by Nina Lane
“He’s here. Omigod, I’m so nervous.” Allie darts through the kitchen doors, looking a little frazzled. “He’s with Kelsey and Archer in the Castle Room. Wow, that cake looks beautiful.”
“Not bad, huh?”
Pleased, I step back to look at the round cake decorated with smooth, blue fondant and embellished with curlicues of white icing shaped like tornados. The meditative act of decorating the cake, not to mention the combined excitement and worry over Kelsey and Archer’s meeting with the Storm Hunters producer, is a welcome contrast to the shock of my diagnosis. I need to be at the café right now, not only as part of my routine but for my emotional well-being.
Allie and I arrange the cake on a tray along with a carafe of fresh coffee and go up to the Castle Room, which we’ve closed for a “private” event. It’s a big deal that David Peterson flew in from LA just to meet with Archer and Kelsey about the show. The question is what he wants to talk about.
The three of them are sitting at a table by the window, and Allie and I pour coffee and slice the cake. I glance at Kelsey, who looks cool and collected in a navy suit that matches the blue streak in her hair. She gives me a smile of reassurance.
Allie puts pots of cream and sugar on the table before she and I retreat to the wait station.
“Should we leave?” she asks.
“Probably.”
Neither of us moves toward the stairs.
“Do you think he’s going to fire her?” Allie whispers, pretending to rearrange the clean glasses.
“I don’t know.”
I’m worried, though. The Cruella de Vil thing is snowballing on the heels of all the Archer fangirling, and I can’t help thinking the Storm Hunters producers won’t want to continue the series with a villainous woman in the leading role, even if she is one of the most preeminent scientists and tornado experts in the world.
On the other hand, Kelsey is nothing if not a self-sufficient woman who gets shit done, so even if she does get fired, she’ll find a way to turn it around to her advantage.
Allie and I edge a little closer to the table so we can eavesdrop… er, I mean accidentally overhear.
“As you know, we are very excited about what’s happening with Archer here.” David reaches over to squeeze Archer’s arm. “Very excited. We really believe he’s the key to giving the show a new life. And, Kelsey, in light of the recent negativity over your role in the animal rescue—”
Here it comes, I think as my heart begins a slow descent.
“—we’d like you to consider a new storyline,” David continues.
Kelsey blinks. “What kind of storyline?”
“A storyline involving you and Archer,” David explains. “You’ve kept your relationship pretty quiet, but it’s time for us to play it up, give it more air time, emphasize it. The premise is fantastic—a hot guy who rescues animals and fixes things, and a sexy, brilliant scientist with a fiery temper and a serious case of bitchiness.”
“Hey.” Anger flashes in Archer’s expression, and he starts to push his chair back. “Watch what you—”
“Archer,” Kelsey puts her hand on his arm, her tone mild, “it’s not untrue.”
“Well.” He sits back down, still looking annoyed. “The sexy, brilliant part isn’t.”
“Look, these are just archetypes, you know?” David holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Characters you play. We’d do a whole flirty thing between you two, stage some fights and making up, play with the whole ‘will they or won’t they’ question, and then end the season with…”
He draws his voice out, as if trying to heighten the anticipation.
“End the season with what?” Kelsey asks.
“A live, on-camera wedding for the finale!” David says, spreading his arms out in a grand gesture.
Allie gasps. Kelsey and Archer stare at David.
“What?” Kelsey finally says.
“I’m telling you, ratings will go through the roof,” David continues, shaking his head when Kelsey starts to speak again. “I know, I know. You don’t want to get married on TV. But wait until you read the contract and our offer. I’m sure you’ll be very happy to consider it at least.”
He reaches into his messenger bag for a sheaf of papers.
“David,” Kelsey says firmly, “we’re not getting married live on camera. We’re not getting married at all.”
Archer frowns at her. David blinks.
“What’d you mean, you’re not getting married at all?” His eyes widen. “You’re not breaking up, are you? God in heaven, tell me you’re not breaking up. Please don’t be break—”
“We’re not breaking up,” Archer interrupts. “We’re just not getting married on camera.”
He looks at Kelsey again as he emphasizes the words “on camera.”
“Well, when are you getting married then?” David asks. “Because we can work around it, you know. I mean, we can stage the on-camera wedding, if you’re worried about privacy, but—”
“David.” Kelsey slams her hand down on the table. “We’re not getting married.”
David sits back and stares at her. “What, like, ever?”
A strange silence settles over the table. Allie clutches my arm.
“Marriage just isn’t our thing,” Kelsey explains, gesturing between her and Archer.
“You mean it’s not your thing.” Archer is starting to look somewhat irritated again.
“I mean that we’re happy the way things are,” Kelsey says. “We’re not getting married. Especially not for a season finale.”
David is silent, tapping his fingers on the table.
“Kelsey,” he says, “considering the negative publicity about you at the moment, we need a change. We need to show you sparring with Archer but unable to resist the sexual tension, fighting with everyone else… and then finally, surrendering to the hero.”
“Surrendering, huh?” Archer asks.
For some reason, he gives Kelsey a look that is simmering with suppressed heat.
“No,” Kelsey says, not returning Archer’s gaze.
“He’s the new star of the show,” David informs her. “And the only way the viewers will stop slinging shit at you is if they know Archer, hunky dog-rescuing hero, fully accepts and loves you. Because if he loves you, the viewers will too. In other words, that man is your goddamned redemption.”
“I don’t need redemption,” Kelsey replies tartly. “Besides, I suck at the romance stuff. In five seasons of Storm Hunters, have you ever seen me get the slightest bit mushy with Archer? No, you have not. Because I don’t do romance.”
“That’s part of my point,” David says. “You need to get his groupies back in your corner. And to do that, you have to soften up, let Archer take the reins, show your girly side.”
“I don’t have a girly side.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up and get one,” David says. “Because you need to let Archer tame you.”
Allie and I wince. Kelsey’s blue eyes fire sparks at David.
“Tame me?” she replies icily. “No one is fucking taming me.”
“I’m just saying you need to—”
“No.”
David looks at Archer with exasperation. “How do you put up with her and all her damned nos?”
“She doesn’t always say no.” Archer glances at Kelsey, the heat still gleaming in his eyes before he returns his attention to David. “So how about this? We do a story where I keep asking her to marry me, and she keeps saying no.”
David lifts his eyebrows. “I like it. But how does that story end? Does she finally say yes?”
“Ask her.” Archer tilts his head toward Kelsey, who gives him a “stop it” glare.
“Look,” she says, “there will be no proposals and no romance. There will certainly not be a live wedding. I’m a scienti
st, for God’s sake. The show is about the science of tornados. There is nothing scientific about romance.”
“Exactly,” David says. “That’s why viewers will love it.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“And I’m not accepting your answer.” David taps the contract with his forefinger. “At least, not until you look this over. You might very well discover you have a whole crapload of girl in you once you see the terms we’re offering. If not, we’ll have to get something else going for our boy here. I’m thinking Motorcycles and More, starring Archer West.”
He gets to his feet, nodding goodbyes to both them and us before he leaves the room.
Archer and Kelsey look at each other. The air between them almost crackles with challenge.
“No science in romance, huh?” Archer asks. “What about magic?”
“There’s no such thing as magic.”
“Then what’s this?” Archer gestures between them.
“You know what I mean.”
“I know the thought of losing your edge pisses you off,” Archer says, leaning closer and looking right into her eyes. “So you’re going all hardcore scientist instead of playing by the rules. But I know you’re a helluva lot more woman than you are anything else.”
Kelsey narrows her eyes, even as her skin pinkens a little. “You want to do it, don’t you? The Storm Hunters romance and wedding. This whole fame thing has gone completely to your head.”
“The only thing that’s ever gone to my head,” Archer says, pushing his chair back with a scrape, “is you, storm girl.”
He winks at her and tosses a few bills onto the table before heading downstairs.
Silence falls over the Castle Room. Allie and I exchange worried looks.
“Did you two get all that?” Kelsey asks dryly.
She turns toward us. Allie quickly starts wiping down the pristine tables, and I quickly start straightening the perfectly aligned chairs.
“What?” I ask Kelsey innocently. “I only heard something about you needing to get your chick on.”
Allie approaches the table and picks up Kelsey’s uneaten piece of cake.
“Were you serious when you said you and Archer would never get married?” she asks, digging a fork into the cake. “If so, why the heck not?”
“Because it’s so good the way it is,” Kelsey replies. “Why change anything? Archer and I choose to stay together. If we got married, we’d have to, right? And I don’t like anyone or anything telling me what I have to do. Certainly not the Storm Hunters producers.”
“So what if Archer gets tired of waiting for you?” Allie asks around a mouthful of cake. “Wow, Liv, this is really good.”
“He’s not waiting for me,” Kelsey says. “We’re already together, and we both know this is how it’s going to stay forever.”
“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” Allie remarks. “I mean, with all this business about science and magic, it sounds like he’s ready to bring on the marriage challenge again. And you know I love you, Kelsey, but lord in heaven, if you keep turning him down, those fangirls are going to be all over him like ants on a sugar bowl.”
She heads for the stairs, still polishing off the last of the cake. I go to Kelsey’s table and start loading the plates onto a tray.
I have a sudden image of Dean from years ago as he and I stood at the counter in an antique store—his sudden nervous expression, the way his hand shook as he extended his credit card to pay for the cameo ring I’d been admiring, his stammered, “An engagement ring. I mean, if we… I… want to… you know. Get married.”
Marriage to Dean West. I didn’t think my heart could contain the riotous flood of love and happiness that followed his endearingly shaky proposal. There was no doubt in my mind, no question, no hesitation.
Okay, so there was a bit of confusion before I was sure he was actually asking me to marry him, but then he was hauling me into his arms and kissing me with such hot possession that everything else faded under the bright, glowing yes, yes, yes.
A cup clatters against the saucer as I put it on the tray. My hands are trembling. Kelsey stands, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Hey, you okay?” she asks.
“I’m fine.” I turn away to carry the tray to the wait station. “Are we still on for Friday night?”
“Sure.” Kelsey seems to hesitate for a second before she picks up her purse. “Thanks for everything, Liv.”
“No problem.” I put the dishes into the bin. “Let me know how it turns out.”
Her heels click on the stairs as she leaves. I watch through the window as she crosses the street to where Archer is sitting on his bike, holding his helmet and clearly waiting for her.
Kelsey stops in front of him, putting her hands on her hips as she says something to him. He grins, reaching out to cup his palm around the back of her neck. He pulls her toward him for a quick, hot kiss that has Kelsey curling her fingers into the sleeves of his leather jacket.
When they part, I can almost see the heat shimmering between them. Archer runs his hand over Kelsey’s hair before she steps onto the sidewalk. He starts his bike and pushes away from the curb, heading off down the street.
I turn away from the window, hoping with everything in me they’ll get married one day. Whether science, magic, or some combination of both, what Kelsey and Archer have is too rare and precious not to secure with vows.
An ache of longing winds through my heart.
“Dean, I love you… And I would love to be your wife.”
As I flew, spinning, into his kiss, I knew everything in my life had been leading up to that moment when Dean West and I promised each other a sweet, hot forever.
CHAPTER TWELVE
OLIVIA
December 5
“A NANNY?” I STARE AT DEAN across the table. “I don’t want the kids to have a nanny.”
He twists a loop of string around his fingers, his expression grave.
“Neither do I,” he admits. “But with midterms coming up, I can’t cancel classes or ask my grad students to substitute too often. I’m not going to miss your doctors’ appointments either. The university has a policy for faculty absences if family members are ill, but I need to apply in advance. And I’m going to want to take as much time off as possible the next few months.”
My stomach hurts. I haven’t yet thought about how this will affect Dean’s work. I don’t want to think about that.
“We can just make the appointments around the kids’ schedules,” I suggest.
“We already know how difficult it is to schedule doctors’ appointments, so we can’t expect to be able to do that,” he says. “A nanny makes sense.”
I stare down at my cup of tea. After Nicholas was born, my good friend Marianne had been an invaluable help to us before she moved out of town. And when Dean and I lived in Paris, we had an au pair for Nicholas and Bella. Marie-Laure was a lovely young woman who fit easily into our family, stayed with us when Dean had to travel, and helped me in ways I will never be able to measure.
Both Marianne and Marie-Laure had been our friends and nannies through a choice that Dean and I made. I appreciated the help, and Dean felt better about traveling because he knew someone was with the children and me.
But this? Now we might need a nanny because I’m facing surgery and treatments that could make it difficult for me to do anything.
“Mommy, look!” Bella spreads her arms out and tiptoes along a line of grout on the tile floor. “I’m a typerope walker.”
I smile weakly and give her a hollow, “Great, honey,” response. Already and even with Dean’s help, it feels like it takes more effort than usual to get the kids ready for school. The rational part of me knows a nanny would be helpful.
Tears push at my eyes. I blink them back, telling myself I’m being silly. For heaven�
��s sake, I should be grateful we can afford a nanny. And I am. I just wish we didn’t need one.
“All right.” I swallow my pride, the taste bitter and cold going down my throat. “A lot of experienced nannies post their information on the bulletin boards at the café. I’ll get some names.”
“I’ll check with the university childcare department too,” Dean says.
“Shouldn’t we tell people before we hire a nanny?” I ask. “I mean, we’ll have to tell her what’s going on. And we have to tell Nicholas and Bella.”
“We will.” The string snaps out of Dean’s fingers. “After we decide on a doctor and have a plan in place.”
My jaw tightens with the effort of biting back a petty, unnecessary comment that I’m the one who has to choose the doctor, and the doctor is the one who will come up with a plan. Because I know—better than anyone, better even than Dean himself—that this action-driven approach is my husband’s way of coping.
I have to let him do what he needs to do. And I have to keep our lives peaceful and calm, both for our sake and that of our children. We will not live in a place where anger and fear can fester. Dean and I fought too hard for each other, for our children, for our life together. Nothing will change what we have.
Not even this.
“I can’t wait to see what Archer has up his sleeve.” I finish watering the peace lily and check the other potted plants Florence Wickham has around her house. “Whatever it is, it’s throwing Kelsey completely off her game.”
When Dean doesn’t respond, I glance at him. He’s standing by the door waiting for me, his attention fixed on his phone.
“Dean?”
He looks up. “What?”
“You weren’t listening to anything I was just saying.”
“Sorry.” He scratches his head and turns his attention back to his phone. “I got an email from a doctor at the Mayo Clinic about drug trials. Looks like there are a number of them starting early next year.”