We chat with author New York Times bestselling author Catherine Bybee about All Our Tomorrows, which follows a reluctant billionaire who takes on his father’s empire, its dark secrets, and a fiery assistant he can’t get out of his head. PLUS we have the first two chapters to share with you at the end of the interview!
What about romance appeals to you as a writer?
The quick answer is I love a Happily Ever After. I want that guarantee that the couple falling in love in the book will be together in the end. The long answer is deeply rooted in my life. As a young adult reader growing up, I had ZERO examples of loving/healthy/monogamous relationships around me. Romance novels gave me hope that that kind of relationship was possible. Fast forward to my reading / writing habits as an adult… I was buried in reality in my day job (Before I wrote my first novel). The Emergency Room has many layers of drama and trauma, so when I read a book, I wanted less reality and more fantasy. With a HEA. I do read other genres at this point, but always sway to romance.
You have said that once you decide upon a title for your novel, you can then envision the entire book. What’s the meaning behind the title ALL OUR TOMORROWS?
Yes, many times I have a title for a book before the book is written. I love it when that happens. However, with ALL OUR TOMORROWS, the title grew from the pages. Without giving too much away, Piper needs the guarantee of tomorrow more than the average heroine for many reasons. When Chase steps up to offer that guarantee, a title is born.
How did your experience as an ER nurse lead you to create your brave, passionate heroine, Piper?
I have an author’s note in this book that clues the reader in on why I felt the need to write this book, and yes, the ER highly influenced the conflict in this book. At least in the context of how much someone else’s opinion on what a woman faced with an unexpected pregnancy should or shouldn’t do. I have seen Bible scripture used like a weapon against these desperately pregnant young women and seen the crushing disappointment when their own parents walk away. I have witnessed the despair women often go through when grappling with their options. Diabetics who nearly died the one time they had a child and were told to avoid another pregnancy at all cost. I’ve watched parents nearly force their daughters to terminate an unexpected pregnancy because they were enrolled in the fall semester at the college they’d always aspired to attend. My heroine, Piper, may not be a young teenager, but her parents and their acceptance of her unexpected child deeply influenced her decisions in this book.
Considering the state of our country and the very real reality for all the Piper’s out there, women are being faced with more than their parent’s trying to dictate what should and shouldn’t take place once both lines on the pregnancy test show up. I wanted to show the struggle many women have, even without the new legislation in many states, and how desperately wrong it is for anyone to force their views on someone else. I want to give the women reading this book the strength to make their own choices. As Piper ultimately did for herself.
What is the main message you hope readers will gain from this novel?
That we all only have one life. If we live it for someone else’s ideals and beliefs, we’re going to make decisions we’ll deeply regret. Oh… and a second message that has to be stated. When someone truly loves you, they don’t need to change a thing about you.
What’s next for Piper and Chase? Will there be a sequel?
As with every Bybee series, my readers will hear more of Piper and Chase’s story sprinkled throughout the coming books. Since the second book in this series is already written, I will tease my readers with this: You don’t want to miss Chase and Piper’s wedding!
CHAPTER ONE
The absolutely best part about attending a funeral of a close family member was the ability to wear sunglasses inside. Anyone looking assumed the shield was there to hide the expression of pain and sorrow. For Chase and Alex, it was all about disguising their shock and disbelief of the complete bullshit being spewed from the pulpit. It was one thing for the priest to deliver an appropriate sermon, but the line of people standing up to verbalize their love for Aaron Stone churned bile in Chase’s stomach.
“Husband, father, philanthropist, the builder of an empire. Aaron was more than an employer, more than his gilded name that graces so many hotels and resorts all over the globe. Aaron Stone was my friend. Someone I could share a drink with after work or spend a weekend in Vegas with on a moment’s notice . . .”
Chase leaned close to his sister’s ear and whispered, “High- end escort service on speed dial, no doubt.”
Alexandrea, or Alex, as she’d always been called, nudged his elbow and placed a handkerchief over her lips to hide her smile.
Exactly ninety grueling minutes of needless prayer and praise for the prick in the casket later, Chase escorted his father’s latest wife behind the coffin while Alex and their mother followed behind.
Chase had been asked if he wanted to be one of the six carrying his dead father to his final resting place, to which Chase replied, “Hell-to-the-no.” He didn’t trust himself not to “accidentally” drop his end just to see the man tumble out of his perfect funeral and hear people laugh.
A long line of limousines stacked up behind the hearse. Melissa Stone, wife number three and a woman two years younger than Chase, climbed into the back of the first car with her brother and parents.
Chase, Alex, and their mother, Vivian, closed themselves behind the darkened glass of the second limousine and released a collective sigh once the cameras of the media could no longer record their reaction.
“Damn, that was painful,” Alex said as soon as the door closed.
“It’s far from over.” Their mother patted Alex’s leg as if that would cure the agony they all felt.
Chase removed his sunglasses and looked at the both of them. They wore black, despite Alex’s threat to wear a bright pink floral dress that screamed celebration and happiness.
“Philanthropist? Exactly what did Dad have to do with giving money to those in need?” Alex asked.
“Tax write-offs, I’m sure,” Chase replied.
The limo started to move.
Chase knew from the plans he’d been shown that four
uniformed motorcycle police officers were escorting the procession to the cemetery. From the cemetery they’d inch their way up the hills until they were safely behind the gates of their father’s Beverly Hills estate, where a reception would host the fake smiles and insincere tears.
A man as wealthy as Aaron Stone was living his death the same way he lived his life. Large.
According to the head of the legal team representing Aaron Stone, the man had planned his funeral a good fifteen years before his death.
Considering Aaron was only in his early sixties and in relatively good health, the fact that he planned his own funeral because no one would be able to do it better put an exclamation point on his narcissism.
“Any idea if Melissa is staying in the house?” Alex asked. Chase shook his head. “I don’t have a clue.”
“Knowing your father, he and Melissa had a prenup.”
“If it’s anything like yours, she’ll be lucky to keep her jewelry.”
Chase held his comments and listened to his sister vent.
She wouldn’t get much of a chance until the show was over and they could retreat to their mother’s modest home in Santa Monica. There, they planned on catching their breath before the morning appointment with the lawyers.
If it wasn’t for the fact that his sister’s and mother’s names were on the list of people requested, Chase would blow off the in-person drama altogether and find a dark bar so he could tell his dead father to fuck off one final time with a shot whiskey.
They pulled into the cemetery, and sunglasses found their way back on noses.
Thankfully, the service at the gravesite was much shorter than that at the church.
Melissa’s loud cries and overly animated tears were out of a scene from a soap opera. The cool breeze of the early spring skies pushed clouds overhead that threatened rain. Literally hundreds of people circled Aaron Stone’s casket, most muttering among themselves, some averting their attention when Chase looked directly at them.
Finally, the priest ended his final prayer, asking God to accept the soul at his gate so Aaron’s family could move on in peace.
It was only then that Chase stared over his father’s casket and felt loss.
Loss for the father he never truly had.
Loss for the chance of redemption.
The man would never again have the opportunity to right the wrongs he had done to his family.
Death had a way of ending all possibility of reconciliation.
***
A long line of funeral guests slowly sauntered up the steps of Aaron Stone’s lavish estate.
Chase stood with Alex on one side and Melissa on the other. It took all of ten minutes before a woman with a cane blocked the parade, giving Chase the out he needed to stop shaking hands and smiling at strangers. “I need a drink,” he said to his sister.
“Great idea,” Alex chimed in.
They both stepped away from the door at the same time. “You can’t leave me here to face these people alone,”
Melissa whined.
“You want to shake the hand of every person that has ever kissed up to my father for the last forty years, be my guest.” Chase smiled at his sister. “Chardonnay?”
“I’m thinking vodka.”
Chase and Alex moved past the foyer and into the formal living room. Framed by pillars and hosting twenty-foot ceilings, the room was large enough to accommodate four separate conversation areas, complete with sofas and chairs. Wall to wall windows were outlined by arches standing side by side, giving the room a spectacular amount of light.
A bar had been set up at one corner of the room, and waitstaff was already circulating with trays of wine.
The table in the formal dining space was overburdened with food. The kind brought in by a caterer rather than thoughtfully made from the kitchen of loved ones overwhelmed with grief.
Alex avoided moving farther into the room when she stopped beside their mother and Nick.
She immediately grabbed whatever Nick was drinking and put it to her lips.
“Atta girl. It’s about time you got hammered. That funeral was painful,” Nick said to their small group.
“Don’t encourage her,” their mother responded.
Nick was Alex’s best friend, who she often referred to as her gay husband. They’d known each other for years, and because of that, Chase often thought of him as an extension of the family.
“I’ll get her her own,” Chase told Nick as he walked away and toward the bar.
“Vodka martini and a double shot of whiskey.” There was no need to specify a brand, the only liquor behind the bar was top shelf.
“Must be a rough day,” someone said behind him.
Chase turned to the slightly familiar face. “There’s certainly other places I’d rather be,” he responded appropriately.
“I bet.”
He had a slight southern accent that tickled the back of Chase’s head as he tried to place the man.
“You don’t remember me.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day with a lot of people,” Chase explained.
The other man extended a hand. “Jack Morrison.”
The name clicked with the face. “Morrison hotels,” Chase said.
Jack nodded. “One in the same. I believe we met right before you graduated high school.”
“I can’t say I remember, but I do know who you are.” Hard not to, considering the name. The Morrison family made their way into the papers, just as the Stones did. Families of wealth and power had a way of flashing on the front page from time to time.
“My father would be here, but he’s ahhh . . . not in good health,” Jack said.
“He sent you.”
“I volunteered.”
Chase narrowed his gaze. “Why?”
Jack was slow to smile, but when he did, he started to laugh. “Polite thing to do.”
“I take it you didn’t know my dad.”
“No. Not well anyway.” Jack rocked back on his heels. “That makes two of us.”
Jack paused. “The tabloids had that right, then?”
Chase took in the other man’s expression. “The part about my father being estranged from his kids? Yeah, that would be one hundred percent accurate.”
“Damn. That makes today extra rough,” Jack said. “You have no idea.”
The bartender placed both drinks on the bar. “Can’t pick your family.”
Chase shook his head, grabbed the drinks. “The tabloids had the estranged part right, the rest is crap. Don’t believe everything you read in the paper,” he said.
“I don’t read them. My wife does. In fact, it was Jessie that suggested I come. She said if there’s an ounce of truth behind what the papers said, you and your sister might need a friendly face among the wolves that are bound to come out of the fields.”
Chase regarded the man with a tilt of his head. Jack seemed genuine, but he didn’t know him well enough to determine if kind words at a funeral put him in the trusted category. “We appreciate that,” Chase spoke for Alex. “I should get this to my sister. We could both use some liquid courage today.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m not hard to get a hold of if you need anything.”
Chase smiled, took a couple of steps, then looked back. “What you said about your father being sick . . . is that true?” Jack hesitated. “He thought your dad was an asshole. My father is a little hard to ignore in a room and didn’t want to make a scene.”
For the first time that day, Chase laughed. Any man as wealthy and influential as Jack Morrison who was willing to call a dead man an asshole . . . at his funeral, was good by Chase. “I’ll be in touch,” he said.
“I look forward to it.”
Back at his sister’s side, Chase handed Alex her drink. “Who was that you were talking to?” she asked.
“Jack Morrison,” their mother answered for him.
Nick peered over the rim of his cocktail. “He has some swagger working for him. Is he single?”
Alex swatted Nick’s arm with her free hand. “You are not picking up dates at my dad’s funeral.”
Chase could always count on Nick for some comic relief.
“Not only is he not single, he mentioned a wife . . . so not on your team,” Chase clarified. “He seemed like a decent man.”
“Do you know him, Mom?” Alex asked.
“I don’t know Jack, but everyone in the hotel industry knows his father, Gaylord. I saw him at many dinners and events when I was married to your dad. Gaylord’s love for his children . . .” Her voice trailed off, her gaze traveled to the floor. “I’m sorry.”
Chase caught his sister’s eyes.
Alex placed a hand on their mom’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”
The “sorry” was a theme their mother used often. Sorry for every shortcoming their father had that she felt she needed to repent for.
“The man is dead,” Chase said, lifting the whiskey to his lips. “Stop apologizing for him.”
“If I had just been—”
“Mom.”
Vivian sealed her lips and nodded once. The subject was closed . . . at least for now.
CHAPTER TWO
Piper shoved her hand into the sleeve of a clean shirt she was folding, right as her phone rang.
The number displayed from the caller twisted in her gut like a knife.
She reached down, her arms still engulfed in the shirt, and silenced her phone. “Go away,” she said out loud.
With her shirt right-side out, she proceeded to fold it with short, angry movements. It was the middle of a workday. One that she shouldn’t be home folding laundry and worrying about how she was going to pay her upcoming rent.
Her phone rang again, only seconds from when she silenced it.
Piper snatched it off the side of the sofa, ready to silence it again.
Only this time, Julia’s name appeared.
Piper slid the answer button over, put the phone on speaker, and spoke without so much as a hello. “I told you not to call me from the office line.”
“I know,” her friend said in a voice that lifted a full octave above normal. “Sorry. I’m distracted.”
Piper looked at her pile of laundry and huffed. “Me too. I’m completely overwhelmed.”
“Turn on the news.”
“I don’t watch the—”
“Channel five. Hurry. They broke for a commercial but they’re coming back.”
Piper dropped her folded shirt on top of the pile and reached for the TV remote. “Is this about him?”
“The whole office is buzzing. Well, those of us that are here today.”
The TV flashed to life, and the local news station was selected. “Let me guess, he didn’t die of natural causes after all.”
“You think someone killed him?” Julia asked with a short laugh.
The tail end of a commercial suggesting the latest antidepressant could be a life changer for you greeted Piper as she changed the channel. “I think he pissed off plenty of people. I wouldn’t be surprised if foul play is determined.”
The afternoon news crew led in with a welcome and a smile.
“What am I looking for here?” Piper asked. “They’re covering his funeral.”
That wasn’t a surprise. “So.”
“The camera’s zeroed in on his kids.”
Piper sat on the arm of her sofa and turned up the volume on the TV. “You mean his adult children.”
“Still his kids.”
Considering Piper had worked with Stone Enterprises for seven years, the last five as the executive secretary to Aaron Stone, and never seen the man’s children, she was interested enough to watch the images on the screen.
The news anchor led into the story with a graphic of Stone’s image overlaying a picture of the hotel’s logo, along with the man’s birth date and death date boldly placed at the bottom of the screen.
“Are you watching?” Julia asked.
“Yeah.”
The news crew captured several people leaving the church where Aaron Stone’s funeral had taken place.
Melissa, the trophy wife, was hard to miss. Perfect hair, perfect dress, and flanked by people Piper had never seen. Behind her followed a tall man with dark, almost wavy short hair, stern jaw, and lifeless expression.
“Do you see him?”
“The guy behind Melissa?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the son?” Piper asked.
“Chase Stone.”
“He looks like an asshole.”
“Oh my God. He’s gorgeous. How can you say that?”
“If you like ’em tall, dark, and brooding.”
“He just lost his father,” Julia said.
Piper shrugged. If Ebenezer Scrooge had children, they wouldn’t have been upset with his passing. “Who is he hovering over?” Chase had his arm around a woman, similar in age, and an older woman close by. He held out a free hand, pushing away the media.
“The sister and the first wife.”
“Stone’s first wife?”
“Yeah.”
Piper tilted her head to the side. “She looks too normal to be married to Stone.”
“They were divorced a long time ago.”
“She’s lucky she got out.”
The news cut to the cemetery and scanned the faces of the guests before returning to the studio, where the anchor announced that the state of Stone Enterprises would be discussed on the evening edition of the news.
Piper turned off the TV, plunging the room into silence. “Everyone here is worried.”
“About?”
“Their jobs.”
“That’s ridiculous. That company is run by a hell of a lot more than one man.”
Julia lowered her voice. “Yeah, but we both know things haven’t been completely in the black for a while. There’re whispers about a takeover.”
Piper stood and grabbed a towel from her laundry basket. “He still owned sixty-three percent of the company. That isn’t exactly ripe for a hostile takeover.”
“That depends on who he left his shares to. If Melissa ends up with it, she’ll sell to the highest bidder and walk.”
“He didn’t love her enough to do that.”
Julia huffed. “You’re probably right.”
“I was his secretary, Julia. Trust me on this.” Considering the amount of flowers she sent to other women on his behalf . . . Piper knew the man wasn’t devoted to anyone but himself. “He could have given his shares to his kids. I heard today that the daughter, Alexandrea, works for Regent Hotels. She could sell her shares to them.”
Piper folded a towel and placed it to the side. “You’re jumping to conclusions and getting all worked up over nothing. That company needs to run, and the executive floor isn’t easily replaceable.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Julia repeated as if she was talking to herself. “I can’t afford to lose this job.”
Piper huffed.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I suck. How are you doing? How is the job search?”
Piper picked up a sock, looked at it, and threw it back in the basket. “Considering my boss fired me a week before he died, it isn’t like anyone can call him and get a reference.”
“I didn’t think about it like that.”
Piper had. The moment the news broke of Aaron Stone’s death, all the wheels in her head started to turn. She’d been terminated with two weeks’ pay and notice that her health benefits would expire at the end of the month. Piper had applied for unemployment after she stopped feeling sorry for herself and was told not to expect a check until her employer verified that she hadn’t quit or been let go because of misconduct. And even then, the earliest the check would arrive was four weeks. “I’ll be fine,” Piper told her friend.
“You have a savings, right?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I’m still pissed. It’s gonna take a while for that to wear off.”
“I wish I could do something,” Julia said. “If you don’t want me to call you about the gossip, I can stop.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll let you know if you exceed my morbid curiosity about what’s going on around there.” And sadly, she had a truckload of curiosity, especially once her jerk of a boss had kicked the bucket.
“Good. I miss our lunches.”
“I do, too. Tell everyone I said hi,” Piper said with a sigh. “I will.”
“And don’t call from the office phone.”
Julia laughed, promised she wouldn’t, and hung up. Piper ended the call and looked up at her celling. She did have a savings, but only what she’d managed over the last eight months since she’d paid back her student loans. She lived in a one-bedroom guest house behind her seventy-three-year-old landlord that needed her rent money to pay his own bills. Much as the man liked her, he couldn’t afford to float her if she didn’t find a new job soon.
A familiar noise at her back door prompted her to get off her sofa and abandon the laundry.
“Damn it, Kitty . . . how did you get outside?” she muttered as she walked to the back of her house.
