CHAPTER TWO
They dropped the marriage act before they got to the theater, which was fine by Kate. But they didn’t drop the “date” act, which was also fine by her, especially once the play had ended.
“Here, try this.” Jonah held out a spring roll filled with shrimp and fresh cilantro, and for an instant, Kate wasn’t sure whether to take it from him or bite it out of his hand.
She decided to err on the side of caution.
“Thanks.” She plucked it from his fingers and took the politest bite she could manage. “Mmm, you’re right. The peanut sauce is delicious.”
They’d both been hungry after the show, and found their way to a quaint little Thai restaurant near the theater. It seemed platonic enough, except that they’d been seated at a candlelit table on the patio beside Lithia Creek, with a canopy of twinkle lights strung through the trees overhead.
“I love this place,” Jonah said as Kate forked up a spicy bite of eggplant from her green curry. “Especially that little mouse over there that keeps darting onto the patio for crumbs, and then running back when the waiter comes out.”
Kate glanced behind her at the bushes to see the tiny pink feet scurrying away. “How do you know I’m not afraid of mice?”
Jonah grinned and poured the last dregs of wine into each of their glasses. “Because I saw you slip him a noodle when you thought no one was looking.”
Kate laughed and lifted her glass, enjoying the crispness of the rosé, the coolness of the evening, the warmth of Jonah’s company. “Guilty as charged,” she admitted. “You’re a very observant guy.”
“I try.” Jonah took a slow sip of wine, then set his glass down and looked at her. “So you just came to Ashland by yourself?”
She felt herself bristling, then relaxed. He was here alone, too, so there was clearly no judgment in the question.
“Yep.” She trailed her fork through the green curry, looking for another bite of chicken. “I used to come here all the time with Anton—that’s my ex. I guess I started thinking of it as ‘our place.’”
“So you’re here to reminisce?”
“God no.” She didn’t realize she’d jerked back until her cardigan slipped off one shoulder. Tugging it back up, she shook her head at Jonah. “It’s the opposite, really. I’m here to reclaim it.”
“Reclaim it?”
She shrugged and scraped a pile of rice to the middle of her plate, not wanting to miss a bite of it. “There’s this book I really love about getting on with life after a bad breakup—” She stopped, reconsidering how far she wanted to go down that path as she shoveled sauce-soaked rice onto her fork. “Anyway, it talks about reclaiming memories and places after a split. I used to come here with my parents as a teenager, so it’s really more my place than ours. Anton’s and mine, I mean. I realized I was being silly letting it stay haunted by ghosts of relationships past.”
“Ghosts of relationships past,” he repeated, giving her an odd look. “That’s an interesting turn of phrase.”
“I can’t actually take credit for it,” she said. “It’s from that relationship guide I mentioned.”
Something flickered in Jonah’s face, but it was gone in an instant. Maybe he wasn’t used to women admitting they read self-help books, but Kate refused to feel embarrassed. If anything, it was a point of pride, a reminder that she was willing to improve and grow and embrace change. Anyone who’d judge her for it was not the sort of guy whose opinion she valued.
“Breakups are tough,” he said. “Sounds like you’ve done a good job moving on.”
“I like to think so.” She studied him for a moment. “You’re not married, are you? Sorry to be blunt, but the last three guys I’ve gone out with turned out to be married. Not that this is a date, but—”
“Divorced.” The answer was firm and decisive, but he didn’t volunteer anything else. Kate lifted her wineglass.
“Well, here’s to having the self-assurance to vacation solo,” she said. “Feeling confident dining alone or seeing a movie by yourself or whatever.”
“Cheers to that,” he agreed, clinking his glass against hers. “Some of my happiest moments have been totally solo. No offense, of course.”
Kate grinned. “None taken. Enjoying the pleasure of your own company is one of the greatest skills to master.”
She replayed her own words in her brain and wondered if they sounded entirely too masturbatory. Jonah didn’t react, so she was probably overthinking things.
She watched him drain the last of his wine and tried not to be disappointed their plates were empty. Despite her assertions about the importance of flying solo, she’d enjoyed his company. A lot, actually. True, there was no point starting something with a guy who lived in another state. Or a guy from anywhere, really—
“Wait, no, you don’t have to do that.” She made a grab for the credit card he’d handed the passing waitress, but she missed and ended up grabbing the woman’s hip instead. “Sorry about that,” Kate said as she fished into her purse for her wallet. “Please, let me—”
“It’s fine, Kate.” Jonah grinned at her and caught her hand in his. He didn’t let go right away. “I’m not paying so you’ll put out.”
The waitress giggled and hurried away, and Kate felt herself blushing all the way to the tips of her hair. She sat back in her chair with a grimace. “Sorry. I’m a little out of practice at this. But, you shouldn’t have to foot the whole bill for this.”
“I think I can manage.”
She must have looked dubious, which was pretty lousy of her. It wasn’t like she had any idea how much a bookstore owner made.
Seeming to read her thoughts, Jonah grinned. “I have other sources of income,” he said, pausing long enough to scrawl his signature on the bill the waitress handed him. Reading upside down, Kate could see he’d left a generous tip. “The bookstore isn’t my only revenue stream.”
“Oh. That’s—that’s good.”
She waited to see if he’d volunteer more, but he seemed to be done discussing his finances. She thought about what else she wanted to know about him. How long had his marriage lasted? Did he have any kids? Any tattoos or pets or—
“Don’t be afraid to ask blunt questions at the start of a relationship!” Kate’s brain quoted matter-of-factly from one of Dr. Brandt’s older books. “Someone who’d judge you for being inquisitive and straightforward isn’t worth getting to know, and walking on eggshells only makes your toes cramp!”
It felt weird to hear the words echoing in her head now, considering this wasn’t a relationship and she’d probably never see Jonah again.
They both stood and Kate tugged her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. The fall evening had turned chilly, and she shivered as she started up the stairs leading from the courtyard to the street. She was conscious of Jonah right behind her, and wondered if she had panty lines showing through the thin jersey fabric of her dress. The hemline came all the way to her ankles, and part of her wished she’d worn something knee-length or maybe gone commando.
“Something’s making you smile,” Jonah remarked as they reached the street and fell into step together.
Kate couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement, but she blurted an answer anyway. “Underwear.”
He laughed as they headed back toward the B&B. “I guess that’s something to smile about. Did you know nine percent of American men have underwear that’s at least ten years old?”
“That’s—wow.” She looked up at him. “So you might be wearing underwear purchased around the first time you legally bought beer?”
He grinned as his elbow bumped hers. “Was that a roundabout way of asking how old I am, or a roundabout way of assessing my hygiene?”
“Neither, really. Just an observation.” Kate shrugged as she sidestepped a crack in the sidewalk. “I don’t usually hold back if I have a question or something I want to say.”
“That’s a good trait to have. Straightforwardness, I mean. I’m thirty-six, by the way. And I bought all new underwear after my divorce.”
Kate laughed. “That’s an interesting post-divorce ritual.”
“Not a ritual so much as reestablishing my identity,” he said. “She liked boxers, but I’m more of a boxer-brief guy.”
“Reclaiming your sense of self with underwear. I like it.” Kate hesitated, not sure if she should press for more. But hell, he’d been the one to bring up the ex. “You’ve been divorced awhile?”
He shrugged. “A year or so.”
“Was it ugly?”
Jonah kicked a pinecone out of their way. “Nah, it was pretty amicable. Well, as amicable as divorce can be when one person gets fed up and pulls the plug while the other is sitting there like a dumbass wondering what the hell just happened.”
“Which were you?”
“The dumbass.” He gave a funny little laugh. “Probably part of the impetus for the divorce.”
Kate smiled to herself and tugged her cardigan tighter around her waist. “I don’t think dumbasses generally use words like impetus and amicable.”
He turned and looked at her, a flash of surprise in his expression. “Good point.”
A breeze kicked up, sending a pile of dry leaves skittering across the road. Kate didn’t realize she’d shivered until Jonah began shrugging off his jacket. “Here. We’ve got two blocks to go. I don’t want you freezing to death.”
“I don’t want you to freeze either.”
“I’ve got a long-sleeved shirt under a sweater,” he insisted as he settled the chocolate-colored suede around her shoulders. “I’m good.”
She started to protest again, but the jacket felt warm and smelled like cloves and cedar dust. It was five sizes too big, but she snuggled into it and tucked her hands up inside the sleeves.
“Thanks,” she said as they started walking again. “You’re very chivalrous.”
Jonah laughed. “My sister would say overprotective, and meddling, but I’ll take it.”
Kate smiled and breathed in the scent of crushed leaves and the warm leather of the jacket, letting the soft suede collar brush her cheek. She wondered if this qualified as a date. If it did, it was one of the nicest ones she’d had in months.
She was almost disappointed when they reached the B&B. He held the little white gate open for her, and Kate filed through, shuffling slowly up the steps. She hesitated at the top, pivoting on the wide front porch to face him.
“This has been a really fun day,” she said. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure. I enjoyed getting to know you.”
He lifted his hand, and she thought he might reach for her. Pull her in for a good-night kiss or a romantic cheek graze. She thought she might want him to.
Instead, he curled his fingers around the chain holding a white, painted porch swing under the eaves. He glanced at the front door, but made no move to go inside.
“Did you get one of the rooms on the ground floor, or on the second floor?” he asked.
Kate hesitated. He must have noticed, because he held up a hand and shook his head. “Wait, don’t answer that. I didn’t mean to sound like a creepy stalker. I was just making conversation.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m on the second floor.”
“Ground floor,” he said. “Right off the library.”
“Mm, I hear that room’s nice,” she said. “It’s got that antique, claw-foot tub, right?”
Oh shit. Did that sound like a request for an invitation? She hadn’t meant it to.
But Jonah just smiled and nodded. “It does. I haven’t used it, but you’re welcome to check it out if you want.”
Kate bit her lip. She was so out of practice. On one hand, she didn’t want to end the evening. On the other hand, she didn’t know what else to do. Invite him to her room? Suggest a nightcap? Was that even something people did, or were nightcaps only a thing in old movies?
She took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t do one-night stands.”
“What?” Jonah barked out a laugh. He was still gripping the chain of the porch swing, and the whole thing began to shake as he convulsed with laughter. He was laughing so hard he had to sit down in the swing, and Kate seated herself on the edge of the swing beside him, feeling silly.
“Sorry,” he said as he took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. “I didn’t see that one coming.” When he finally looked at her, he cocked his head to the side. “Was there a ‘but’ coming next? ‘I don’t normally have one-night stands, but with you—’”
“No.” She shook her head, wishing she could restart this conversation. “That’s not what I was getting at. I just wanted to be clear; I’m not having sex with you. I also don’t do long-distance relationships.”
“I see,” he said, still sounding amused. “And there’s nothing in between those two?”
Kate’s cheeks were burning, and she folded her hands in her lap. In her quest to be a forthright communicator, had she turned herself into a social moron?
But Jonah pushed his feet against the wood slats of the porch and sent the swing into a gentle sway. They glided back and forth a few times, rocking in a gentle rhythm that gradually began to soothe Kate’s tattered nerves. “I wasn’t planning to seduce you,” he said. “Not that I’d object if you wanted to seduce me. You’re very hot. And smart. And funny. Did I mention hot?”
He grinned, and Kate’s insides liquefied. Maybe she’d been too quick to dismiss the idea of a one-night stand.
No, of course she wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t her style. Still—
“You’re hot, too,” she acknowledged as she leaned back against the swing and kicked her feet. “This is nice. Just swinging. It’s such a pleasant night.”
“That it is.” He kicked off the porch again, giving them a little more momentum. “Swinging soothes the soul.”
“Can we sit here and talk for a while?” she suggested.
“I’d like that.” He smiled. “And maybe you’d let me hold your hand?”
Kate grinned and slid her hand onto his knee. He wrapped his fingers around hers, forming a comfortable web of digits. “I’d like that,” she said. “I’d like that a lot.”
Jonah leaned a little closer, and Kate gave a little sigh of pleasure. “And maybe eventually,” he murmured, “you’d let me kiss you good night?”
Kate looked up at him, admiring the soft creases in his forehead, the fringe of dark lashes, the sparkle of streetlights in those amber-green eyes.
“Why wait for eventually?” she murmured back.
Then she leaned up and kissed him.
Four weeks later, Kate was still thinking about that kiss.
Well, she thought about other things, too. Like the fact that she was on the brink of one of the biggest breaks in her career.
“So the rest of the network guys liked the pitch?”
Kate nodded. “They loved it.” She glanced over at her assistant producer in the passenger seat. Amy’s wild blond curls fluttered in the current from the rental car’s air vents, and her manicured fingers drummed the stack of books in her lap. The sight of those books sent a pulse of happiness through Kate’s body.
She knew every one of them by heart.
There was But Not Broken, Vivienne Brandt’s debut memoir about finding love after an abusive relationship.
On the Other Hand was the follow-up, a sort of relationship self-help guide for couples.
The newest title, Making It Work, had only been out a few weeks and featured Vivienne Brandt’s advice for real-life couples experiencing challenges in their relationships.
“I still can’t believe you convinced Vivienne Brandt to do a reality show,” Amy said, jarring Kate back to the present.
“I’m still kind of stunned myself,” Kate admitted. “Don’t forget we’re avoiding the term reality show. At least when we’re talking to Dr. Vivienne.”
“I know, I know,” Amy said. “It’s ‘unscripted television.’” The implied air quotes said plenty about Amy’s opinion of the nitpicky word choice, but Kate didn’t care.
“We can call it whatever we want when we’re alone,” Kate said. “But it’s important to Vivienne that we keep things sounding sophisticated and educational.”
“Hey, whatever keeps the good doc happy.”
Kate steered the car off I-5 with a flutter of anticipation. She couldn’t believe she was here in Seattle. The whole thing had happened so quickly. Well, quickly in TV terms.
And somehow, she’d made it all happen. First, she’d convinced Vivienne Brandt—her freakin’ idol—to do a television show. And then she’d convinced the studio to back it. And yesterday morning, she’d gotten a tentative okay from the Empire TV network. The sizzle reel she and Amy had put together was one of the best they’d ever done, and the whole thing was almost in the bag.
Almost.
As though reading her thoughts, Amy cleared her throat. “So you think the network is going to pick it up?”
“They want to,” Kate said. “We just have to get Dr. Vivienne to agree to their changes.”
“She has to,” Amy said with all the determination of someone still relatively new to the television industry. “Besides, the network’s title is better anyway. Relationship Reboot with Dr. Viv has such a cool ring to it.”
“I agree,” Kate said. “It’s not the title I’m worried about. It’s the other change that might be an issue.”
“Right.” Amy shuffled the books in her lap, bringing On the Other Hand to the top. The cover featured the interlaced fingers of husband and wife, wedding rings on casual display. It was one of Kate’s favorites, both the cover and the book itself. She used to keep it on her nightstand and read sections aloud to Anton. Chapters about communication techniques and relationship-building exercises and—
“Do you think she’s going to go for it?” Amy asked.
Kate glanced at her. “Having her husband involved?”
Amy nodded. “I mean, I loved how they wound up together at the end of But Not Broken,” she said. “And his sidebars in On the Other Hand were terrific. So lighthearted and genuine. Maybe even better than her parts.”
Kate cringed. “Please, please don’t say that in front of her.”
“Obviously,” Amy said with an eye roll Kate didn’t see, but could hear in her tone. “It’s true, though, right? I mean, why else would the network be so adamant about adding him?”
“Dr. Vivienne is the one with the PhD in psychology,” she reminded Amy. “He just wrote the sidebars. Besides, we didn’t pitch this show as a two-person act. This was just supposed to be Dr. Vivienne’s show.”
“But you think she’ll do it?”
“I don’t know. She was pretty guarded when I told her about it on the phone yesterday. I’m guessing she has some concerns.”
“So that’s why she wants to meet with us alone before we sit down with the network team?”
“Yep.” At least Kate hoped so. She had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Amy continued chattering as Kate took a sharp right. “I’ve been reading old reviews of On the Other Hand,” Amy said. “Female readers really connected with the whole Average-Joe thing. I think it’ll add a lot to the show.”
“But her new book doesn’t have that at all,” Kate pointed out as she continued down the narrow street lined with gated properties and towering stucco houses. And trees. So many trees. Must be a Seattle thing.
“I’m only a couple chapters into that one,” Amy said.
“Making It Work is just Dr. Vivienne’s perspectives on a whole bunch of different relationships in jeopardy, and it’s been on the New York Times bestseller list for weeks.”
“Her career is definitely hot right now,” Amy said. “Putting her on television is a fabulous idea.”
“It is great timing,” Kate agreed as she pulled up to the gate and punched in the code Dr. Vivienne had given her. Her stomach did a triple backflip of anticipation. She’d met Dr. Vivienne before, of course, but never at her home. Never like this. Here she was, Kate Geary, driving alongside the hydrangea bushes of the woman who’d written the books that got Kate through the toughest times in her life.
She took a deep breath and eased into the circular driveway.
“Nice place,” Amy said as she eyed the massive house. “The self-help gig must pay pretty well.”
“She’s done other things,” Kate said. “Speaking engagements and workshops.”
Amy looked at the house again. “We’re not all going to hold hands and talk about our feelings, are we?”
“I highly doubt it,” Kate assured her as she parked the car, then checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror. “She’s really down-to-earth. I’m sure you’ll love her.”
Kate stepped out of the car and smoothed down the front of her gray pencil skirt. She wore a conservative navy blouse and low heels, her all-business look. She grabbed her leather briefcase from the backseat and started toward the front door with Amy right behind her. “How’s my hair?” Amy asked.
Kate pivoted on the doorstep and paused to adjust the bobby pin holding Amy’s wild blond curls back from her face. “Perfect.”
“Here, you’ve got a smudge of eyeliner right here.” Amy dabbed the corner of Kate’s cheekbone with a damp thumb.
“Did you just spit on me?”
“Yes, but I did it with the utmost respect.” Amy grinned. “You’re all good.”
Kate reached up and rang the doorbell, braced to be greeted by a stiffly attired butler or maybe Dr. Viv’s personal assistant.
But when the door flew open, it was the woman herself who greeted them. Vivienne Brandt’s trademark long, dark hair was swept back in a low ponytail, and she wore only the faintest hint of makeup on her flawless porcelain skin. The thin gold bangles on her right wrist chimed when she lifted her hand. She looked elegant in loose linen slacks and a simple black T-shirt, and as she shifted to acknowledge Amy with a smile, Kate couldn’t help envying the delicate arches of her bare feet.
“Kate! It’s so good to see you again!”
Vivienne clasped Kate’s hand in hers, replacing Kate’s intended handshake with a friendlier grasp that left Kate wondering how long she should stand here holding hands with a relative stranger.
“Hello, Vivienne,” Kate said, turning just enough to free her hand. “I’d like you to meet our assistant producer, Amy Bartholomew.”
“Ma’am,” Amy said. “I absolutely love your books.”
“Such a pleasure to meet you,” Dr. Vivienne said as she gave Amy the same hand-holding treatment. “Please, call me Viv. And come on in! I’ve got water and herbal tea and some light refreshments in the parlor.”
“Light refreshments in the parlor,” Kate recited in her mind as she followed Dr. Viv down a well-lit corridor lined with cool Italian marble and Asian artifacts. There was something lovely and lilting about the phrase, and it gave Kate a fresh boost of confidence about how well Dr. Viv would do on camera.
“This is a beautiful space,” Kate remarked, taking in the tall, floor-to-ceiling windows, the clean lines, the modern sparseness of the décor.
“Thanks.” Viv halted in the center of the room—the parlor, Kate presumed—and swept her arms in a wide arc. “You can see now why I wanted the team to consider filming here in my home. It’s sleek, but intimate. Cozy, but professional. I think it sets the perfect tone.”
“Very modern,” Amy murmured, nodding as she paused to scribble something on her ever-present notepad.
Kate glanced at her watch. “We have two hours until the network guys show. You said you wanted to go over their proposal?”
“Right.” For the first time since they’d arrived, Viv’s perfect smile seemed to falter just a little. Still rooted in the center of the parlor, she shifted from one bare foot to the other, then gestured to a buttery-looking leather sofa in a soft gray. “Please, have a seat. Help yourselves to the cucumber water, fresh fruit, nuts—whatever you like.”
Viv’s new uneasiness made the hair prickle on the back of Kate’s neck, but she seated herself on the edge of the sofa and grabbed a small handful of raw almonds. She slipped one in her mouth as Amy filled three glasses from a pitcher brimming with slices of cucumber and lemon and slid a coaster under each one. They waited for Viv to sit, but she remained standing.
“So,” Viv said, clasping her hands together. “I was a little surprised by the title change, but I’m fine with it. Relationship Reboot with Dr. Viv is casual and catchy, and I’m sure it will resonate better with viewers.”
“Excellent.” Amy plucked a handful of grapes off the platter. “I’ll get the paperwork rolling on that end.”
Viv nodded, and Kate watched her fiddle with the gold bangles, then take a deep breath.
“All right, I’ll just come out and say this.” Viv cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you this in person, rather than on the phone or in an e-mail. And I wanted you to see the space first, so you can see how perfect this would be.”
Kate felt Amy stiffen beside her. “The space is lovely,” Amy said. “I’m sure the network will consider it.”
Kate kept her attention on Viv. “What do you need to tell us?”
Vivienne took another deep breath, then gave a nervous little laugh. “Goodness, look at me. I’ve written all these books encouraging forthright communication and blunt honesty, and I can’t seem to spit out the words.”
“It’s okay,” Kate said, struck by how human Viv seemed. How down-to-earth. She’d idolized Vivienne Brandt for years, and there was something sweet about seeing her so uncertain. “Take your time.”
Kate glanced at Amy, who looked jumpy on the sofa beside her. She turned back to Viv, who was still working to compose herself.
“All right.” Viv took a few more breaths, then arranged her expression into one of lovely serenity.
That’ll look great on camera, Kate thought, even as the back of her neck continued to prickle.
“The network’s request—the one about having my husband be part of the show?” Viv began.
Kate felt herself nodding as Amy bumped her knee with the side of her notebook.
“They liked the idea of breakout sessions,” Amy said. “You do most of the counseling, but then bring your husband in for a round of ‘Straight Talk with Average Joe.’ They think it’ll resonate with male viewers in particular.”
“Right, well—that’s going to be a problem.” Vivienne unclasped her fingers and reached up to fiddle with the bangles again. “I need to just lay this out there. Joe and I went through a very difficult time in our marriage between the completion of the manuscript for On the Other Hand and the release of the actual book.”
“A difficult time?” Kate frowned, picturing plates hurled at the wall in anger or heated arguments about which way the toilet paper should roll.
“Nothing violent or overly contentious,” Viv amended softly. “Just a—a slow dying of love.”
“Oh,” Amy murmured as Kate’s heart began to race.
“By the time the book was released, we weren’t even living together anymore,” Viv said.
“But—but—” Kate dropped the almond that had been en route to her mouth. She thought about grabbing for it, but that was the least of her concerns right now. “I don’t understand. You did that whole publicity tour together. Book signings and magazine interviews and—”
“We scrapped all the television appearances, and stuck with things that minimized public appearances together.” Vivienne sighed. “I know what you’re thinking. I know this goes against everything I’ve written about authenticity and being true to yourself, but our publicist thought it would be best if we pretended everything was fine just to get through the PR obligations together. We were still technically married at that point, and we figured we could go our separate ways once the limelight was off us.”
Kate blinked. “So you’re divorced?”
Viv nodded and looked down at her hands. “It was final long before Making It Work came out. Almost eighteen months now. Things had died down after all the hoopla for On the Other Hand, and the paperwork went through quietly. We were still friendly enough to handle all that ourselves, so there was no need to involve lawyers or make a big deal about it. We just—cut ties and moved on.”
Amy shook her head, her expression nearly as dumbstruck as Kate felt. “So that’s why he’s not mentioned in your new book,” Amy said, earning herself a slow nod from Vivienne. “That’s why Making It Work is all about case studies and other people’s marriages with no personal anecdotes of your own.”
“But you thanked him,” Kate said. “In the acknowledgments for Making It Work—you wrote, ‘And thank you to Joe: For everything.’”
Okay, in light of what she’d just heard, it wasn’t the most romantic thing one spouse had ever written to another in the acknowledgments. Still—
“The split was friendly,” Viv said. “And I am thankful for Joe’s part in my life, even if we’re no longer together as a married couple.”
Kate nodded. There was a humming in her ears, and she could see this whole plan going up in smoke. She licked her lips.
“This is going to be a problem for the network,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I have to be honest with you here. I know when we first approached you and talked about a stand-alone show that just featured you, everyone was on board. But the network is only interested if Joe is part of the plan. I’m almost certain that’s the only way they’ll bite. If we’d known this sooner—”
She stopped, not wanting to play the blame game. Not wanting to finish by saying then would have been the time to mention the divorce.
But Viv had spent enough time as a counselor to know damn well what Kate was thinking. “I hear you,” she said. “It would have been easier to scrap the show and go with something else if I’d let you know the situation sooner. But I wanted to give you the chance to consider an alternative.”
“An alternative?”
Viv nodded. “I feel confident I can still convince Joe to be part of the program.”
“With his ex-wife?” Amy’s tone was incredulous, but Kate couldn’t blame her. She was thinking the same thing.
“As I said, the split was amicable,” Viv said. “We’re still adults who are capable of working together in a professional capacity. We already proved that during the publicity blitz for On the Other Hand, didn’t we?”
“True,” Kate acknowledged, still reeling a little from the shock. “So Joe—he’s on board with this plan?”
“And what would this even look like?” Amy asked. “Would you pretend you’re still married, or do the show as exes, or—”
“These are all excellent questions, and I’d love it if we could all sit down and discuss them together.” Vivienne glanced at her watch. “He should be here any minute.”
Amy frowned. “He’s on his way here now? Average Joe?”
“The one and only.” Viv offered a smile that seemed a little forced, and Kate felt a knot in the pit of her belly.
“And he’s willing to go along with this?” she asked.
“I’m sure as soon as we explain the whole concept to him, he’ll see this is a positive move for us bo—”
“Wait.” Kate blinked. “You mean you haven’t told him about this?”
“I thought it would be best if you were here to answer questions.” Viv glanced toward the front window and smiled. “Ah, here he is now. Excuse me one second.”
Vivienne scrambled up and strode from the parlor on enviably long legs. Kate gaped after her, too stunned to form words.
“This is nuts!” Amy stage-whispered. “Why would she wait until now to bring it up?”
“Well, we did just find out yesterday that the network wanted Average Joe in the program,” Kate whispered back. “It’s not like she had a lot of time to plan.”
“Still, she could have called him or told him in person before we flew all the way out here.”
“It’s a technique,” Kate said as a male voice murmured a polite-sounding greeting in the foyer. “She talks about it in chapter six in Making It Work. This idea of getting everyone together in one place to have the difficult conversations so everyone’s hearing the same story and there are no games of telephone or miscommunications or—”
“Everyone’s in here, darling.” Vivienne’s voice echoed from the hallway, and Kate snapped her attention to the parlor doorway. “I’ll explain in just a second why I’ve asked you to join me today.”
“Jesus, Viv,” muttered a male voice. “Always with the drama. Can’t we just have a conversation like normal fucking pe—”
The words died in his throat as the man froze in the doorway. His eyes locked with Kate’s, and she heard herself give a startled gasp. She started to stand up, but bumped her water glass with her knee and sent it toppling onto Amy’s lap and the tidy glass table in front of them.
Amy gasped, too, so at least Kate wasn’t the only one who sounded like a hyperventilating hyena. Tearing her eyes from the doorway, Kate yanked off her cardigan and threw it over the blossoming puddle of cucumber water before it reached the edge of the table.
Then she turned and met those amber-green eyes again.
“Jonah?”