Four days, Claire thought as she let herself into her house on Monday afternoon. How had one cup of coffee turned into four days?

She slammed the door behind her in hopes of getting a response out of Tristan. He didn’t even flinch from his prone position on the couch. Her couch.

For the last ninety-six hours he had been there, not showing much interest in anything but TV infomercials and tequila. An interest that was minimal at best. Well, at least where the infomercials were concerned. Under normal circumstances, Claire might have been worried about sharing such close quarters with her soon-to-be-ex-husband. Now she was just worried about how she was going to get rid of him.

She tossed her keys into her purse and dropped her book bag by the door as loudly as she could. Bruno, at last, noticed her entrance and raced toward her, all the while barking out his yappy greeting.

Tristan stirred, rolling over and squinting at her.

“Did I wake you?” Claire asked innocently.

He grunted his reply, then pushed himself into a half-sitting position. “What time is it?”

“After two.”

“In the afternoon?”

“Yes.” Claire shrugged out of her coat, then scooped Bruno into her arms.

He licked her face with doggie glee. At least somebody was happy to see her.

“Oh,” Tristan said.

Not “gee, already?” or “where does the day go?”

He rubbed his eyes and scratched his chin. What used to be five o’clock shadow had turned into a full-fledged beard. His clothing, rain-stained and suffering four days’ worth of wear was beyond rumpled. In fact, Tristan himself, once a well-groomed, powerful businessman was now the poster child for drunk and frayed. Perhaps he needed to join Unkempt Ex-Billionaires Anonymous. And if there wasn’t such an organization, perhaps he should start one. The worst part of it all was that he seemed to have sprouted roots on her couch.

It was more than ironic that once she had made up her mind to get Tristan completely out of her life he popped back into it with a vengeance.

“Uh, Tristan…”

He grunted once again.

Claire bit back a sigh. He looked tired, beat down, sitting on her couch his hands dangling between his knees. His eyes held a hollow look, as if he’d seen it all and then given up.

“We need to talk,” she continued as gently as she could. She hated to bring it up, hated to see Tristan this way. She couldn’t enable him to continue down his current path of self-destruction.

With a frown at the empty bottles of a twelve pack of imported beer, Claire perched on the edge of the rattan chair opposite the couch and formulated her words. “It’s really none of my business if you want to drink your breakfast—”

“I’ll drink to that,” Tristan quipped, searching around him, most likely for an unopened bottle.

“—unless you insist on doing it in my home.”

Tristan stopped and stared at her with weary, bloodshot eyes. Once those very same orbs had burned with an intelligent hazel fire. Now…well, now they didn’t. “Are you kicking me out too?”

Too? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“What’s wrong with everybody?” He jumped to his feet with surprising agility considering the amount of empty bottles scattered about. “Oh, sure,” he ranted as he paced in front of the fireplace. “If you have almost forty billion, everybody wants to be your friend. But lose it all and nobody remembers your name.”

“Tristan,” Claire started, not really knowing what to say next.

“Okay,” he snorted. “My wife remembers my name. Excuse me. Ex-wife.

Claire stood as well, staring him straight in the eye. The implications of his words were clear: if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have lost it all. “You’re not being fair.”

“Tell me one thing that’s happened this year that has been fair.” He collapsed back onto the sofa, barely missing Bruno as he flopped down. With a defeated sigh, Tristan ran his fingers through his already rumpled hair. “I should have stayed in Belize.”

Claire took a deep breath and crossed her arms. She had never seen this side of Tristan before, this half-drunk, angry-at-the-world side. She was a little unsure of how to handle him. But somehow she knew that kid gloves weren’t the answer. “Devin kicked you out?” It was almost a question.

“Self-righteous jerk.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tristan glared at her.

“I can’t say that I blame him.” There. She’d said it. “You’ve been here four days. Four days. All you have done is drink and take up space on my sofa.”

His glare turned into a shocked stare.

Now was the time to tell him to leave. Get out.

Adios.

“And if you continue to act this way, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Not exactly get out of my life forever. But it was a start.

Tristan blinked at her once. Then again. He studied her for a long time, seemingly to determine just how serious she really was. After what seemed to be several minutes of scrutiny, he nodded. “All right,” he said. “It’s a deal.”

He stood and gathered up the trash that littered the area around the couch—the area where he’d camped out—and took it into the kitchen. Moments later he reappeared empty handed. “I’m going to take a shower now.”

It was Claire’s turn to stare. She watched his departing back as he headed down the hallway.

Just how had “I need you to leave” turned into a “deal”?

♥♥♥

Tristan hit the button on the remote and sent the television onto the next channel. Seventy some-odd stations and nothing good to watch. He glanced across the room where Claire sat, her legs curled under her, nose buried in a book.

It had been two days since she had put her foot down with him. Funny, but he was glad that she had set him on a straighter, narrower path. But even though it had been over forty-eight hours since he’d last had a drink, his thinking wasn’t any clearer.

And it was all because of Claire.

The fire crackled and popped, the bright flames shooting amber shadows around the room. Golden lights shone in her hair as she tilted her head and turned the page of her textbook.

“Is the TV bothering you?”

A gentle grunt was her only reply.

“Because I can turn it down if it is.”

“Hmmmm…” She didn’t even lift her head.

Evidently her schoolwork was more interesting than he was. “What are you studying?”

“American history.” Once again she answered without looking up from the page.

“I know that.” Tristan switched off the television. “I mean, what are you studying at school? You know, in general.”

She stuck her finger in the pages of her book as a marker and closed it. “Travel Hospitality.”

Her answer took Tristan by surprise.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Why?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Claire shrugged. She laid her book aside and drew her knees up to her chest. Firelight still kissed her features. “Before Nanie died—”

“Who’s Nanie?” For the first time since he had met her, Tristan was painfully aware of how little he knew about his wife.

“My grandmother. She passed away earlier this year.”

“I’m sorry.”

Claire nodded as tears filled her eyes. “She was the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever had.”

Tristan bit back his question concerning what had happened to her mother. One set of tears was enough. But how had he lived with this woman for months and not known any of this about her?

“Anyway,” Claire continued, wiping her cheeks, then smiling sadly. “She was very ill and…well, I always wanted to travel. Since Nanie needed me to take care of her, I took geography courses at the university—”

“To travel through books,” Tristan finished for her.

“Something like that.”

“I never knew you were interested in travel.”

Claire just shook her head. “There’s a lot about me that you never knew.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “What’s next? After geography, I mean.”

Claire dropped her gaze and picked at a spot on the knee of her jeans. Finally, she raised her head. “I’ve applied with a couple of the major cruise lines to be an entertainment director.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Very serious.”

Who was this woman seated across from him?

Definitely not the shy girl he had married. “So you’re going to just pack up and head out to sea?”

“Take a good look around you, Tristan. There’s not a lot to pack up.”

He supposed there wasn’t, but somehow it always seemed that Claire had everything she needed. Or maybe being with her was all that he really needed.

“Why’d you marry me?”

She shrugged, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was practically homeless, not much money to my name…” She shook her head. “When you’re vulnerable, it’s really easy to…”

“To what?”

She lifted her head and finally met his gaze. “To let yourself get taken advantage of.”

“You feel you were taken advantage of?”

“I feel I let myself get taken advantage of.”

“How so?”

“Oh, Tristan. I was young and naive and new in the big city. I’d just taken a job that might get me enough money to pay my half of the rent. Then in walks the most handsome man I’ve ever seen and he proposes. To me. It’s been a roller coaster ride ever since.”

Pain shot through Tristan’s gut. He’d never looked at it from Claire’s point of view. At the time he just needed a wife and any woman would do. “You were the one who kept raising the stakes.”

She smiled in remembrance. “A fluke, believe me. All I wanted was to know that I was going to eat and have a roof over my head.”

He hadn’t known that things were so bad for her then. Had never even dreamed. And now that he knew, he wanted to make everything better. He stood and made his way over to where she sat. He sank down next to her and took her hands into his own. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

But he knew she was lying. He could see it in her eyes, those wonderful, marvelous turquoise eyes that a man could easily drown in.

Tristan leaned in closer to Claire. He wanted to get lost in those eyes, he wanted it more than almost anything, but not more than kissing her.

Her lips parted beneath his. He had forgotten how sweet her kisses had been. Or maybe he had tried not to remember. He wanted his wife, wanted to scoop her up into his arms and take her to her bedroom and find out if making love to her was as special as he thought it would be.

Claire worked her hands between them and pushed.

“Tristan,” she whispered, her voice thready as she tried to regain her breath.

He smiled to himself. He liked having this effect on Claire. He liked the effect she was having on him.

“I think we should go to bed.”

“I think we should too,” he whispered in return, then pressed a small kiss to her lips.

She shook her head. “Alone.”

Sucker-punched was the only word to describe the feeling in his gut as Claire stood. She ran her hands down the thighs of her jeans and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It was as if she wanted to say something more to him but couldn’t find the words.

“Good night,” was all she managed before making her way down the hall and into her bedroom.

Tristan leaned back on the couch, his mind swimming with images of her, his mouth filled with her taste.

It was going to be one long night.

♥♥♥

It had been one long day. Devin sat back in his borrowed chair and rubbed his eyes. Who was he trying to kid? It had been one long year. So far he’d been forced to get married and move back into the family mansion, he’d taken over the family business and kicked his brother out on his tail. Yessiree, it had been quite a year.

Never in a million years had he imagined that Tristan would take his threat seriously. And that’s what Devin’s demand for Tristan to move out had really been—a threat. Devin had played enough poker in his travels to know that sometimes you had to bluff. He just never expected Tristan to call him on it. But he had. Now it had been almost two weeks since Tristan had walked out and quite frankly, Devin was worried.

He knew his brother had enough money and street smarts to survive, he just figured that he would at least call. Or maybe even drop by the house for supper once or twice a week.

And then there was the Board. Devin had been trying every day to change their collective minds concerning the new children’s line and every day he grew more and more frustrated.

Esperanza’s brainchild was a fresh new look, just what McFarland needed. Instead of the traditional pastels and white for baby, Espie’s cutting edge designs were fashioned out of splashy, fun colors with vivid patterns and a little bit of South of the Border flair. He’d even expanded the idea to include matching outfits for mother and infant, add in some maternity wear and perhaps a limited number of outfits for the new dad and McFarland would be on top in no time. But the old goats wouldn’t hear of it.

If that wasn’t enough, each day was a constant challenge of one thing or another. Problems seemed to crop up like the proverbial bad penny. If it wasn’t the coffee maker in the employee’s lounge, it was the fire marshal citing McFarland for lack of a proper fire lane. Every day it was something new. Sometimes he felt as if he were the only one in the company who could make a decision. Lord, he didn’t know how Tristan had handled it all.

“Devin.”

He looked up as his wife came into his office. Her English was improving thanks to her continued lessons. Why couldn’t all of life’s little problems be so easily solved?

Espie hovered in his doorway like a reprimanded schoolgirl.

“Well, come on in,” Devin said, hating the exasperated sound of his own voice. Just when had he turned into his uncle?

As Devin shifted the files on his desk and wondered what to do about the Board, Espie crept into the room. “I don’t have the words to tell you,” she started, perching on the edge of a nearby chair.

Oh, great. Just what he needed: another problem. “Just tell me.”

She dropped her chin a notch, seemed to think about it long and hard, then inhaled a tremendous breath. Slowly, she let it out. “We have a baby.”

“Where? In the lobby?” Outstanding. Just marvelous. What a way to end a perfectly terrible day: some irresponsible parent had left their child in his lobby.

“No,” Espie said quietly. “Here.” She pointed to her belly.

Evidently her English hadn’t improved as much as he thought. It was close to time to eat and Esperanza was hungry. Just how she managed to confuse baby with dinner time he’d never understand, but at least there wasn’t a tow-headed toddler downstairs terrorizing the potted ferns.

“Go to dinner without me,” he said, relieved that he didn’t have yet another problem to deal with. He had enough on his plate already. “I’ve got too much to do around here.”

Espie’s brow furrowed in obvious confusion. “No,” she finally said. “No dinner. Baby. We have a baby here.” Once again she pointed at herself.

It took three full minutes for what she said to sink in. We have a baby.

Not in the lobby, but one on the way. Baby.

“You’re pregnant?” He hadn’t meant for the words to come out sounding so sharp, but no one had ever told him that he was going to be a father before. He supposed that he would be happy about the news—maybe later. Right now, he was simply stunned.

Espie nodded, her chin quivering.

He supposed he should get up, go to her. He should hold her close and rejoice in the moment, but he felt as if someone had poured a bucket of Superglue in his seat. All he could do was sit and stare.

He watched numbly as his wife stood and smoothed down the folds of her ankle length skirt. She looked skinny enough. Maybe it was a misunderstanding, maybe she was mistaken.

“That is all,” she said, before turning on her heel and slowly walking from the room.

He waited for her to poke her head back in and claim that this was a very late April Fool’s joke, but deep down he knew it wouldn’t happen.

A baby. Now that was a problem. A big problem. Bigger than any he had faced in his short time at McFarland.

“No,” he said, looking skyward. “This wasn’t part of the deal. I only got married to get my money.”

♥♥♥

Devin’s quiet words washed over Esperanza as she made her way out of his office. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Devin didn’t want the baby, and he had only married her to receive his inheritance. Deep down she had suspected as much, her mother had even warned her about marrying a man she had known so briefly. But did she listen? Oh, no. She had believed in fate and kismet and all the other fairy tales her avó had told her about soul mates and love at first sight. She had believed it all. And where had it gotten her? Right back where she started, and this time with a broken heart as a souvenir.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks as she made her way out of the office building and to the waiting car. She should have known. She should have realized. Devin McFarland was a playboy through and through—always had been, always would be.

She had heard the rumors that the brothers had been forced by their aunt’s will to marry in order to inherit what was rightfully theirs, she just never imagined that such a crazy story could be true. She had told herself that the fact that both brothers married within the same year—after enjoying successful careers as bachelors—was merely a coincidence. She had only been fooling herself.

But no longer. She saw the look on Devin’s face as she told him the news. He was shocked, stunned, but not happy, not excited.

Devin might not want their child, but she did. And just because she was married to um burro didn’t mean that she had to live with him. Not at all. She would take herself and her baby away. And they would live happily ever after. They didn’t need Devin or any of the McFarland money. Not one cent.

♥♥♥

“I’m home,” Claire announced as she walked through the front door. It had been a week since Tristan had kissed her, since she had let him kiss her.

And what a week it had been.

“How did you do on your tests?” Tristan came out of the kitchen wearing an apron and wielding a wooden spoon.

He had made many improvements since Devin had kicked him out. The best one—as far as Claire was concerned—was discovering a culinary talent. Every afternoon, he watched cooking shows on cable TV, then prepared the elaborate meals for Claire that evening. It was delicious, but fattening. She had to get him out of her house soon or she would be as big as a house. But she couldn’t ask him to leave yet. So far he had held up his end of their deal plus some.

“I’m pretty sure I passed.”

Tristan smiled. “I knew it. That’s why I made a special supper to celebrate.”

“What is it?” she asked, starting for the kitchen.

Tristan headed her off. “Uh-uh-uh. It’s a surprise.”

“Whatever it is,” Claire said, inhaling deeply, “it smells delicious.”

“You just go sit on the couch and relax. Or better yet, why don’t you go lie down and take a nap before we eat. You deserve it.”

“That’s all right. I’m not tired.”

Tristan put a hand on his chin and studied her face. “You look exhausted.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“You need a nap,” Tristan insisted.

“But—” Claire started but wasn’t allowed to finish. Tristan clasped a hand on either of her shoulders, spun her around, and marched her in the direction of her bedroom.

“I think you need a nap,” he said again, this time with even more conviction.

Claire was a little tired, at least worn-out enough that she didn’t feel like arguing. Without another word, she allowed Tristan to nudge her into the bedroom.

“Oh, my,” she gasped as she took in the sight that greeted her. Every piece of mismatched furniture that she’d bought at various garage sales and flea markets was gone, replaced by a matching suit of honey-colored oak. The quilt that had served as a bedspread had been replaced by the real thing in a satiny, muted green. Now the quilt was lying across a brand new rocking chair. The new linens were pale yellow with tiny checks and flowers intertwined with strands of softly printed ivy. The whole effect was soothing and it felt as if she had stepped into the pages of Better Homes and Gardens.

But it wasn’t her room. Or at least not the room she had left that morning.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” she said turning to face him even though she only wanted to drink in the gorgeous room. “Where’d it come from?”

“O’Neal’s” Tristan replied with a smile. “It’s a furniture store about a mile from—”

“I know where it is. I want to know where the money came from.”

He seemed to think about it long and hard. Just as he opened his mouth to answer her, the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably Jodie,” Claire said.

Tristan smiled. “Saved by the bell.”

Claire started toward the door. “This isn’t over.”

“It’s a present, Claire. Just say thank you.”

“Thank you,” she said with a slight nod of her head. “But it goes back tomorrow. Neither one of us have the money for that.”

The expression on Tristan’s face was mysterious at best.

“What did you do? Win the lottery?” she asked.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No,” he finally said.

There was no reasoning with him when he was in this kind of mood, so Claire just shook her head. No matter what he said, she couldn’t accept such a large gift from him. In the past few days they had developed a kind of friendship, and she wouldn’t let her friend go into debt on her account.

“Jodie,” Claire greeted as she opened the door.

But it wasn’t Jodie on her doorstep.

It was Esperanza. Red cheeks, watery eyes.

“Claire,” the woman greeted, then immediately burst into tears. “I leave Devin,” she managed between her sobs. “He is…how do you say?…smells. No, he is a skunk.”

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status