed and killed himself, and their grandmother had insisted they cover it up. It certainly seemed as though Alex had inherited
the same sort of depression, and it had only been exacerbated by his respiratory illness.

“You’re right,” Aubrey said. “It’s good to remember that. Thanks for understanding. I know it’s hard. I do have your letter, and you’ll get it in time.”

Tori wanted to tell her about Alex’s phone call, but she hadn’t told anyone other than Sara. That had been painful enough. She wasn’t sure she could go
there again. “Thanks. Keep me posted about the fine.”

“Will do.”

They ended the call, and Tori decided she couldn’t stand the cramped trailer another moment. She gathered up some papers and dumped them into a bag with her laptop. Then she went out to her car and drove home.

It was lunchtime, but she wasn’t really hungry. She could always, however, go for coffee, so she beelined for the kitchen.
Dad was at the counter eating a sandwich.

“Hi, Dad.”

He swallowed. “Hi, Tori. Did you come home for lunch?”

“To work, actually. I’m just going to grab a cup of coffee.”

He nodded. “How’s it going? I haven’t been up to the site since last week.”

Tori set the coffeepot to brew. “Good. Everything’s on schedule, not that it matters if we can’t open when we want to.”

“Because of the zoning issue.”
Dad’s gray eyes darkened. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll take Russ Parker down.”

“Yeah, well we also got slapped with a fine for holding Derek’s wedding before the variance was officially approved.”

Dad swore. “It wasn’t a commercial event. It was a private family wedding.”

“Except Derek isn’t legally family, is he?” Tori leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. “Aubrey’s looking
into fighting it. It’s five thousand bucks.”

“I’m sure Russ was responsible.” Dad swore again. “I don’t get it. He moved out to McMinnville years ago, but he still owns a few plots of land in Ribbon Ridge that he’s doing nothing with. Now, out of the blue, he decides to start a pissing match with our family.”

“Isn’t it because of Mom?” Tori asked.

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Sure, but why now? She
chose me over him years ago. He married someone else and had kids.”

“How’d that happen anyway? You stealing Mom away. Sounds terribly romantic.” She wanted to hear something nice, something happy.

Dad got a far-off look in his eyes and smiled. “Your mom was the best-looking girl at Williver. I’d had an eye on her for a year, but she’d always been with Russ. And he was such a jerk. His dad was
on the board of directors at the college, so he played fast and loose with every rule. His fraternity pulled practical joke after practical joke, but they were never funny. I remember one of them broke some windows in one of the dorms. Some kids were reprimanded, but he wasn’t one of them.”

“Sounds like a total douche.”

Dad took a bite of the pickle nestled next to his sandwich and nodded. “A
couple of friends of your mother actually encouraged me to ask her out. They didn’t like the way Russ treated her—he always expected her to hang out with him, even when she said she should be studying. He was the king of the guilt trips, always telling her he
needed
her.”

“And Mom would’ve bought right into that.” Mom was at her happiest when she was helping and caring for others. “So you asked
her out, and that was that?”

“No.” Dad smiled, and it carried a nostalgic happiness that pulled at Tori’s heartstrings. “I asked several times, and she kept saying no. So I organized a situation in which I could rescue her—again, it was with her friends’ encouragement. And help. The girls went to a huge party at the beach and got separated from your mom.” He used air quotes to indicate the separation
had all been a ruse.

“And?”

“And I just happened to be there and offered her a ride back to school. We ended up talking and spent all night on the beach. I’ve seen a hundred sunsets over the Pacific, but that was the only sunrise. Of course, we had to turn our backs to the ocean to watch it.”

Tori gasped. “You aren’t ever supposed to turn your back on the ocean! That was Mom’s mantra every
time we went to the beach.”

Dad chuckled. “And with good reason. We got drenched by a wave doing exactly that. We went to a nearby motel, where the owner took pity on us and offered to dry our clothes.”

Tori dropped her hands to her sides and went to the island. She set her elbows down and leaned over the counter “Let me get this straight; your first date involved the two of you naked in a motel
room?”

“Not quite.” He laughed. “There were loaner clothes involved. But that’s all I’m going to say about that. Suffice it to say, your mom dumped Russ as soon as she got back to Williver.”

“And you’ve been together ever since.” Tori stood, her chest warm and full. “I can’t believe we never heard that story before.”

“You knew we got together at a beach party.”

“Sure, but not the part about
stealing her from some guy. Does Mom know you organized the whole thing?”

“Of course. You think her friends could keep that quiet? They spilled the beans as soon as she got back to their dorm.”

“And she wasn’t mad?”

Dad’s gaze grew wistful, and his lips curved up. “Not at all. By then it was too late. I think we were already falling in love. I know I was. But then, I’d loved her for a while.”

Tears pricked Tori’s eyes. Hearing this gave her hope that they would find their way back to each other. “I think you should organize another beach getaway—just the two of you. Maybe that same motel.”

Dad looked at her in surprise. “I don’t know that it’s still there. And geez, if it still is, it’s probably a dive by now. That was over thirty-five years ago, and it’d been a hole in the wall then.”

“Then take her somewhere else close by. The beach you were on is definitely still there. You should go watch the sunrise.” The coffeepot sounded that it was ready. Tori turned and grabbed a mug from the cabinet.

Dad finished his sandwich and put his plate in the sink. He brushed a kiss on Tori’s forehead. “I’ll think about that.”

She grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting
it go. “Don’t think too long. You guys love each other, and you deserve to be happy.”

“So do you, Pumpkin.” He hadn’t called her that in ages. It wasn’t like when he called Sara “Kitten.” He called Tori “Pumpkin” only when he was trying to impart something really important. “What about you and Sean? He seems like a decent guy. Your mom really likes him.”

Everybody really liked him, and they
didn’t understand why she’d asked him for a divorce. “He
is
a decent guy. It’s just . . . It’s complicated.” There was no way she was getting into how Alex’s death had doomed this marriage from the start. Dad had made great progress with his grief in recent weeks, and Tori was not going to be the one to dredge up sadness.

“He told me he was head over heels in love with you. Or something close
to that. And I could see that it was true. You just reminded me that love may not solve everything, but it provides the basis for a happy life. Don’t turn your back on love, Pumpkin.”

“Just like the ocean.” She grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”

He smiled at her and left.

She poured her coffee and stared at the black brew for a long minute. She remembered the day Sean had said he’d loved her. They’d been
in Santa Monica at the pier. She smiled as she realized their story involved a beach, too. They’d come across a couple writing their names inside a big heart in the sand. He’d offered to do the same, and she’d laughed, saying, “Shouldn’t we be in love first?” They’d only known each other a few weeks at that point.

His lips had curved into that sexy, bone-melting smile, and he’d said, “I am. And
if you aren’t yet, that’s fine. I can wait.” Then he’d found a stick and written “I love Tori” in the sand, with a heart in place of the word “love.”

It had taken her until Vegas to say it, but she’d fallen in love with him, too. Or so she’d thought. She wondered if it had all just been a crazy dream. If it had been love, Dad was right—she owed it to herself, if not Sean, to try to make things
work. But comparing their whirlwind affair to her parents’ thirty-five-year-plus relationship was like comparing peas to watermelons; they weren’t even both fruits.

Whatever had happened between her and Sean back in January was long gone, and the sooner he accepted that, the better. This back and forth—this uncertainty—was exhausting. As everyone kept pointing out, she needed to get back to the
business of living. She needed to move on. And she had to do it without Sean.

S
EAN PULLED THROUGH
the porte cochere at the Archer estate and parked next to the garage with the upstairs apartment. He hadn’t told Tori he was coming, but that was part of his plan. He wanted to catch her off guard.

He stepped out of the rental car into the dusk and inhaled the fresh scent of pine and grass. He’d loved moving to LA, but being here reminded him of the Cotswolds,
and he felt a pang of homesickness. The breeze stirred, tousling his hair and sending a chill over his shoulders—he’d left his jacket on the backseat. The leaves around him rustled, some of them drifting through the air in flashes of gold and red. He missed the seasons.

He looked at the house and hesitated. Maybe arriving at dinnertime wasn’t the best idea. He didn’t really want to talk to everyone,
at least not at first. He wanted everyone on board with the show, but once he had Tori’s consent, she’d theoretically help him with the rest. Her parents, he thought, might be the tough sell. But then, they’d agreed to allow their kids to be filmed as tweens in the first place.

Sean had done some research the past few days. A family friend of the Archers had pitched the idea for a show about
America’s first surviving set of sextuplets. It was, ironically, supposed to be a one-hour special to air around the holidays. But once the production crew had met with the Archers, they’d all agreed it would be fun to try a series. They’d filmed twelve episodes, and it had been an instant hit.

Sean had tried to talk to that producer—their friend—but he’d unfortunately passed away a few years
ago. Instead, he’d spoken to the man’s former assistant. While he’d been helpful providing information, he hadn’t been able to offer anything in the way of pointers on talking to the family.

A stronger breeze blew over him and jolted him to move toward the house. As he rounded the car, Tori ran up from the backyard. Dressed in a bright green running shirt, she stopped when she saw him. She pulled
her earbuds out. Her cheeks were flushed, and she breathed heavily.

“Sean, when did you get here?”

“Just now.” He walked toward her. Even sweaty, she looked beautiful, her hair pulled back in that sexy ponytail again. He paused a few feet away from her, recalling how the last time he’d seen her—in the trailer up at The Alex—they’d snogged like college kids. He doubted things would progress in
that direction, but a part of him could hope.

He silently admonished himself. He hadn’t come here to make nice. He’d come here to get his show produced so he could keep his job. “I was hoping you’d changed your mind about doing the show.”

“No, I haven’t. You could’ve called and asked.”

“I could’ve, but I have a proposition for you—and no, it doesn’t involve making our marriage work.” He dosed
the last part with a healthy bit of sarcasm.

She draped the cord of her earbuds around her neck. “I hadn’t taken you for a smart-ass before. But like I keep saying, we barely know each other. I’m sure there are lots of things we wouldn’t like about each other.” Her head snapped up, and she blinked at him. She seemed to become acutely aware of something.

Did he have a leaf in his hair or spinach
in his teeth from the salad he’d eaten at the airport? “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Her features relaxed into a smile, and he was instantly suspicious.

Whatever. He didn’t have time for games. “I came to offer you a deal.”

“Really?” She stretched her arms up and did some shoulder exercises. She pushed her chest forward, and her breasts strained against her shirt. Sean swallowed and forced himself
to look at nothing but her face. “What’s your offer?”

“I need this show. Consent to doing it, and I’ll give you the divorce. As quick as you want one.”

She slowly lowered her arms. “What changed your mind?”

“You’ve been pretty clear in your desire to put the marriage behind you. And I want this show. If divorcing you is the only way I can get it, then that’s what I’ll do.”

She arched a brow
as she sank into a hip flexor exercise. “Actually, you said you
needed
this show, but whatever. I still don’t want to do it.”

Another breeze chilled his shoulders, and he wished he’d put his coat on. She looked perfectly fine, but she’d just run a billion miles. He set his hands on his hips. “Wow, you’re stubborn. Not even the divorce will persuade you?”

“It’s a compelling offer, I’ll give you
that.” She switched sides with her legs, stretching her muscles, and damn if it wasn’t arousing. He began to suspect that Tori filing her nails would give him a hard-on. “But I’ve been thinking, and I have a proposal of my own.” She finished stretching and stood straight. “What if we see how things really would be between us if we’d gotten married like people usually do?”

Warning bells sounded
in his head. She’d been so insistent on having her space, on working through Alex’s death, on keeping Sean at bay. She hadn’t even been able to tolerate a week with him, and that had just been a few days ago. What had changed?

“You look confused.” She took a few steps toward him. “Would you rather not try living together?”

She was close enough that he could smell her sweat, which mingled with
the scent of the outdoors. It combined to make an alluring fragrance. He was absolutely buggered when it came to her.

“Sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, I would like to try living together.” He would? He’d come to terms with a divorce—or was trying to anyway. He spoke slowly, measuredly. “How do we do that?”

“I’ll stay in the garage apartment with you.” She cocked her head to the side, and
her ponytail grazed against her shoulder. “If that’s okay.”

The apartment was small, just one bedroom. They’d be on top of each other. Not literally, but that might be nice. “I don’t understand your complete change of attitude. You asked me for a divorce on Monday.”

She shrugged. “You were quite persuasive, and you showing up here makes me think I really ought to at least try.”

He was still
suspicious but also just a tiny bit hopeful. “You want to start tonight?” Talk about a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn from where he thought he’d be.

“Sure. Just let me shower and get some things. I’ll bring something over for dinner.”

He stared at her, remembering what Kyle had told him. “You’re going to cook?”

She laughed. “Don’t sound so worried. I’m not always a terrible cook. And Kyle’s
been giving me pointers. It’ll be great.”

An hour later, smoke filled the apartment, and the fire alarm pealed. Sean rushed to open windows as Tori stood waving a towel over the still-smoking pan she’d thrown into the kitchen sink.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know how that happened so fast.”

He suspected she’d simply put the temperature on too high, but he didn’t say anything. She’d tried to
make dinner, and he wasn’t about to be ungrateful. “It’s all right. I’m sure I can get something from the house.”

“No, we’re supposed to be living here like a married couple. There’s no house next door as a safety net. I’ll order pizza.”

“They deliver out here?”

“Oh sure.” She waved at him nonchalantly. “I’ll go order it on my iPad.” She flashed him a smile and disappeared into the bedroom,
where she’d set her stuff when she’d arrived. His things were also in there, but they hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements. If she meant to give this a real go, didn’t that mean they ought to share the bed?

Hold on there, bastard.

Two hours ago he’d been ready for scorched earth—
do the show, and I’ll give you a divorce
. But he hadn’t made that offer lightly. He hadn’t wanted to end the marriage,
not without truly making a go of it. However, she’d made it clear during his previous visit that she didn’t want to stay married, so he’d resigned himself to ending it.

Yeah, well plans change, wanker.

Was there a chance he could have the marriage
and
the show? His mind grasped that thought and held it close. Wasn’t he due for something good?

She emerged from the bedroom. “Pizza’s all ordered.
It’ll be here in about forty minutes.” She went back to the kitchen and frowned at the mess. “I’ll deal with this tomorrow. You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

She grabbed two from the fridge and popped the caps off. One landed in the sink inside the burned pan, and the other clinked to the floor. She didn’t retrieve either. In fact, he wondered if she’d even noticed where they’d gone.

She handed him
his bottle and said, “Cheers!” She clacked her glass with his but was too forceful, and beer sloshed over onto their hands and the hardwood floor. “Oops, sorry!”

“No problem. I’ll get paper towels.”

“I don’t need one.” She wiped her hand on her yoga pants and then dropped onto the couch.

He went to the kitchen, rinsed his hand, and mopped up the beer from the floor. Once that was done, he set
about cleaning the burned pan in the sink. He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to banish the burned scent wafting from it.

The TV went on, and Tori squealed. “Oooh, a
Toddlers and Tiaras
marathon!”

He turned the faucet off. “Wait a minute, I thought you hated those types of reality shows.”

“Not at all.” She swigged her beer, and a bit dripped down her chin. She swiped it up with her finger
and licked the digit clean. If the act hadn’t been so graceless, he might’ve been turned on. But maybe it was the whining child on the TV killing his sex drive. “I love train-wreck reality TV.”

He obviously made his living producing reality TV, but there was a line, and this show crossed it. He went back to scrubbing the pan, managing to get it clean after several minutes. He set it aside and
was drying his hands when the doorbell rang.

“You’ll have to go down to get it,” she called from the couch, without turning.

He let himself out of the apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar, and went down the stairs to the front door. He paid for the pizza and took it upstairs. “Dinner’s ready.”

He set the pizza on the counter and grabbed a couple of plates. “Can I dish you up?”

“Sure.”

He opened the box and gaped at the pizza. It was piled high with four kinds of meat, sardines, and an array of vegetables, including artichoke hearts, which he knew Tori despised.

He looked over at where she sat on the couch, her eyes glued to the horrendous TV show that he never would’ve guessed in a million years she’d watch, let alone like. She was completely gaslighting him or at least trying
to dupe him—all so he would give her a divorce, he’d bet.

He narrowed his eyes. Two could play at that game.

Sliding a piece of pizza onto her plate, he made sure to add extra artichoke hearts. He took it to her with a broad smile. “Here you go.”

She glanced down at the slice, and he sensed her hesitation. “Aren’t you going to eat it? You ordered all your favorite toppings, right?”

Without
a word, she took a huge bite. Amid the chewing, she said, “Delicious. By the way, I thought I’d take the bed tonight, and you could have the couch. I think we should take things slow.”

He nearly laughed at her attempt to gross him out by talking with her mouth full of half-chewed pizza. Instead, he pasted a placid smile on his face. “Can I get you another piece?”

“Please.” She grinned back at
him, showing more food between her teeth, and then went back to watching the television.

He brought her another piece of pizza and then picked off half the toppings from his piece before choking it down. God, he hated sardines, and he’d missed one.

After grabbing another beer from the fridge, he sat next to her on the couch. An episode of the ghastly show was just finishing up. “Any chance I
can persuade you to change the channel?” he asked.

“None.” She turned to look at him, her expression pained—almost in an exaggerated way—and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m being a TV hog. What do you want to watch?”

“Anything else.”

“Okay, sure.” She picked up the remote and surfed for a minute until landing on
Storage Wars
.

“Stop!” He couldn’t think of
a show he wanted to watch less. Actually he could, given what he’d already been forced to endure tonight, but he was eager to see if she could take what she dished out. “I love this show.” He caught the look of surprise she flashed him.

“Have at it then,” she said, yawning. “I’m heading to bed.” She handed him the remote.

“Really? I was hoping you’d watch it with me. We’re supposed to be reconnecting,
aren’t we?”

She belched. Loudly. “Oops.” She stood and stretched, yawning again. “I think I’d better turn in. See you in the morning.”

She traipsed into the bedroom and shut the door. He had his answer: She could dish it out, but she didn’t want to take it. He turned the TV off and stood up to get ready for bed.

Would she continue her campaign tomorrow? He hoped not but figured she probably
would. And in that case, what was the point of all this? She wanted her divorce, and he needed the show. He’d offered a mutually satisfying solution, which she’d disdained.

It was going to come down to who had more stamina—and who wanted his or her objective more. Sean would play her game, and he meant to win.

W
HEN THE ALARM
on her phone sounded at 4:55 a.m., Tori reconsidered Operation Divorce
Me. Without opening her eyes, she rolled over and turned the alarm off. She didn’t
have
to get up this early. No, but her plan would go so much faster if she did.

What had she been thinking when she’d come up with this crazy idea to drive him to divorce her? He’d shocked her by offering the divorce yesterday, but she hadn’t liked his terms. She wanted the divorce—more importantly, she wanted
him and the memories of Alex he dredged up out of her life. And doing the show wouldn’t accomplish that.

While talking with him outside yesterday, she’d said there were lots of things they probably wouldn’t like about each other. The idea to show him exactly what those things were—even if she had to manufacture them—had overtaken her. If she could show him that she’d be an awful wife, that he’d
be miserable with her, he’d be more than happy to give her the divorce. And in his haste to get away from her as quickly as possible, he’d leave without bothering about the show.