But this one wouldn’t. It wasn’t a traditional marriage. It was a business deal being signed in family court.
She’d just have to make certain that Susan had all the facts.
“Having second thoughts?” Spencer’s words brought her back to the cabin in the desert. She saw him watching her, a strange expression on his face, kind of warm and...affectionate?
“Absolutely not,” she told him. “So, when can I expect an answer from you?”
“Right now,” he told her, his gaze piercing. “I agree to your plan, Natasha. I have some questions, some stipulations, but overall, I agree to your plan.”
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t hear anything but thickness in her ears. Like she was standing in the midst of a rushing wind.
Sucking in air just in time before she had to sit down, she forced a smile.
“I’m sure we’ll both have questions,” she managed. “Let’s each make a list, and we can discuss them at our next meeting.”
“Meeting? We’re going to have meetings?”
“Regularly.” That was a given. “This has to succeed, Spencer. Which means we have to stay on top of it.”
He was grinning again. She didn’t like what that did to her.
“When is our next meeting?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned. “I’m not going to do all the work here, Spencer. You can be in charge of meeting times... No, wait, I guess it makes sense that I do that, considering that I’m the one who’ll be coming and going so much.”
“I’ll need a couple of days’ notice, when possible.”
“For the meetings? Or my coming and going?”
“If this is going to be your home, Natasha, you’re welcome anytime. I was speaking of meetings. However, now that you mention it, I would like to be kept apprised of your schedule.”
No one but Angela had access to that. Because she didn’t report to anyone. Yet...his request made sense. “Okay,” she said. And added, “And I’ll need yours and the kids’.”
“Fine.”
They talked about sharing an online calendar. Spencer said he’d set it up.
She agreed.
And they both went to work. On separate parts of the ranch.
All things considered, Natasha was proud of herself. She’d had a very productive morning.
* * *
HE HAD HIS LIST. And wasn’t completely hating all aspects of Natasha’s plan. In some ways, it worked out quite well. They’d have their separate lives—it was clear that couldn’t change for either one of them.
There’d be no messiness like there’d been with Kaylee. No recriminations or threats or defensiveness if, at some time in the future, either one of them wanted out of their arrangement.
And in the meantime...it was like he’d won the lottery. His kids would have a female influence in their lives—and he’d have his family unit, too. Claire Williamson would no longer have a leg to stand on in a custody battle when he was married. Every potential argument she’d raised had stemmed from him being a single father with a start-up cattle business and limited resources, while she could offer Tabitha the world—and a grandmother’s womanly influences.
Under Natasha’s plan, his business was going to soar. And yet...he gave up none of his autonomy. He was taking on a silent partner where the ranch was concerned.
Yes, the more he thought about the plan, the more he liked it. So much so that he stopped by the studio to tell her that afternoon.
She was in a meeting.
He told Angela not to disturb her.
And was glad to know that nothing had changed between them.
* * *
NATASHA WORKED TOO late to have dinner with the kids. Or to tell them good-night. It was going to happen. A lot. She knew that. And knew she was entitled to work late when needed.
Still, she was feeling a bit...deflated...as she drove slowly past the main house and down to her cabin. But figured the majority of her unease came from the phone call she had to make to her mother.
It was almost eleven in New York. Susan would still be up. And Natasha, like her mother, was one to face difficult deeds head-on, to get them done, rather than stew about them.
Forgoing dinner, she made herself a piece of toast with peanut butter. Poured a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade—a gift from Betsy—and sat down at her kitchen table with a notepad and pen.
Susan would have suggestions. Probably geared toward showing Natasha that she could be making the biggest mistake of her life.
She wasn’t going to change her mind. But she didn’t like being at odds with her mother. When you were different, as they were, sometimes each other was all you had...
“You’re what? Did you say you’re getting married? To the rancher?”
Natasha had expected the incredulity. Holding the phone away from her ear, she frowned. She hadn’t expected the excitement that was raising her mother’s voice a couple of octaves.
“Yes. Well...we’re not officially getting engaged until the Thanksgiving live show, but yes, we will be married in January. Here on the ranch. So you’ll need to clear your calendar...” She talked about dates.
“I can’t believe it! Oh, Natasha, I’m just so...happy for you.”
What? Well, then, “I’m just so happy you’re happy,” she said and proceeded to give her mother the entire rundown of her business proposition. The wins for everyone in so many ways.
Highlighting what was, for her, one of the biggest wins of all, aside from Family Secrets.
“I’m going to have a family, Mom, but keep my autonomy,” she said. If the arrangement worked as projected, she wouldn’t be alone in her old age. A retirement plan like none other.
When she’d shared all of the details, she fell silent and took a bite of cold toast. The peanut butter was still good.
The lemonade chaser was nice, too. Not too tart. Not too sweet. She’d have added a touch more water to soften the sharpness of the lemon...
“Mom? You still there?”
“I’m here.”
Uh-oh.
“I thought you were pleased I was getting married.” Her stomach sank as she waited for the conversation she’d been dreading.
“You don’t love him.”
“Of course not.”
“Marriage is for love, Natasha. Not for business.”
“But...”
“It’s a sacred bind.”
“It’s a legal contract,” Natasha countered.
“Because we as a society define it as such, but that’s not what the personal, lifetime partnership between two people is all about.”
“You love Stan but you won’t marry him.” She sounded like a petulant kid. Even to her own ears. And hated that her mother still had the ability to bring that out of her.
“I won’t marry him because I don’t love him.”
Shocked, Natasha leaned both elbows on the table and stared at the veneer top, as though within the faux wood grain she’d find something that would take away the sting of emotions trying to get the better of her.
“You...”
“I’m extremely fond of Stan.” Susan’s voice broke. “I miss him. But I don’t love him.”
“You should call him.”
“No. That would be selfish and unfair. I won’t marry a man I don’t love. It’s not right.”
For the first time in her life, Natasha openly disagreed with her mother. Vehemently.
“I’m going to marry Spencer, Mom. It’s the right thing for both of us.” She’d considered everyone involved. Saw no losses.
Not even small ones.
It was the most perfect business deal she’d ever come across. Or even heard of.
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“But you understand that I have to do what’s right for me.”
“Yes.”
She’d never heard her mother sound so sad. “You should call Stan,” Natasha tried again.
“I don’t love him.”
The denial bothered her. Maybe that was why she couldn’t let it go. “How can you possibly know that? You probably do love him. You’re just refusing to see that...”
She’d overstepped. She knew it the second the words left her mouth. Holding her breath, she waited. Would it make matters worse to apologize? Or did she show more respect by waiting humbly for Susan’s verbal dressing-down?
“I know because I have been in love.” Susan’s words were the last thing Natasha had expected.
“You have?”
“Yes.”
She had to... “When? With whom?”
“With your father.”
“But...”
“He left me pregnant and alone. Because he didn’t love me.”
Whoa.
The world had tilted. Alarmingly. Her view of her mother...their relationship...everything she’d known it to be was disintegrating right before her eyes. Her mother, a victim of unrequited love?
“Have you ever tried to get in touch with him again?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After you were born. The day you graduated from preschool. And high school. And college...”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. He never responded.”
He didn’t want them. Didn’t want the woman who’d spent her whole life loving him...
“I love you, Mom.”
“I know you do. And I love you, too, Tasha.”
She hadn’t heard that name in...years.
“I’m going to be fine.” She felt like the parent all of a sudden.
“Not if you marry this man, you won’t.”
So some things about Susan hadn’t changed. And probably never would.
“Why do you say that? You’re happy. And you’ve lived your whole life without a partner relationship built on love.” It was something she was just now beginning to see—the fact that Susan really was happy. She’d made her own happiness. With everything she had.
“You aren’t me, Natasha. You’re a nurturer. I am not.”
“That’s not true. You’re a great mom. And you and I, I’ve always known we’re exactly alike. I’m proud to be like you.”
“No, we’re not.”
The words cut her to the quick. Pushing away her half-eaten toast, she got up from the table. And had nowhere to hide. “Of course we are,” she finally said. Arguing again, because she had no other choice.
“No, Natasha. I spend my day judging people. You spend yours helping make people’s dreams come true...”
Her news had shocked her mother, as she’d known it would. Disappointed her. As she’d known it would. Susan was handling it badly, was all. She’d come around. Especially after she met Tabitha and Justin.
She hoped. Though Susan didn’t have a lot of cause to be around children, and had never seemed particularly enamored by them—especially in restaurants—she’d loved Natasha. Been a good mother to her.
Getting her mother to at least agree to mark herself off her judge calendar for the time in January she’d need to be in Palm Desert for the wedding, she rang off.
Her mother’s goodbye had been the same as always. Same exact words. Almost as if things were back to normal.
Natasha had a feeling life wasn’t ever going to return to the way it had always been.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SPENCER WAS ALREADY in bed Wednesday night, almost asleep, when his phone signaled a text message.
Meet tomorrow at eight?
It was almost midnight.
The kids would be on the bus at seven fifty-five.
Your office, he typed back, keeping things businesslike. He had a nice office, too, but it was in his home. He wasn’t ready to have their meetings there.
Not until this project, as she’d called it, was firmly in place.
Though he was worn out, he sat up. Grabbed his tablet off the bedside table and added a couple of items to the list that had been growing since he’d left her that morning. Then he checked hay and beef prices. Read some news. He did everything he could to keep his mind occupied so that he didn’t think about the woman who was going to be a part of the rest of his life.
* * *
WITH HER SEATED on one side of the table serving as a temporary desk in his barn and soon-to-be full-time studio, and him on the other, they discussed everything on his list. And hers.
They were going to continue on as friends in front of the kids, letting them get used to having Natasha around more, having dinner with them whenever she was at the ranch and free, spending Saturday evenings with them after the remaining three shows. They’d wait until right before Thanksgiving to tell them they were getting married.
She’d continue to stay at the cabin until they were married, at which time she’d move to a spare bedroom in the house when she was on the ranch. For the first six months.
After the Family Secrets segments at the ranch were over, he and the kids would spend at least one night a week in Palm Desert—or as often as he could work it out that he could be gone overnight.
They would wait until the first of November and then, before the engagement was announced, each see their own lawyers regarding the prenuptial agreement so that all was in place before they went public.
They would hold hands where appropriate. And kiss occasionally.
He would keep her apprised of any major business decisions he made. She would do the same. The small things they didn’t need to bother sharing.
She would pick out and purchase her own engagement ring.
He had it all down. Even managed to fall into a somewhat comfortable routine over the next weeks as the plan fell easily into action. Other than the “family”-style dinners and the offstage hand holding, everything was pretty much as it had been.
With one major difference—he felt secure for the first time in a long time.
He called Claire. Invited her to stay at the ranch with him and the kids the last weekend in October and wasn’t the least bit surprised when she opted to stay in Palm Desert and drive out. What did surprise him was that she actually showed.
And that the visit went...well. It was low-key. They’d agreed not to tell the kids yet who she was, just said she was a friend, but she seemed genuinely interested in every aspect of their lives. And while every other sentence seemed to be filled with innuendo, promises to Tabitha that she’d take her to see Washington, DC, and that she’d love it there, the woman hadn’t crossed a line that would have allowed him to end the visit.
Or prevent future visits.
He told Natasha so when she called from New Orleans an hour after Claire had left.
“She doesn’t know about us yet,” Natasha reminded him. “Next visit, I’ll make sure I’m home...”
His gut clenched at the surge of emotions rocking through him.
Home.
She’d be home. He knew what she meant. And still, the word uprooted his world.
But more important was the sense of...something warm and fuzzy and therefore god-awful that came with knowing she had his back. That a woman as powerful, as sure of herself, as confident and contained as Natasha Stevens was on his team.
The realization was sickening.
So he went and took a shower.
* * *
BY THE FIRST Monday in November, Natasha was at her wits’ end. She hadn’t been sleeping. Her appetite was half of what it had been. She’d been to see her doctor. Had a full barrage of tests. She was in perfect he
alth. The Longfellow Ranch Family Secrets segment had wrapped up with the highest ratings ever. Sponsors were flooding in. Plans were in full swing for the live Thanksgiving Day show, featuring dishes made by Natasha from mailed-in “family secret” recipes. The judges would choose their favorite dish. The submitter of that recipe would be one of the eight contestants on the January segment of Family Secrets.
Because of the wedding, they were filming the first segment of the year on site. The other three would be traveling—one to Longfellow Ranch.
And she was losing weight.
Late that night, she gave in and did what she’d always done... She called her mother.
“You know the problem, Natasha,” her mother said without even asking about her physical symptoms. “It’s this wedding.”
It wasn’t.
“You’ve been this way your whole life. Some people get nosebleeds when they lie. You can’t sleep and you lose weight when you know you’re doing something that goes against your instinctive sense of right. You’re making a decision that isn’t good for you.”
She wanted her mother to be wrong.
But some part of her acknowledged, because she was at such a low point, that she’d called because she’d known what her mother would say.
Because she knew she was right.
“It’s the perfect solution,” she said, sitting out in the darkness of her walled-in garden, thinking about turning on the jets in the hot tub.
The kids had been there the previous weekend. It had been too cold for them to swim, but they’d loved being able to “take a bath outside.”
She couldn’t ever remember a better night spent in her own home.
“If it were the perfect solution, you’d be embracing it, rather than making yourself sick with forcing it.”
She knew that, too.
“So, what do I do?”
“Uh-uh,” Susan said. “I can’t tell you that. Only you can figure out what’s at war within you, Tasha.”
Then why could her mother tell her the marriage was wrong? If she couldn’t give her the solution?
Now, in addition to feeling sick, she was adding peevish to her growing list of discomforts.
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