by Darcy Burke
He set his hands on his hips as his eyes clouded. “It’s important, but I wouldn’t say it trumps everything.”
She wanted to ask him what he’d do if Dale forced him to produce the sensationalist show he wanted, but she was too afraid of the answer. “You say that, but I see what’s really happening. You’ll do what you have to in order to succeed.” As he’d said when she’d asked about Europe, he’d argue he didn’t have a choice.
“What are you saying? That you can’t trust me to do this right?” He stared at her in silence. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Wow. I guess I know where we stand. I think it’s time we stop dragging out the inevitable. I’ll give you your divorce—not because I don’t need you now that I have the show, but because it’s clear you don’t trust me.” The bitterness in his voice squeezed her chest.
This was what she wanted, what she’d asked for. But spending time with him had triggered all the things she’d forced herself to forget—their friendship, their attraction, their crazy shouldn’t-be-so-strong-but-was love. Yes, love. She’d loved him then, and she loved him now. And she knew he loved her. But maybe that wasn’t enough. “I can’t believe you’re serious.”
“Believe it. And anyway, now you’re getting what you wanted.” His eyes were sad, but his tone was unemotional, just . . . flat. It made her insides congeal into a solid, unpleasant mass. “My job is the most important thing to me right now. That shouldn’t surprise you—in the absence of your affection, I’ve invested my energies elsewhere, and hey, it’s paying off. Things are really looking up for me. So thank you.”
He was thanking her for pushing him away? How had this happened? A few hours ago, they’d woken up and made love one last time—God, was it the last time?—before driving home. Now he was ready to put it all behind him and move on.
He pivoted and put his hand on the doorknob. “Listen, I need to get back downstairs. Are we good? I know it’s bound to be awkward, but I’ll do my best to keep things professional. I’ll talk to a lawyer when I’m back in LA. For now, you have to trust me to do this show in a way that will make you and your family proud.” He opened the door and paused, looking back over his shoulder. He looked like he might say something. She held her breath, waiting, but in the end, he left, closing the door behind him. She stood there, mute, while she tried to process what had just happened. He was giving her a divorce?
She took a few steps back and sank down onto the edge of her bed. Last weekend she’d gone to great lengths to try to get him to do exactly what he’d just done—offer her a divorce. But now she wasn’t sure she wanted it.
Was it because she’d fallen back under the spell of their crazy attraction? That wasn’t enough to sustain a marriage. And she couldn’t fault his reasoning. They were focused on their jobs. Wasn’t this the argument she’d been making all along, that they’d jumped the gun getting married so fast?
Her head told her this was the right decision. Too bad her heart didn’t agree.
Chapter Nineteen
SEAN SLAMMED THE exterior door of the garage apartment, stalked up the stairs, and slammed the next door too as he went inside. He was breathing heavily, not from exertion, but from anger. Had he really just told Tori he wanted a divorce?
He went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. It wasn’t an Archer beer—they didn’t sell them in bottles—which was for the best. Once her family found out they were splitsville, he’d be persona non grata, and he doubted he’d set foot in one of their pubs again. Hell, once they found out they all needed to cough up the nitty-gritty details on Alex’s death, he’d wish he was persona non grata. Chances were they’d make a voodoo doll of him or something.
No, he’d make sure they were comfortable with everything the production did. He’d promised to make a show they’d be proud of, and he kept his promises.
Except the one he’d made Tori when he’d taken her as his wife, apparently.
Fuck it all.
He downed a quarter of the beer. He’d tried, damn it. He’d tried, and it hadn’t been enough. And he was tired of trying when he just kept getting kicked in the gut.
Her face when he’d said the word “divorce” . . . She’d been shocked. He’d actually taken a perverse pleasure in that, and he wasn’t proud of it. She’d gotten what she wanted, and her shock had been due to the fact that she couldn’t actually believe it.
Come on, mate, did she still want that? What about the last few days at the cabin?
All of it had been in a fantasyland, just like the time they’d spent together months ago. None of it had taken place in the real world, not really. They didn’t have a relationship that functioned with jobs and commitments and compromise.
He heard footsteps on the stairs and tensed. Which Archer would it be? Or would it be Dale? At the moment, Sean couldn’t decide which one would be worse. He tossed back another quarter of the beer.
The inevitable knock came. Sean set his beer on the counter with a clack and threw open the door. “Oh, it’s you.”
Mike’s brow furrowed in confusion. “How should I take that?”
“I don’t care.” Sean turned from the door, picked up his beer, and went to the windows to look down at the crew bustling about. They were going to film some exteriors before interviewing their first subject: Sara.
The door closed, but Sean didn’t turn.
“So, things are going well?” Mike sounded as if he was approaching behind Sean.
Sean laughed, but there was no humor in it. “What gave it away?” Suddenly he had no interest in being amenable or easygoing. He spun around and didn’t bother stifling his glare. “What are you doing here? Come to micromanage me like Dale?”
Mike held up a hand, his eyes wide. “Whoa, settle down, bro.”
I am not your bro. Sean gritted his teeth.
Mike went to the table and pulled a chair out. He sat and indicated the other chair. “What’s the problem?”
Sean wasn’t sitting. He had too much angry energy coursing through him. “Dale’s fucking up my show. That’s the problem. You didn’t tell me he wanted a tabloid program.”
Mike had the grace to look apologetic. “If I’d told you, would you have come up here and made it happen?”
Sean wanted to shout with frustration. “No. That was a dick move, Mike.”
Mike shrugged, and any remorse he might’ve felt seemed to have vanished. “What can I say? Dale thinks this will open up a whole bunch of opportunities for us. Reality drama is a major cash cow.”
Brilliant, the Archers got to be his guinea pigs. “I don’t know if they’ll give him what he wants.”
Mike leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “What do you mean?”
“I mean they won’t sell out their brother’s memory. Christ, Mike, he wants absolute emotional breakdown. I can’t ask these people to do that—especially on camera.”
“You better figure it out, or Dale’s going to fire you.”
“I know. And blacklist me to boot.” Sean downed the rest of his beer. He knew he should offer one to Mike, but he wasn’t feeling particularly generous. “You didn’t answer my question—what are you doing here?”
Mike stood. “Just wanted to check things out. Okay, and maybe smooth your feathers a little.”
“Because you knew what Dale meant to do.”
“Yep. Just like I knew you’d balk because of your wife. I came here to remind you that this is a job, and if you weren’t in love with one of the family members, you’d be doing it without question or discomfort. Am I right?”
Six months ago—hell, six days ago—Sean would’ve said yes. He’d worked really hard to get where he was and, until Tori, his career had been everything. But over the last few days, his perspective had changed. He didn’t want to put his career in front of her. He’d hoped to have both his job and his wife, but that clearly wasn’t possible. Not this job, certainly, and not this wife.
Mike came and clapped him on the shoulder. “Look,
man, I’m really sorry about the position you’re in. Tori will come around. They always do. If I could help you out, I would, but my hands are tied here.”
Sean was certain that was total horseshit, but it didn’t matter anyway. He was certain he’d be out of a job soon—he just needed to hang on long enough to ensure the show’s integrity. Then he could move on, just like Tori wanted him to.
WITH HER HAIR styled straight and wearing a simple-but-stylish pair of slacks and sweater with one of her favorite statement necklaces, Tori made her way downstairs to breakfast the next morning, her entire body tense and on guard. She’d avoided the production and crew yesterday, not that she’d really needed to. No one had come looking for her. They’d filmed Sara in the afternoon and Kyle in the evening, but she hadn’t spoken to them about it.
Tori assumed they’d want to interview her today. The others weren’t even in Ribbon Ridge, except Derek, and he hadn’t been part of the original show. They’d still contracted him for a segment, though. She just didn’t know what that would be. Then there was Mom and Dad, who were supposed to be interviewed together. But really, who knew what would happen? It seemed like all bets were off.
Which meant maybe she wouldn’t be interviewed today. Maybe Sean was purposefully making her stew.
No, he wouldn’t do that. They might be splitting up, but he still cared for her. Didn’t he?
Just thinking the words “splitting up” made her queasy. She’d barely slept, knowing he was so close but thinking he might’ve been half a world away again. She’d never missed him more, and he was near enough for her to reach.
As she went into the kitchen, she saw that Sara, Maggie, Mom, and Chloe were already congregated around the table.
“Morning,” Chloe called. “There are some bagels and fruit over there. The production crew insisted on providing food.”
Tori poured a cup of coffee and helped herself to a small plate of fruit. That was all her stomach was up for at the moment. She joined the rest of them at the table and was immediately the subject of four curious stares.
She sipped her coffee and paused in setting it down on the table. “What?”
“Are you all right?” Sara, sitting directly across from Tori, leaned forward in her chair. “You barely said anything at dinner, and then you disappeared.” They’d had Chinese takeout, and it had been a bit of a zoo. Tori had taken her food to the bonus room upstairs as soon as she’d dished it up. Then she’d spent the rest of the night binge-watching House of Cards.
Tori shrugged, not wanting to talk about Sean. Or at least not wanting to tell everyone that he’d decided to divorce her. Yeah, definitely that. “How did your and Kyle’s segments go?”
Tori moved her fruit around her plate before forking a small piece of pineapple. She was both desperately curious and uncomfortably afraid to hear what had transpired.
“It was fine, actually,” Sara said, glancing at Mom, who nodded.
“You watched it?” Tori asked Mom.
“I did, and it wasn’t bad.”
Tori looked back at Sara. “You didn’t have to talk about Alex?”
“I did—a bit. It was nice, though. I talked about how much he loved the show, shared his favorite episode,” she said, pausing to smile at Mom, “when we put Dad in the dunk tank at the Ribbon Ridge Festival.”
Tori shook her head. “No, no. It was the Halloween episode where we dressed up as the seven dwarves and nobody wanted to be Dopey.”
Mom’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that might have been his favorite actually.”
Sara pursed her lips and set her elbow on the table to rest her head on the heel of her hand. “Okay, maybe. But the dunk tank was hilarious. And Alex was the one to dunk Dad.”
Tori laughed. “True. And I actually think you’re right. That was probably his favorite.” Anything in which he’d come out the victor had made him feel great. And this felt great, talking about Alex without sadness shadowing the conversation. They needed to do that more often.
Feeling a little better, Tori ate some of her fruit, while Sara told Maggie and Chloe about the dunking episode. They’d all taken turns at trying to dunk Dad, with Kyle and Liam spending an inordinate amount of time talking trash. But it had been Alex who’d done the deed, much to everyone’s surprise—and delight.
“So,” Maggie said before clearing her throat, “what’s going on with you and Sean? He sat in on Kyle’s interview last night, but no one’s seen him since.”
And just like that, Tori’s appetite diminished once more. “I’m sure he’s really busy.”
“You haven’t seen him either?” Sara asked.
“No. Like I said, he’s busy.”
Again, all four pairs of eyes stared at her with unabashed curiosity.
Chloe, seated on Tori’s right, angled toward her. “What happened? Sara said you had a good time together up at the mountain.”
Because the production crew had already been at the house and things had gone from zero to sixty as soon as she and Sean had arrived, Tori had given Sara the abbreviated version of their getaway. She’d only said they’d spent the time reacquainting themselves and that things between them were good. Maybe she’d even said great. Damn, why had she said anything at all? Life had been so much easier when she’d pretended she wasn’t married.
“Yeah, it was good,” Tori said, drinking her coffee and wishing she hadn’t come downstairs. She didn’t want to talk about Sean. But she’d have to at some point. It wasn’t going to take a rocket scientist to figure out they weren’t together.
Why not tell them?
Because she didn’t want the divorce. She didn’t want to put work before their marriage. Yesterday, when he’d laid out his reasons for asking for the divorce, she hadn’t argued. They’d made sense and were even aligned with her own arguments. But that was the old Tori. Yeah, she was a new Tori now—a better Tori. A Tori who didn’t need her work to define or fulfill her. Working on the monastery with her siblings and being back in Ribbon Ridge had shown her what was really important—family, home, love.
“Morning, ladies.” Dale strolled into the kitchen wearing what Tori would describe as an overly effusive smile. But then, she was inclined to find him galling after yesterday. His “silly girl” comment still rankled.
“Good morning,” Mom said, smiling in return. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“I’m glad you asked.” Dale looked around at all of them, his gaze settling on Maggie. “You’re Kyle’s girlfriend, right?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. We’d like to start with you this morning. Just a short interview about how Alex came to start seeing you and whatever you’re comfortable sharing about his treatment.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “That would be nothing. Even if there wasn’t a therapist-patient confidentiality, I’m not comfortable discussing Alex at all.”
Dale pursed his pale lips. He set his hand on his hip, slipping his forefinger into one of the belt loops on his khakis. “You’ve signed a contract to do the show.”
Her answering smile was cool and perhaps borderline acidic. “Actually, I didn’t sign anything, so you can piss off. Excuse me.” She picked up her coffee cup and left the kitchen.
Tori wanted to applaud.
Dale frowned after her. “I didn’t mean to offend her. I didn’t realize she wasn’t contracted.”
“It’s all right, but you must respect her,” Mom said, trying to smooth things over, as she typically did. “I’ll go and talk to her.” She stood and left.
Dale turned his attention back to the three women who remained. “I know Sara and Tori are contracted; are you, too?” He looked at Chloe.
“I am, though I doubt I have much to offer. I just met Derek last Christmas, and I barely knew Alex.” Her brow furrowed. “Though I have to admit I don’t understand why you’re making Alex the focus here. He’s just one part of this family.” Chloe glanced at Sara and Tori. “I don’t mean to diminish him. You get me, ri
ght?”
“Of course,” Tori said, appreciating what Chloe said.
“I understand that.” Dale’s tone was a bit patronizing. “But you need to understand that Alex is the underlying story here. It’s emotional and will resonate with so many people.” He turned his focus to Sara. “On that note, we’re going to need to get some additional film with you this morning, so please wear what you wore yesterday.” He moved his gaze to Tori. “You look fantastic. We’ll shoot you after we get what we need from your sister.”
Sara cleared her throat as she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. “Um, what else do you need from me? I thought yesterday went great.”
“It did, but we need more about Alex and about your sensory processing disorder. Just need to dig a little deeper.”
She crossed her arms and squeezed her biceps, which showed that her sensory defensiveness was amping up. “I think I went deep enough. I said all I wanted to say.”
“Tori, may I speak with you?” Dale asked.
She stood up. “Sure. Let’s go to the living room.” She led him through an arched doorway into the huge great room that was the focal point of the main floor. The production team had apparently decided it was the best place to film. Equipment was set up around the tall, stone fireplace, and an overstuffed chair was situated at an angle in front of it.
Tori walked toward the wide wall of windows that looked out over the backyard and forest area beyond. The bright fall morning bathed the room in gold, giving it a warm, cozy feeling, though Tori felt anything but warm or cozy. She turned to face the man she was quickly beginning to think of as a troll. “What’s up?” Her shoulders tensed as she awaited his response.
“Your family needs to get on board with the tone of this show. We need in-depth conversation about your brother, preferably with some tears. I know that sounds mercenary, but it will make good TV.”
All of her tension hardened into anger. “We’re not a TV show, we’re a family.”
He looked at her as if she’d spouted utter nonsense. “You are a TV show, actually. It was called Seven Is Enough. You have a brand as a family of sextuplets with a seventh ‘oops’ kid. Now you’re missing one, and you aren’t seven anymore. Why is this so hard to understand?”