Playing House

by Laura Chapman

  While the crew packed up, Wilder lingered in the kitchen staying out of everyone’s way. He was staring out the garden at the flowers in full bloom wondering what kind Bailey liked best when Felix dropped a toolbox at Wilder’s feet.

  “Rough day, pookie?”

  Wilder gave tight-lipped grin. “Could you not be cute?”

  “Sorry. I can’t help being cute. I was born this way. Besides, my lady friend likes me for it.” He punched Wilder on the shoulder. “Trouble in paradise?”

  Wilder frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Bailey.” He nodded up the staircase. “Are things . . . working on that front? Or are you having some problems.”

  Wilder gave him a blank stare. “You want to sit around and talk about our feelings right now?”

  “If it gets your head out of your ass, it couldn’t hurt.”

  Felix always had a way with words. It was how he’d talked their parents into letting them drive to the Grand Canyon the summer before their senior year of high school.

  Wilder scratched the back of his neck. “When I’m with her, I can’t think about anything else. When I’m not . . .”

  “You still can’t think about anything else?”

  “Exactly. That’s not what this was supposed to be about.”

  “You were going for a more wham, bam, thank you kindly for the on-location romance, but that’s a wrap, ma’am approach?”

  Wilder snickered and glanced back up at the staircase. “I don’t know . . . there’s just something about the Meredith women. Isn’t there?”

  “You’re telling me. At least Bailey doesn’t date other guys. At first I kind of thought it was cool. A no strings type of girl who just wanted to hang and have fun. But . . .”

  “You got hooked.”

  “Line and sinker.” He pulled off his baseball cap and ran his hands over the flattened hair. “What’s a guy to do?”

  “I don’t know, man. I might be going out on a limb here, but have you thought about having a frank conversation with her and saying you’d like to stop seeing other people?”

  “It’s not that easy. I’m still afraid it might spook her, and she’ll panic.”

  “She’s a woman—and an intelligent one. You’re a man—maybe not a bright one—” Wilder was cut off by a quick elbow to the ribs. “Regardless, she’s not a cat and you’re not a vacuum cleaner. She’s not going to spook.”

  “That’s what you think, I—”

  “You’re never going to be happy if you keep going this way. She won’t like you if you start moping around all the time.” Just like Bailey wasn’t going to want Wilder hanging around when he was being so damn clingy.

  “I guess that’s solid advice.”

  If only Wilder could take it for himself. It wasn’t the same situation, though. When this season was over, Paige and Felix would at least be living in the same state. When it wrapped . . . He got a lump in his stomach thinking about that.

  Bailey’s footsteps echoed on the wood floors at the top of the stairs. He turned in time to watch her pause at the top step and lean against the newly installed railing. In her signature plaid shirt and jeans, she had his heart pounding. “Hey.”

  He swallowed hard. “Hey. You about ready to wrap up for the day?”

  “Almost.” She ran a hand lightly over the railing. “I wondered if you might be able to help me with a little . . . heavy lifting.”

  Heavy lifting. That was a new code word for “want to have a quickie up against the wall of a closet or on a freshly unrolled rug in the room we’re staging just as soon as everyone is gone?”

  “I’ll be right up.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned. “Better hurry, or we’ll lose our light.”

  “I can lend a hand, too, if you need one,” Felix offered, completely unaware of what was transpiring.

  “We’re good,” they said at the same time.

  Wilder turned to him and quickly added, “It’s all good.”

  “Meet me in the master?” she asked.

  “I’ll be right up.”

  Felix shook his head. “She doesn’t rest, does she? I’ve never seen someone work so hard or put so much into a project to make sure it turns out just right.” He slapped Wilder on the back and headed for the door. “That’s some girl you’ve got there.”

  He was right about that. Wilder waited only long enough to lock the door before he went upstairs to see what exactly his girl had in mind for tonight. He swore he’d be back on his A-game the next day.

  ***

  His affliction didn’t go away in the following days and weeks, but Wilder learned to live with it. Mostly, it involved him repeating “get your shit together” in his head—and occasionally to his reflection in the bathroom mirror—about a hundred times a day. There was also a fair amount of him pulling Bailey aside for a quick kiss or chat when they weren’t too swamped. Then there were the nights, when it was just the two of them. It made the waiting worth it.

  On this night, he had special plans for their drive home.

  “I want to show you something.”

  She stared out the window, like she was searching for a clue somewhere in the rolling Austin hills. “Are we getting a puppy?”

  “You think I’m taking you to pick out a puppy?”

  She folded her arms and glared. “Well, not now.”

  “Do you want one?”

  “A puppy? Of course. Who doesn’t want a puppy?”

  He shook his head. “Where would you keep a puppy?”

  “I’d bring it to work with me every day.”

  “How would you keep him from chewing up all the furniture?”

  “Training.” She continued to keep her expression stern, but her eyes danced with amusement. “I’d keep it on a leash. We’d go on lots of walks every day, and I promise I’ll feed it myself. I swear.”

  “Where would he sleep?”

  “In my bed.”

  “Then where would I sleep?”

  Her lip twitched. “On the floor.”

  “Bailey Honey, I think you have your priorities mixed up.”

  “Or maybe I have them just right.”

  He was glad she was in a playful mood. He hoped she kept it after he told her everything. Last night, while he lay awake listening to Virginia’s even breathing while she slept on the hide-a-bed, he realized he had to tell Bailey about Waverly. He should have told her months ago.

  He could tell she already suspected something was up. He usually managed to curtail her queries with “yeah, it’s crazy” or “that’s weird.” But she deserved to know the facts. Maybe he should tell her now, before they got where they were going, in case the news upset her. He’d rather have her happy—or at least open to happiness—when he showed her his surprise.

  He pulled over into an H-E-B parking lot and switched off the ignition. She turned to him, confusion written plainly across her face.

  She offered a nervous laugh. “Grocery shopping. Well, I have to say you pulled it off. I’m surprised.”

  He wanted to reach across the truck and kiss her smart mouth, but he resisted. Instead, he grasped her hand. Get your shit together. Tell her. He stared into her eyes, willing her to see the truth so he didn’t have to say it out loud. If anyone could read his thoughts, it would be her. They sat in silence, her watching him, waiting. Unfortunately, despite their connection, they hadn’t quite mastered telekinesis.

  “Bailey . . . I have to say something, but first you have to know how badly I’ve wanted to tell you this for some time. I just . . . couldn’t. Not yet. I’m not even sure I should tell you now, but . . . I have to. I can’t not say it anymore.”

  Her hand tensed in his. She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  He sucked in a breath, then spilled it all out. “Waverly is pregnant with Devon’s child, and everything is kind of up in the air.”

  Wow. It felt good to get that out. He almost smiled in relief, but the strange, almost quizzical expression on her face gave him pa
use. He’d give more than a penny for her thoughts right then.

  She spoke at last. “Waverly is pregnant.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the studio exec is the father.”

  “That’s right.” She was dancing around the question that was weighing on her mind. He could read that much.

  “Okay.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Are you going to pretend it’s yours? For the sake of the show? Or are they going to somehow try and keep it a secret?”

  There it was—the real issue. They were good questions. Ones he wanted answers for himself.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Anger flashed into her eyes, then left almost as quickly. “You don’t know if you’re going to pretend to be the father of another man’s child for the sake of your TV show?” She slipped her hand out of his. “I . . .”

  “What?”

  “I guess I can understand why you would. To keep Waverly and Devon happy. God knows she’s unstable, and the fate of the show rests in their hands.” She let out a breath. “But I can’t believe you would do that. You of all people understand . . .”

  “What?” he asked again, this time it was a plea. “What do I understand?”

  “You understand,” she said slowly, “how hard it is to keep living a lie. Even if your intentions are pure. And you understand what being a parent means.”

  She was right. Of course she was right. And in her eyes, he could finally read the rest of the story. The hurt. Her sympathetic pain for the yet-to-be-born child. A child whose life would be more complicated and confused than anyone’s should be.

  “I don’t want to do it. Not for the sake of the show.”

  “But you’d do it for Virginia?”

  He gave a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never been comfortable living half a lie. This would cross over into full-lie territory. With any luck, Devon will just pull the plug on the show, and we can fade back into the background where people will forget us. Except in reruns.”

  “Could you do that?” She searched his face. “Could you really give up this little television empire you’ve built?”

  “In a second.” He reached for her hand again. This time he held it against his chest. “I never wanted any of this. I sometimes resented it. Until . . .”

  “Until what?”

  “Until I met you.” He clutched her hand tighter. “I can’t really regret the show if it brought you and me here.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, and she leaned into his palm, closing her eyes.

  “That’s not how this was supposed to work out.” Her eyes popped open, but now they were drier. “This was only ever supposed to be a short-term thing.”

  His heartbeat quickened, panic sliced through him. No. That wasn’t what this was any more. They weren’t going to be able to walk away from each other. “If you’re game . . . I’d like to show you something still.”

  Her lips curved, but the humor didn’t quite light her eyes. “You mean the grocery store parking lot wasn’t it?”

  “No.”

  He wordlessly maneuvered the truck back onto the road. Just outside the city limits, he turned onto a gravel road. They passed through a dilapidated gate, where the name of a farm once stood and drove down the twisted road for another minute, stopping in front of an old farmhouse. The shutters and gutters were barely hanging on to the structure. The paint peeled in at least a thousand places. The sagging roof had holes in it. The house had seen better days, but he hoped there were still more ahead of it.

  He hoped Bailey would see that, too.

  She opened the truck door and hopped out. He followed as she walked toward the house, admiring the Texas terrain. This time when she turned to him, there was a real smile that lit up her whole face. “Is this your next project?”

  He nodded. “I think so. But this one isn’t for TV. It’s for keeping.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for her to say something else. When she didn’t, he cleared his throat. “Well, what do you think?”

  “It’s going to take a lot of work.” She softened the remark with a grin. “But I think you’re up for the task. It has good bones and a lot of charm. It could really be something.” She linked her arm with his. “The house fits the man.”

  “You think so?”

  Her head bobbed up and down, and excitement lit her eyes. “You couldn’t ask for a prettier piece of Texas either.”

  “That’s what I thought. So.” He slid his hand down her wrist to connect with hers. “I can handle the structural things and put in the work to make it shine. But I’m going to need someone with an eye for design. Willing to take a look and give me your thoughts?”

  “Are you looking for a way to cut corners on the budget by sweet-talking me into giving you free advice?”

  “Maybe.” He raised their linked fingers to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Truth is, I can’t think of anyone better qualified to boss me around.”

  She shakes her head, but her cheeks flush and her lips curve up. “How can I say no when you put it like that?”

  “That’s what I was counting on.” He tugged her forward gently. “Come on. I’ll show you the inside.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Even after helping complete more than a dozen home renovations in five months, Bailey was still left breathless each time she stepped back to view the finished product. There was something magical about seeing her designs come to life. It was like someone had stepped inside her head and created a real-life replica of her dreams.

  “I can’t believe how perfectly this came together.”

  There was something about the way a fresh coat of paint—and completely overhauling the previous floor plan by opening up walls—gave an old home new energy. The kitchen was one of the best she’d ever seen. The carpenter was bringing the sit-in breakfast nook and bench tomorrow, but then they’d be all done.

  This was their last reveal, aside from the project house. With the end in spitting distance, she was trying to savor every moment of joy in this one.

  Like the way a glint of candlelight caught in the chandelier, sending a thousand sparkles dancing on the dining table. There was the cool smoothness of the granite against her skin when she slid a hand across the counter. The way Wilder’s arm curved around her waist as he pulled her against his chest.

  It wasn’t just anyone who’d made her dream a reality. It was him. In more ways than she could say.

  And right now, her dream-maker was nuzzling behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She leaned back and nearly sighed when his bristly chin rested against the crown of her head.

  “We did good.”

  “Mmm.” She snuggled in deeper. “It’s our best work.”

  “You say that every time.”

  “I mean it every time.”

  He chuckled lightly, his warm breath tickling her ear. “I know you do, babe. It’s why each house you’ve touched has turned into a masterpiece.”

  Her stomach did a little somersault. “Well, we have a good crew.”

  “We do.”

  “And their boss—”

  “What about him?” Wilder rocked them gently from side to side. Like they were moving to a melody only he could hear. “Felix tells me he’s an overly demanding pain in the ass who should stick to filming bits for TV and leave the work to the true professionals.”

  She winced a little. Felix had been in rare form that morning. When Wilder had asked him to adjust the height on the chair rail in the great room, you would have thought he’d told him to tear out the cabinets and start from scratch. Wilder had let him throw his tantrum, then calmly told him to get it done.

  Later, he’d privately told her that Felix was experiencing some extra stress in his personal life. Which was weird because Paige hadn’t mentioned any drama on that front.

  “I wouldn’t call him a pain in the ass. He just expects perfection from everyone on his team, including himself. Besides,” she hug
ged his arms with hers, “careful what you say about him around me. I kind of like him.”

  “I hear he kind of likes you, too.”

  God, they were dumb. Months together, and they were still talking like high schoolers.

  “What happens next?”

  “Well . . .” He kissed the side of her neck. “I figure we finish up this house. Then we film the reveal and the one at the project house. Then, I have to spend a few days in New York to do some publicity, but you should come along. The network people want to meet you and Felix. We’ll have to stay in a hotel, because my apartment has tenants, but that could be fun.”

  A gust of excitement fluttered through her. “Seriously?”

  “The execs are impressed with what you guys have done. They’d like to meet the faces while we’re there filming our promos.”

  New York. She’d only been once when she’d gone to visit her dad. The same dad who still sent her unanswered texts and left messages on her phone once a week. She kept meaning to reply. It was the grown-up thing to do. Yet any time she tried to come up with a reply, she came up with nothing. Instead of being grown-up, she reverted back to that little girl who couldn’t quite understand why her dad hadn’t wanted her around. She shook off the sadness that wanted to resurface at the memory. No. She wasn’t going to be sad because of him for even a second.

  “Then maybe you and I should take a nice long vacation.” Wilder rested his chin against the side of her head. “We’ve worked hard enough this season. We’ve earned it. I have a timeshare down in Mexico. Or we can go to one of those islands in the South Pacific. Get a little sun, since we’ve missed most of our summer.”

  Her heart pounded, and it was suddenly a struggle to breathe.

  “You can come see my place in Toronto.” The one he’d bought just down the street from Waverly and their business. “Then we can come back here to work on the new house while we wait to find out if there’s another season. If there is, maybe you’d like to stay on with our crew. We’ve never had a design assistant as good as you. I, for one, would like to see what other schemes you have in that head of yours.” He squeezed her gently. “At least, that’s what I’d like to see happen. What about you?”