Wilder and Waverly sat shoulder-to-shoulder. Waverly, dressed in a fitted blazer and chunky jewelry, looked as fabulous as ever. Wilder wore a dress shirt and jacket but had skipped the tie. He looked laid-back and casual, and if possible, even more handsome than she remembered. Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed tired—just around the eyes. Across from them a network reporter—whose face she recognized, but not her name—welcomed them to the show and thanked them for their time. On the bottom of the screen, in big bold letters, ran the words “BUILDING A HOUSE OF LIES? TV Duo Admits Relationship Was Fraud.”
The reporter leaned forward. “Now, you both have admitted that throughout the run of your show Playing House—which airs on our sister network—you weren’t in fact married, but you were faking it?”
“I wouldn’t say we were faking it,” Waverly said. “That would mean we lied. We never said we were married. We really do have a business fixing up houses together. We have a daughter. But . . . we did imply that we were still a couple, even though we haven’t been romantically involved in more than five years.”
Bailey couldn’t believe it. They’d actually done it. They’d gone public with the truth.
“So why clarify the issue now?
Wilder and Waverly exchanged a glance and she shrugged. “The short answer, we’ve decided to finish our series and our business relationship. It’s been a fantastic experience, but we’d like to . . . pursue other projects.”
They were really quitting the show. That must mean they’d come to some sort of arrangement. Just like Wilder had promised they would. She hadn’t believed it was possible.
“What kind of projects?”
“Well . . . on a professional level, we each have so much we’d like to do beyond this show. We’ve had a good run. We’d like to go out while we’re still on top. And . . .” she waited for Wilder’s nod, “on a personal level, we’ve each found people we want to be with. It wasn’t fair to ask either of them to perpetuate a myth for our show.”
“Are you referring to the father of your child? Are you ready to reveal who he is?”
“I’m not actually. I’m sure it may seem hypocritical, but there are some things I’d like to keep private for now.”
“Are you sure you can’t be persuaded?”
Waverly shook her head. “For once, I’m not saying anything.”
“And you, Wilder,” the reporter turned her mega-watt smile to him. “What can you tell us about your mystery woman?”
“Nothing.”
The reporter raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”
“We’re not exactly speaking at the moment.”
“Interesting.”
“But if she’s watching, and I hope she is, I have plenty I want to tell her.” He broke the number one rule of filming then and stared straight into the camera. “Honey, I’d really appreciate a few minutes of your time. When you’re ready.”
“Are you in love with her?”
He hesitated a moment, swallowed hard while he seemed to consider whether or not to answer. An elbow from Waverly seemed to decide that. “I am.”
“And does she love you?”
“I hope so. But I’m willing to lay it all out there on the chance she does. Because that’s what love is about.” He stared into the camera again. “Love is about faith and taking chances. Even if it knocks the crap out of you.”
He was right. Of course he was. Only she’d been too stubborn—too scared—to take that leap of faith for him. But that would change now. Just as soon as she got through this line, she was going to call Wilder. She’d have to leave him a message, but she’d make sure he knew she loved him, too, and that she was sorry for bailing. Oh, God. She felt almost light-headed but relieved at the same time. She loved him, and he still loved her.
Bailey’s ears were ringing when she was pushed forward to the customs agent. Craning her neck, she tried to see the TV even while she handed over her passport. Funny, but she thought she heard her name. She faced forward, giving the agent a tight-lipped grin. She was about to apologize when she heard it again. She turned toward the voice, and then she saw him. But . . . she blinked, glanced back at the TV, then forward again. What in the . . .
“Bailey!” Wilder rushed forward standing just on the other side of the customs barricade.
“Wilder.” His name came out in a breath. She took a tentative step forward, but the guard held her back another minute to finish the process. When she was finally given the go-ahead, she rushed to him. Dropping her bags, she wrapped her arms around him as he lifted her into the air. “You’re here.”
“I finally managed to sweet-talk your mama and sister into telling me your whereabouts.” He squeezed her closer, his cheek rubbing against her hair. “They said I should meet you at the airport in Austin. I know I said I’d wait until you were ready, but hell. I had to see you.”
“How can you be here?”
He pulled back to look her squarely in the eyes even as he shakily cupped her cheek. “Because, Bailey Meredith, I love you too much to let another second of my life go by without telling you.”
Her heart did a flip, even as his words warmed her. “No.” She squeezed him around his waist. “I meant how can you be here—in an airport—when you’re in the middle of a major TV interview?”
“Oh.” Chuckling lightly, he planted a kiss on her forehead, then one to her nose. “That’s the magic of TV, honey. You can film an interview one day and run off to the airport to make what’s supposed to be a grand romantic gesture the next.”
“This is pretty romantic.” Then suddenly remembering what he’d said on TV, she rushed out, “So y’all really did it? You ended the show and came clean?”
“I’m done with Playing House, and I’m done with pretending to be anything but crazy about you.”
His words set her heart pounding again. “Well, that’s a funny coincidence . . . because I’m done getting in my own way when it comes to being with you.”
His eyebrows flew up. “Is that a fact?”
“It won’t be easy,” she said soberly. “I’ve spent a lot of years resisting the charms of men like you. But . . .” She kissed his chin. “The difference is none of those men were you. And I love you.”
“You love me?”
She nodded. “That’s just one of many things we’ll both have to talk about. It might take a while, but I expect we have a good fifty or sixty years ahead of us before we get tired of each other.”
“I’ve always liked your plans.”
“And I’ve always liked—” Bailey’s teasing remark was cut off by his mouth firmly taking possession of hers. One hand pulled her closer while the other cupped the back of her neck, deepening the kiss.
She’d been perfectly serious when she said they had a lot to talk about. He was going to have to fill her in on everything that had gone on with the show and Waverly and Virginia. They’d have to figure out what they were going to do once they were back in Austin—at least she assumed that’s where they were headed. She probably owed him a more in-depth explanation of where she’d gone and why.
But they had time. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that she loved him and he loved her. Everything else could wait.
Epilogue
One Year Later
From a safe distance, Wilder watched the exchange. He was close enough he could hear every word and see every movement without missing a beat. He was also far enough away he could laugh without catching hell from either party.
“I heard you the first time.” Bailey folded her arms and widened her stance into a fierce warrior pose. “My answer is still no.”
“Come on,” Felix insisted. “We have to do it.”
“I said no.”
“But how are you supposed to create an authentic, good old-fashioned Texas Christmas without a real Christmas tree?”
“We use a fake one.”
“That’s just messed up.”
“What’s wrong with using
a fake tree? It’s August and a million degrees outside.”
“If you’re worried about the heat, I can assure you my crew and I are more than capable of surviving. This isn’t our first Texas summer, little lady.”
“And where will you find this genuine Christmas tree off-season?”
“We’ll trek out into the woods.”
She gasped in outrage. “You want me to let you loose in what’s probably a national—or at least state—forest to murder a tree that’s going on a set for two days at best?” She threw her hands up in the air. “You’re insane. I’m the designer here. You’re the muscle.”
“The muscle?” Now Felix looked ready to spit fire. “Well, if you’re the designer, then shouldn’t you know better than to try and shove fake Christmas down people’s throats?”
“This is a fake Christmas.”
“But the people reading that fancy magazine won’t know when they see the photos in December.”
“The answer is still no. We’re using the artificial fir.”
“You’re like the frickin’ Grinch.”
“And you’re being a baby and messing with my designs. Besides . . .” She glared up at him. “I like artificial trees.”
Felix looked like she’d just asked him to use his best hammer to open a pickle jar. For his part, Wilder could only snicker. They’d been at each other’s throats most of the morning. He couldn’t blame them for being on edge. They only had a couple of hours to finish up their work before the photographer arrived. They’d been busy since the three of them had opened a home renovation business together in the heart of Austin. After Bailey’s website—Home Making with Bailey—had launched, their demand had grown even more. So much that one of the premiere interior design magazines wanted to do a multi-page spread on their company for the holiday issue.
It would be huge for them when it ran, but at the moment, it was a pain in their collective asses. There’d probably be more yelling and hurt feelings before the day was over. And Wilder couldn’t be happier.
When he and Waverly had walked away from Playing House, there’d been more than a few moments when he wondered if they’d come out the other side all right. The public outcry hadn’t been pretty. Though they’d spoken truthfully and from the heart, plenty of people considered them regular con artists.
Fortunately, another scandal broke out in the televised home improvement world. Another duo on a rival network had swindled viewers out of millions of dollars through their Ponzi-style real estate classes. That had made their story seem tame when compared to a criminal case.
After the scandal quieted down, Devon found Waverly a job at DN. She was doing some sort of development work, creating shows and hiring the crews to make them. Despite their pattern of fighting and making up followed by more fighting and more making up, they’d decided they couldn’t live without each other. They’d tied the knot in an intimate wedding on Hilton Head Island as soon as the ink was dry on his divorce papers. A few months later, they’d welcomed their son into the world.
Co-parenting Virginia hadn’t been without its quirks, but they were figuring it out. At the end of the day, she had two pairs of parents who loved her dearly and wanted what was best.
Through all of it, Bailey had stuck with him. There were times she still worried everything was changing too quickly, but Wilder was always there to remind her they were in it together. After her mama and Roger, then Paige and Felix, announced their respective engagements, she’d seemed to settle down even more. She’d even taken to answering her father’s calls and responding to his texts. They’d met him for dinner a couple of times, too, when they’d taken Virginia to New York City for one of her visits. There were still hurt and hard feelings. They might never be close, but at least they had something more than nothing.
So when Wilder had asked her to marry him one year to the day after they’d met at an old Victorian house, she’d said yes. They were planning a wedding at their farmhouse this fall, then they’d take a belated honeymoon over the holidays.
Sometimes, a guy was luckier and happier than he deserved to be.
Glancing up from untangling the lights she wanted for the fake tree, Wilder watched Bailey finish her battle with Felix—for the moment—and saunter toward him. Slipping an arm over his shoulder, she watched his progress. “What’s this I hear about Waverly bringing Renee in for a meeting this weekend?”
He winced. He’d hoped to break that news to her first. “I think they have a pitch for us. Either they want to do a wedding special or worse.”
“What could be worse?”
“A full series order.”
“Mmm.” She let out a sigh, but a smile played at her lips. “That would explain why Renee called to ask if I’ve changed my opinion on home improvement TV.”
“Have you?”
She shrugged. “It isn’t all bad.
“It got us here.”
Because really, in the end, while his time on Playing House hadn’t been a picnic, it was how they’d found each other. And someday, when Virginia was older and they had their own children and grandchildren, there’d be a full season of episodes to show how they’d fallen in love. (Their descendants would also be able to see that they’d always been silly.)
“Speaking of getting us here . . .” She glanced around at the chaos surrounding them. “Are you nervous about this photoshoot?”
“Should I be?”
“Oh . . . I don’t know. The photographer could suggest we dress you up in a Santa suit.” She wiggled her eyebrow. “Maybe you’ll make your grand entrance through the chimney. The fireplace we built for the shoot isn’t real. We could drop you down it pretty easily.”
“Santa, hmm?” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Would you care to sit on his lap? Tell me if you’ve been a good little girl or a bad one?”
Her face flushed bright pink. “Sometimes, you’re so . . . gross.”
“You love it.”
“I do,” she agreed, leaning over to kiss him. “And I love you.”
At the end of the day, that was really all that mattered. No matter what kind of schemes people might be hatching for him, no matter what happened on the next job, it would all be okay. He was building a life with the woman he loved, and you couldn’t beat that.
Author’s Note
Thank you for taking the time to read Playing House. I hope you had as much fun hanging out behind the scenes with Wilder and Bailey as I did. If you would please take a moment to leave a brief review of your thoughts on the story, I would greatly appreciate it. Reviews help other readers know what they might expect from a story.
If you’d like to keep in touch, please subscribe to my monthly newsletter at http://eepurl.com/bddSyb.
Until next time, happy reading!
Books by Laura Chapman
The Marrying Type
First & Goal
Going for Two
Three & Out
Making Christmas
Playing House
What Happens at Midnight
Rigged
Acknowledgements
There are so many people who helped make this possible. I send my deepest and warmest gratitude to all of you, but particular thanks to:
Sarah Chapman and Whitney Lake, who are my constant thought partners and supporters before, during, and after every draft. None of this would be possible without you. Plus, you’re two of the best friends a woman could have.
Liberty Kontranowski, Cat Lavoie, and Kaley Stewart, for providing thoughtful—and helpful—critiques and friendship.
Chrissy Wolfe of EFC Services, LLC for providing the copyediting and proofreading, and making my story—and me—better.
Katie Nieland, the cover designer, who worked tirelessly to bring this to fruition.
The Lincoln National Novel Writing Month regulars for being my cheerleaders and companions while I wrote this.
The Romance Authors of the Heartland RWA chapter for inspiring me.
> My parents, siblings, extended family, and friends for keeping me going. Also, to my cats.
And to you, readers, for making this journey worth it.
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Did you love Playing House? Then you should read The Marrying Type by Laura Chapman!
Always the wedding planner, never a bride, Elliot Lynch is famous for orchestrating the splashiest weddings in Charleston, South Carolina. When her father’s sloppy management practices leave them on the brink of bankruptcy, Elliot will do whatever it takes to save the family business. When asked to appear on “The Marrying Type,” a reality TV show about the people behind the scenes as couples exchange I dos, she says yes to the invasion of privacy (and the hefty paycheck that comes with it).
With a camera crew capturing every detail of her life, Elliot faces her most challenging contract yet: planning a wedding where her ex is involved in every part of the process. Add in a lazy assistant, liquor-loving bridesmaid, and rival planner encroaching on her turf, and Elliot’s wedding season goes from high-end to high-stress.
Forced to confront her past, Elliot must live out her troubled present on national TV if she has any hope of saving her future.
Read more at Laura Chapman’s site.
About the Author
Laura Chapman is the author of First & Goal, Going for Two, Three & Out, The Marrying Type, Making Christmas, and What Happens at Midnight. A native Nebraskan, she loves Huskers and Packers football, Netflix marathons, and her cats, Jane and Bingley. Laura is currently in pursuit of a fantasy football championship while penning her next novel. Be sure to connect with her online!
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