by Darcy Burke
AFTER MAKING LOVE on the couch in front of the fire, they’d searched the dated DVD collection and settled on Notting Hill. A movie with an American girl dating a British guy seemed too perfect to ignore, and both of them counted it as one of their favorite romantic comedies. Despite that, Tori had dozed off by the end, and Sean carried her to the bedroom and tucked her in.
He went back to the living room to close up the fireplace and clean up the wineglasses. He eyed his phone and then picked it up. Sitting on the couch, he texted Mike—uncaring that it was after eleven on a Monday night. If Mike could text him at all hours, Sean could return the favor.
Sean: Show’s on.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the response came almost immediately: Yeah? Great! I’ll let Dale know. He’ll be thrilled.
Sean: Kyle’s on board for the series about the restaurant, too.
Mike: Good. Let’s get this Christmas thing going first. I can have a crew up there on Thursday.
Thursday was fast. But if they were going to air in mid-December, they had to get filming now.
Sean: Contracts?
Mike: I’ll have them overnighted tomorrow for Wednesday delivery.
Sean would let Kyle know to expect them.
Sean: I’ll get you an address tomorrow. Director?
Mike: Peter’s available. Just start working up some preliminary segments.
Sean: Already on it.
Not really, but he had ideas, and he’d make some notes before he went to bed. He tossed his phone aside and leaned his head back, slumping down into the comfy sofa. That gave him and Tori two days to spend here, and given the way the snow was falling, they might not be able to leave before then anyway. Maybe this could be the honeymoon they’d never had. Then, when he finished Kyle’s series, he’d take a nice, long, overdue vacation. He’d take her to England to meet his parents and then for a cozy, romantic weekend in the Scottish Highlands. He knew just the B and B he’d take her to near Inverness.
He swiped a hand over his face and told himself to chill. They hadn’t discussed two days from now, let alone some nebulous future. He had no idea what was in Tori’s head. Just because they’d fallen into bed and found their way back to the companionship they’d enjoyed when they’d met, didn’t mean all was well.
There were things to resolve, issues to discuss, and commitments to make. He wanted to be in this for the long haul—he’d meant it when he’d taken his vows. He’d also meant it when he’d said he loved her. Did she, however, still love him? She had yet to say, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. That wasn’t a question you posed when you weren’t already fairly certain of the answer.
He pushed himself off the couch and found his workbag. He pulled his laptop out and sat back down to type in some thoughts about the show. He imagined them reminiscing about the show—individually and as a group. He’d have to see when Evan and Liam planned to come home and wondered if Hayden coming was even an option. Might have to Skype him or have someone in France film him. Sean had a few contacts over there after the last project and made a note to send some e-mails.
The words began to jumble on the screen, and he yawned. He glanced at the fire, saw that it had burned to embers, and realized it was past one in the morning. Clapping the laptop closed, he set it aside and stood.
He went into the bedroom where hazy moonlight filtered through the uncovered windows that were situated high on the wall above the bed. Tori lay on her back, her arm sprawled over his pillow. Her hair streamed across her other arm, which was tucked up near her head. She was always beautiful, but in repose like this, she showed a vulnerability that she rarely exposed. He put his knee on the bed and leaned down to kiss her forehead.
She sighed as he slid beneath the covers, moving her arm and turning to her side. “I love you,” she murmured as she settled into her new position.
Sean’s chest swelled. Was she aware she’d said it, or was she in the throes of a dream?
Don’t overthink it, mate.
He spooned her, and she snuggled back against him. He brushed his lips against her ear and whispered, “I love you, too.”
THE LAST TWO days had been among the best of Sean’s life. The snow hadn’t blocked them in, but they’d chosen to remain cabin-bound anyway. He’d had to work—there was so much to do to prep for the shoot—but they’d taken plenty of time for each other. By Wednesday evening, however, they’d both decided it was time to get out, and he’d asked where they could go for a romantic dinner. She’d brought him to Timberline Lodge. Situated high on Mt. Hood, it had been built in the 1930s as part of the WPA. It boasted overnight accommodations and several bars and restaurants, including the Cascade Dining Room, where they were currently situated near a window with a gorgeous view down the mountain.
“Great idea, coming here,” Sean said.
Tori smiled at him. “I’m glad you like it. Sorry I didn’t have anything better to wear, but since it’s Oregon, no one raises an eyebrow at me wearing jeans and boots with a sweater to a nice dinner.”
“You look great. You always do.” He took a drink of water while they were waiting for the beer they’d just ordered. “In fact, I prefer you in nothing at all.”
“Good thing, since that seems to have been my primary outfit the past two days.” Her look turned provocative.
“Careful or you’re going to have to show me where we can steal a few private moments.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You are such a bad influence. I never engaged in public sex until I met you.”
“And I didn’t until I met you. Guess we’re just naughty together.”
A man who wasn’t their server strode toward their table with two pint glasses. He had dark, shaggy hair and looked to be in his midthirties. His lips curled into a smile as he approached. “Tori Archer! Kent said that was you, but I said you didn’t like us anymore. You haven’t been up since last Thanksgiving.” He set their beers down on the table.
“I know. It’s been a strange year.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Shit, sorry. That’s right. We were all so sorry to hear about Alex. Please give your folks my best.”
“Thanks. We’re all just muddling through. Tom, this is my husband, Sean Hennessy. Sean, this is Tom. I think he lives at the Ram’s Head upstairs. When he’s not working, he’s always hanging out—unless he’s on the slopes.”
“True enough.” Tom grinned and shook Sean’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Husband, eh?” He nodded admiringly. “There are going to be quite a few pissed-off guys when I tell them Tori’s off the market.”
Sean didn’t doubt it. “I can imagine. Just be sure you tell them.”
Tom laughed, clapped Sean on the shoulder, and took himself off with a parting, “Better see you guys up here again soon!”
Sean took a drink of the local brewpub’s porter. Another great beer—he was beginning to think he should do a show about a monthlong brewpub crawl through the entire state of Oregon. And he wasn’t sure that would be ample time to do it justice.
“He seems like a nice guy,” Sean said.
“He is.” Tori sipped her IPA. “We’ve known him a long time. Liam and Hayden ski with him sometimes. He teaches during the high season.”
“Just the two of them?”
“And me. The three of us are the biggest skiers in the family. I should clarify that as downhill snow skiers. Mom and Dad like cross-country, and Kyle’s a really great water-skier.”
“But you haven’t been in almost a year—at least not here.”
“Not anywhere. I usually come up at least once a month during the season, but I didn’t last year. I was busy in January.” She gave him another seductive look that heated his groin.
“Knock it off,” he practically growled as he shifted in his seat. The server returned and took their order.
Sean thought back to what Tom had said and hoped he would see him here again soon. He’d been skiing only a few times, and he wanted to try out the legendary Mt. Hood sl
opes, especially with Tori. With him working on the show here, it seemed likely they’d come back, maybe even next month. But they hadn’t discussed anything past dinner tonight. He figured it was time they did.
He took a long pull on his porter. “I was thinking I’d like to come back up here and ski with you, but that would require us to actually discuss the future.”
She glanced over at him before tracing her finger along her fork and then tucking her hand in her lap. “I suppose we should talk about that.”
“Since I’ll be doing the show, I’ll be here for several weeks. I might have to go to LA a few times, and I’ll have to go back and get it put together with the director sometime next month.” He calculated the timeline and realized he actually wouldn’t have much time to spend with her, at least not until right before Christmas. Wait, he’d already told his parents he’d see them then, and he couldn’t disappoint them again.
She set her phone on the table and pulled up her calendar. “I go to San Francisco at least twice a month for a few days. I usually have meetings, plus I like to check in on my condo. A neighbor is keeping tabs on it, but I like to pretend I still live there.” She looked over at him. “How long will you be here filming?”
He accessed his calendar and looked it over. “It’s not set in stone yet, but we’ll hopefully have everything wrapped by the first week or so of November.”
“Wow, that fast?”
“My boss wants this on by Christmas.”
“I had no idea you could produce something so quickly.” She sounded impressed.
“It’s doable. Television series can produce an episode faster than this.”
“Okay, so after that you’ll be in LA?”
“Yeah.”
“You could come up on the weekends? Or I could go to LA?” That was how they’d done it before—not every weekend, but every other. Granted, it had been a whopping five weeks for a total of three weekend visits, including Vegas.
He looked up from his phone. “I actually think I’m going to be pretty wrapped up until the beginning of December getting the show prepped.”
She stared at him. “Including Thanksgiving?”
“Probably.” His shoulders twitched with discomfort. Was she upset by that? He was hyperaware of the fact that she’d felt abandoned when he’d gone to do the show in Europe, something he never imagined she’d feel, based on their time together. But then, that had been BAD—before Alex’s death. Bloody hell, he was giving it a time designation now?
Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of the server bearing a bottle of Argyle sparkling wine from just outside Ribbon Ridge. “For Mr. and Mrs. Hennessy, with our congratulations.”
He popped the top, drawing the attention of other tables, the occupants of which raised their glasses to Sean and Tori. As soon as their wine was poured, they lifted their glasses in answer and drank. Once the server had tucked the bottle into an ice bucket and left, Sean gave another silent toast to only his wife. “I like the sound of Mrs. Hennessy, but I know you probably want to keep your name.” He took another sip of the delicious wine, thinking it rivaled anything he’d had out of California and some of what he’d had in Europe.
They hadn’t discussed her adopting his name, but he recalled her once saying that if she ever married, she wasn’t sure she’d take her husband’s name, not when she was already so well–known in her job as Tori Archer.
“I haven’t thought about it, to be honest.” She laid her hand flat on the table, her thumb and forefinger pinching the stem of her glass. “There’s a lot we haven’t talked about.”
Like the fact you don’t wear your wedding ring. He’d gotten good at ignoring her bare finger, but it had taken effort.
She must’ve seen him looking at her hand, because she held it up. “I keep it locked in a box at home. I didn’t want to wear it here . . . ” She took another drink of wine.
Because you didn’t want anyone to know you were married. A stab of irritation pierced his good mood, but he shook it off. Everyone knew they were married now, and she even introduced him as her husband. That didn’t mean her months-long attempt to pretend he didn’t exist didn’t still sting. That lingering hurt made him press his hand flat on the table and say, “I took mine off only when you asked me to. And I put it back on as soon as your family found out we were married.” His ring, with a band of Celtic knots etched into the platinum, shimmered in the candlelight on the table.
She looked at him, her eyes sincere. “I’m sorry.”
He felt instantly contrite. They had a lot to make up for, but wasn’t that what they were doing? He hoped so. He reached over and touched her hand. “It’s okay.”
Her lips curved into a small smile. Then she went back to her phone. “So, in December will you be able to come back to Ribbon Ridge? When will you start Kyle’s show? The restaurant will be well under construction by then—barring any problems with this damn zoning issue.”
She’d told him all about that yesterday when he’d talked to her about the concept of Kyle’s show. They hadn’t ever finished the conversation, however, as they’d become distracted by their apparently insatiable lust for each other. “Yes, I’ll hopefully be back up by then, but I may just have to send a film crew if I’m still working on the special.”
She nodded. “So maybe I’ll see you for Christmas?”
He winced. “I should spend it with my folks; I haven’t seen them since last Christmas. You could come with me.”
She set her phone down on the table, her hand resting on top of it. “That’s a possibility, but . . . I don’t know if I want to be gone this first Christmas. My parents are going to need all the support they can get. But I get that your parents need you, too. You didn’t see them at all when you were in Europe?”
He shook his head. “Too busy.” And they couldn’t afford to come and visit him. Weekend jaunts to the continent weren’t in their budget.
“Yeah, I’m getting that impression. Seems like your job is all-encompassing when you’ve got a project going.”
“It’s not so different from your job in that respect,” he said. From what her siblings had said, she lived and breathed her job and this monastery project.
“That’s true, but my family has convinced me I need to cut back.” She glanced away, seeming a bit self-conscious. “I’d been using work as a means to hide from things.”
He reached over and touched her hand. “It’s okay. You’ve turned a corner, right?”
“I think so. I mean, I still like to work, but then again, so do you.” She withdrew her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Will you be doing more overseas project like the one in Europe?” The question sounded innocent, but knowing that his leaving had upset her made his neck prick.
He settled back in his chair. “I don’t know. Will you? I know your job takes you away from San Francisco sometimes.”
“True, but not for extended periods of time.” She traced her fingertip around the base of her wineglass. “Our jobs are really important—we said that when we first met. Nothing’s changed.”
“Working here hasn’t changed anything for you? You’ll just go back to San Francisco?”
“I expect things to go back to the way they were.” She looked down at the table, her finger moving around the glass to where she’d started, then retracing backward to the same point. “Can I ask you something, since we’re discussing how to be married long distance? If I’d asked you not to go to Europe, would you have stayed?”
He knew what he should say, that the answer didn’t really matter since it was in the past. But he didn’t want to lie to her. “I probably wouldn’t have had the luxury to stay. Turning down the job would’ve been the equivalent of losing my job.” Her eyes flickered with surprise. “I need to be honest . . . I wanted that opportunity. It was a major series on a prominent cable network with the potential for more seasons. If you were offered a gig overseas, and it meant an amazing opportunity for growth and recognition
, would you take it?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Probably.”
Her answer should’ve made him feel better, but oddly, it rattled him. The server arrived with their salads, and they immediately dove in.
It seemed their jobs were more than just important to them; they took priority. Was that a bad thing? Not when you were single, but marriage meant sacrifice and compromise, things neither one of them appeared ready to even discuss. Maybe she’d been right when she’d said they’d rushed into things.
No, he didn’t believe that. He loved her. He wanted to be with her, even when his job took him away. Lots of people made long distance work, and they would, too.
He smiled at her between bites of salad but couldn’t shake the feeling of discord that invaded his mind. He only wondered if she felt it, too.
LATER THAT NIGHT, Tori climbed into bed next to Sean. They’d talked about skiing and other things to do on Mt. Hood during dinner, keeping the conversation light and avoiding any further dialogue about work or schedules. He’d made his point about their jobs—they were both ambitious. But in the course of that discussion, she’d begun to wonder if she would take a long-term job if it took her away from everyone she knew and loved. A dull ache in her chest gave her the answer and also made her confused. She hadn’t felt like that before.
Uh-oh, now she was “old-Tori-ing” herself. Snap out of it, Archer. Shit, Archer, Hennessy. Whatever. That conversation hadn’t gone well either. She felt terrible for refusing his name and for stashing her wedding rings in a box to be neglected and forgotten.
This was a transition period, she told herself. She’d gotten married, lost her brother, taken on a huge project that required her to divide her time between two cities—it had been a crazy year. She was finally trying to work through her grief, and accepting that she needed to pull her head out of the sand was a step in the right direction. She and Sean would figure things out, and in a few months, she’d spend more time at her real job and her real home.
So why didn’t that excite her? She liked being home, she realized. Maybe Ribbon Ridge was her real home.