by Darcy Burke
Tears threatened again. Tori nodded, not trusting herself to speak. This hurt like crazy, but it was better than feeling nothing. She loved Sean, and now she knew that love was worth any compromise, any sacrifice.
“What the hell is going on here?” Evan’s voice boomed through the room. He always had trouble modulating his tone, but in some cases it was for the best. And in this case, it was quite effective, as Tori was ecstatic to see him.
“Not much, I’m just having a total emotional breakdown.”
“So I can see.” He frowned as he came into the room, passing a crew member carrying the last of the equipment out. “What’s going on with all that?”
“Show’s off,” Kyle said. “Consider yourself lucky to have missed it. The producer was the world’s biggest asshole.”
Evan’s brow creased with confusion. “Isn’t that Tori’s husband?”
“Different producer, his boss. Never mind, we’ll explain later. Let Tori have her breakdown—she needs to get it all out,” Sara said, patting Tori’s back.
Evan came toward her, and Dad moved aside. “I’m sorry, sis. I didn’t realize things were so bad. I guess I should come home more often.”
“None of us realized,” Kyle said. “We suck.”
“No, I was just really good at hiding it.”
“Still, we’re family,” Derek said, standing next to Chloe, his arm around her shoulders. “We need to do a better job of watching out for each other and calling each other out on our shit. I knew you were struggling, but I also knew you didn’t want to talk about it. Next time I’ll make you.”
“Thanks.” Tori managed to summon a smile despite the headache bursting against her temples as a result of crying so ridiculously. “Now, will you please take care of Dad’s office and Alex’s bedroom?”
“Right.” Kyle waved the others over. “Let me explain.”
Evan didn’t move, however. “Tor, can I talk to you?” At her nod, he took her into the kitchen. “I brought you something.” He pulled a folded envelope from his back pocket and laid it on the counter next to the brew tap.
Alex’s handwriting jolted her. “Is this my letter?”
Evan nodded. “Sara called me earlier when I was on my way down. She said you were having a tough time and that she wished Aubrey would just give you the damn letter. So I stopped and got it for you.”
“She just gave it to you?” Tori blinked at him, wondering why Aubrey had given it to him when she’d refused to give it to Tori until Alex’s predetermined time. “Or is this when I was supposed to get it?”
“No, she said that Alex wanted you to have it on the one-year anniversary of his death. But I told her if she didn’t give it to you, I was going to turn her office upside down until I found it.”
“She believed you?” Evan had a temper, but he wasn’t a violent person. He was huge—the tallest kid in the family—but he was a giant teddy bear once you got to know him, though few people did.
He shrugged. “Apparently. I got the sense she doesn’t like having to dole these things out. But then again, I’m not so great at reading people.”
“You’re better than you think.” She looked at the letter, afraid to open it. “I almost don’t want to read it. What if he wrote it after . . . after that phone call?” She’d talked to Evan on her drive up to the mountain last Sunday and told him what she’d told everyone else at their stupid intervention. Stupid? Not really. In retrospect, it had been exactly what she’d needed.
“So what if he did?” Evan picked up the letter. “Want me to open it? I’ll read it first if you want me to.”
“No, that’s okay.” She took it from him, her fingers trembling. Didn’t she want to know why he’d called? Hadn’t it haunted her for months?
She tore open the envelope and withdrew the paper. Hand-written. Single-sided.
Dear Tori,
I know you’re probably pissed at me about this letter. You never liked having to wait for things, which is why I asked Aubrey to hold onto this for one year. I think the perspective will be good for you, and I hope you’ll agree.
I’m sorry I left you like I did. I know you were upset, probably for a long time, and I can’t tell you how much I agonized over that. It was especially hard because we’ve grown particularly close the last several weeks, haven’t we? (I forget you’ll be reading this in a year, but for me, this is recent history.) I’m so glad you told me about Sean—it’s a secret I’m taking with me to the grave. And the secret isn’t him, it’s your capacity for love and tenderness. You’d have us all believe you’re a driven career woman who’s going to take over the world. I’m sure you will, but it’s not the sum of your parts. Sean brings something out in you. I have no idea if he’s The One, but I hope so.
That answered the question about when he’d written it—before he’d learned about her marriage.
I’ve never seen you so carefree and happy. One of my deepest regrets is that I won’t get to see how it turns out. I suppose things have changed a lot in the past year. Maybe Sean is out of the picture. Maybe you’ve moved back to Ribbon Ridge. Hell, maybe you married someone else and have a kid on the way. I love that there are so many ways your story can be told, and I hope you realize that, too. Planning for the life you want doesn’t mean the life you need won’t come up and bite you in the ass. I hope and pray it does.
Thank you for your amazing heart and always treating me like I was just a regular brother, instead of a mess. I know you’ve made something beautiful and lasting with the property, something that would make me so proud. But I’m proud of you anyway. You’re going to go to the moon, Tori, and I hope you won’t do it alone.
All my love,
Alex
The tears had started again, but these were tinged with joy as well as sadness. “Here, you can read it, if you want.” She handed Evan the letter.
He quickly scanned through it, as his reading speed was somewhere between sound and light.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“You were expecting something about the phone call.”
“Weren’t you?”
She nodded. “Maybe not expecting, but hoping.”
“And yet you don’t seem upset. Unless I’m not reading you right either at the moment.”
“You’re reading me fine.” She smiled. “I’m okay with it. I think I started to accept that I wasn’t ever going to get the closure I wanted when I started opening back up to Sean. Closure isn’t something you get. And I don’t want it. I don’t want to close the door on Alex. He’s always going to be here.” She pointed to her head. “And here.” She put her hand over her heart.
“True.”
“Where is Sean?” Evan asked.
She closed her eyes briefly and pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh God.” She looked up at Evan, no longer bothering to mask the emotion she felt. “He’s gone. I have to go find him.”
Chapter Twenty-One
England
SEAN CLOSED HIS eyes and inhaled the crisp late-afternoon air. Nothing beat autumn in the Cotswolds. “Sean, do you want another cup of tea, dear?”
“No thanks, Mum.” He opened his eyes and watched her come toward him with a fresh pot.
“I don’t mind if I do,” she said, smiling as she poured into her cup.
He rarely drank tea, but when he was at home, he indulged his mother. “On second thought, why not?” He moved his cup closer so she could pour.
“That’s my boy.” She set the pot down and poured cream into both of their cups. Sean preferred his coffee unadulterated, but tea was better with cream and the occasional spoon of sugar. “Your father’s just run down to the store to get some potatoes. I’m doing a roast for dinner.”
“Are you making Yorkshire pudding?”
“Of course, you ninny.” Mum chuckled at him as she sipped her tea. “Have you decided yet how long you’re going to stay?”
Sean had flown directly here from Portland. Well, not directly. He’d had to f
ly through Seattle and Chicago first, finally arriving beleaguered and more than ready to sleep for a week. He’d slept for only a day, though, give or take. And he’d spent the last two days enjoying his parents’ company, helping his mother in her garden, and playing darts with his dad down at the pub. For the first time in years, he wasn’t planning what he was going to do next, obsessing over work, or thinking about much of anything really.
He wished he had a few more items of clothing and essentials from home, but he was making do. He’d called one of his neighbors and asked them to keep an eye on his apartment. Then he’d contacted the leasing agent and said he wasn’t signing for another year. That was the only thing of actual value he’d done.
“No, I haven’t decided how long,” he said, finally answering Mum’s question. “At least until Dad’s surgery.” He was due to go under the knife to get his new hip next week. Sean figured he’d stay at least a few days after that. Though it was a routine procedure, he knew Mum appreciated having him home.
“Well, I’m sorry for the things that prompted you to come, but I’m not sorry you’re here. I’ve got your favorite biscuits in the oven.”
Mum was doing her level best to ensure he fit into absolutely none of his clothes when he returned home. At least he still had a bike here, and he’d taken a spectacular ride that morning. There was nothing better than a jaunt through the English countryside with a soft drizzle giving everything a glimmering sheen.
Oh, who was he kidding, he was miserable. He was trying to find pleasure in everything—no, in anything—but he couldn’t stop thinking of Tori. She’d called him several times right after he’d left, but he’d ignored the calls. She’d also texted him a few times, asking him to call her. He’d ignored those, too. Then she’d just stopped. He might’ve expected her indifference, but he certainly had hoped for the opposite.
Really? He’d expected her to be indifferent? Yes, she’d put him off for months, but she’d been grief-stricken and apparently hamstrung by her emotions. The days they’d spent on the mountain had been brilliant, and he’d really thought they’d turned a corner. They loved each other. It seemed a given that things would work out.
But nothing in life was free. Not that Sean hadn’t been willing to work for it, but he’d grown tired of being the driving force. It took two to make a marriage work.
“Can you believe some of my roses are still blooming?” Mum asked, drawing his attention away from Tori and earning his eternal gratitude in the process.
“It’s been a fairly warm autumn, hasn’t it?”
Mum nodded as she sipped her tea. “The leaves were a good week or so behind in their turning. I compared it to my journal for the last five years.” She tapped his arm and smiled. “I’m so glad you bought me that computer a few years ago. It makes tracking the plantings and the weather so easy!”
Mum had kept a handwritten garden journal for as long as Sean could remember. She was ridiculously fond of charting growing patterns and noting special events from year to year. He’d bought her a computer and paid for her to take lessons so that she could crunch her garden numbers to her heart’s content. “And I’m glad you enjoy it.”
“I’d better go check on the biscuits.” She patted his hand and went back inside.
Sean’s phone vibrated on the table, but he resisted the urge to look at the text. It was either his neighbor or Mike, who’d cleaned out his office and was storing all of Sean’s things in his garage for the time being. He’d checked in every day and assured Sean that Dale couldn’t ruin him, at least not entirely. And yeah, that had made him feel better.
He closed his eyes again and shut his mind off, leaning his head back against the chair cushion. He listened to the birds, the breeze, the distant sound of a car on the road. He heard the slide of the back door as Mum came back outside, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“Sean?”
He lifted his head and snapped his eyes open. “Tori. What the bloody hell?” He looked past her, but she was alone. Mum had to have let her in and brought her to the backyard. Alone.
She wore a short raincoat that was belted at her waist and a pair of slim black pants tucked into tall riding boots. A charcoal knit cap was pulled over her sleek hair. She looked like she was going to a Hollywood power luncheon. If that luncheon was set in rainy England.
“Hi.” She sounded nervous. She looked nervous, too. She was pale, her mouth set in a tight line.
He straightened in his chair, tension tightening his frame. “How’d you find me here?”
“It’s a bit of a story, actually. Do you mind if I sit?” She indicated the chair his mother had vacated.
“Mum’s sitting there.”
“Oh.” She nodded. He was being an ass, but if she’d come to apologize, well, maybe she ought to work for it. “I flew to LA the night you left. Only you weren’t there.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“I flew back to Ribbon Ridge the next morning. But your neighbor was kind enough to call me after you let him know that you were visiting your parents. I’d asked him not to tell you that I was there. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Mission accomplished. I was sure you’d be glad to be rid of me.” He took a drink of his tea, wishing like hell it was something stronger.
“Maybe once, but not now.” She shook her head. “No, never. I pushed you away because it was easier. Being with you reminded me so painfully of Alex’s death and of that stupid phone call that I didn’t answer.”
“Because you were with me.” He didn’t want to hold anything back anymore. He wanted everything out, even if it hurt. “You blamed me, didn’t you?”
She nodded gently. “I think so. I’m sorry, Sean. About everything. I was such a fool. I should have trusted you about the show. I know how badly Dale was manipulating you.”
What did she know? “You do?”
She came around and sat in his mother’s chair anyway. And he didn’t care. “I know you needed that job, the paycheck really, in order to support your parents. I am such a self-absorbed—what do you Brits say?—git. You needed your job in a way that I don’t. I loved my job, worked my ass off to succeed, but not for the money. I’m lucky enough to have a safety net most people only dream about. Can you forgive my absolute ignorance?”
He’d heard everything she said, but one thing stood out. “You said you loved your job—past tense. You don’t anymore?”
“I love architecture, but I don’t love working for the firm anymore. I tendered my resignation before I flew here.” She smiled softly, and she looked unbearably beautiful. “You’re looking at the new owner of the Archer-Hennessy Design Studio.”
She pulled off her gloves—he hadn’t even registered that she’d been wearing any—and there, sparkling on her left hand, was her engagement ring that had never actually been an engagement ring and the band he’d bought for her in Las Vegas.
He coughed, having to dislodge the small lump that had formed in his throat. “Archer-Hennessy?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to hyphenate my name. Isn’t that kind of a British thing anyway?”
“Yes, it is.” He shook his head in an effort to follow along. His brain, having spent the last few days happily atrophying, was now overwhelmed. “So you somehow figured out that I support my folks.” He couldn’t imagine how that had happened.
“I put two and two together. Your mom said a few things on the phone when we spoke up at the mountain.”
Aha. “Yet, you didn’t say anything to me.”
She shrugged. “You’d never brought it up, and I didn’t want to pry. But I’m here to tell you I’m going to pry. A lot. I want to know everything about you and your family. I don’t care how meaningless you think it is, I want you to tell me. And I want to tell you the same.” She shook her head. “God, I have so much to tell you. So many things I want you to know.”
He was absolutely mesmerized by the pink in her cheeks and the lift in her voice. She was the Tori he’d met
, the Tori he would love for the rest of his life.
“Like what?” he asked, sitting forward.
She sat forward too so that they were just a couple of feet apart. “Like I have never smoked a day in my life, save the one cigarette I tried in high school because I was playing Truth or Dare.”
“Whereas I started smoking in high school.”
Her eyes widened briefly. “You weren’t kidding—you really did smoke?”
He nodded. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t know me then?”
“No. I wish I had. I want to feel as if I’ve known you forever, because that’s the amount of time I plan to spend with you.” She glanced at the ground before looking him in the eye. “If you’ll have me.”
She was killing him. Pulling out his heart and trampling it into little pieces. Again. “Tori, I don’t know if I can do this. I got my hopes up before—”
She slid down from her chair and kneeled before him on the patio. “I’m only asking for this one chance, and I promise I’ll prove to you that this can work—that we can work. I’m ready to do whatever it takes. I’ll even move here if that’s what you want.”
She moved closer and put her hands on his knees. “And remember, I’m just a girl . . . kneeling in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”
He laughed. “You’re quoting Notting Hill.”
“Why not, it’s apropos, don’t you think? Hold on a second.” She stood up and rushed back to the house. When she came out, she was carrying a stick—no, a pool cue.
He stood as she neared. “What’s that?”
“Well, it’s not an expensive painting like the movie, but it means a little bit more, I think.”
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, looking for the graffiti he’d left on the offensive piece of wood.
“I don’t know. If you think it’s Alex’s cue, you’d be right. I—everyone, actually—wanted you to have it.”
He looked from the cue to her wide blue-green gaze. “Everyone?”