It Takes Two

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It Takes Two Page 14

by Jonathan Scott


  My cocky confidence even threw Jonathan off his game. No more playing the passive wingman for me. One night is still the stuff of legend in our guy-crew. We had all gone to a club to hang out and grab some drinks. I was standing with one of our friends when we noticed a striking brunette holding court nearby.

  “How has Jonathan not noticed her?” I asked a buddy. The brunette seemed exactly his type: Tall and cute, with what sounded like a friendly, outgoing personality.

  “Yeah,” our friend replied, “wouldn’t it be hilarious if he turned around and you were kissing her?”

  “I could,” I immediately responded. I was The Man, this sounded like a dare, and it would make Jonathan totally jealous. Of course I would do it.

  “No, you couldn’t,” goaded our friend.

  “I guarantee I can get a kiss from her in five minutes or less,” I announced as I made my way over to the unsuspecting brunette.

  Within moments we were talking and laughing like BFFs. Jonathan turned around just in time to see the kiss. His jaw dropped.*

  *I was warming up the conversation with her friends but had my eye on her from the moment I got there.

  Months had passed and you still hadn’t made a move . . . so I did!

  Jonathan was understandably worried once I got the hang of flirting. My gain was potentially his loss. Women were starting to pick up on my confidence and signal their interest.*

  *. . . and this is when you developed the idea that all women were giving you “Dreamy Eyes.”

  Save for one relationship that lasted around six months, though, I spent my 20s dating sporadically. I didn’t want to waste time going through the motions with someone I knew wasn’t “the one.” I was VERY focused on work, and didn’t have a lot of free time to begin with; I’d much rather spend it with the people closest to me or doing some activity I loved than on a dead-end date. Why shuffle my life around to fit in someone who wasn’t going to be in it long-term? I wasn’t unhappy or dissatisfied with my life at all, but I wondered if I was supposed to be. Had I grown accustomed to being single and so content with playing the field that I was at risk of locking myself into a lifetime of solitude? I found myself wanting a therapist’s feedback for the first time in my life. My acting coach, Matthew Harrison, was the one to plant that seed. His philosophy was that all good actors should regularly see a therapist because it can help you get in touch with your emotions, which in turn can help you with your craft, as well as in everyday life. The therapist I consulted offered reassurance when I wondered if I should be doing something different. Was my complacency normal?

  If the status quo* worked for me, she replied, then it was normal for me.

  *But I knew that you were still looking for that special somebody, you just had the bar set really high.

  My first date with Linda erased every question, doubt, or disappointment I’d ever had about finding love. The fact that my family fell instantly in love with her, too, was no surprise, but still icing on the cake. She could finish our sentences and even beat us to the punch lines of inside jokes from our childhood. “Who is this girl and how does she know every funny anecdote I’m about to tell?” Jonathan asked me. Linda’s sense of humor came with a zest for adventure and boundless energy that fed my own. The filming schedule of Property Brothers turned Jonathan and me into HGTV gypsies, moving from location to location every three to six months. What most people would likely see as a major obstacle to nurturing a relationship actually made Linda’s and mine more romantic. Linda was able to work on the road and came along as we hopscotched from Austin to Toronto to New York, Vancouver, and Vegas.

  Linda happily rolled with the communal living arrangement we usually had with Jonathan, his two dogs, assorted friends and family who might be visiting, plus our production team, crew members, and glam squad, who were constantly streaming through whatever house we’d rented for the duration of our stay. You never knew whether our great room was going to be taken over for an all-day photo shoot, an impromptu hot-yoga session with friends, or a noisy midnight marathon of Cards Against Humanity. Linda is the kind of multitasker who can pay equal attention to a complicated graphic she’s designing on her laptop and the video a crew member is insisting everyone stop to watch of a gajillion baby spiders scrambling off of a big spider being hit with a broom. (She was more alarmed by a glimpse of Jonathan in his gold lamé* short-shorts: “I can’t ever unsee that,” she lamented.)

  *Haters gonna hate!

  Wherever we are, Linda makes it her mission to find cool things to entertain us with and keep the adrenaline monkeys on our backs well-fed. Her spontaneity is contagious, and I’ve discovered that I can still work hard but actually have more fun doing so when I’m not as single-minded about it as I used to be. Like me, she’s game for just about any physical challenge. Her competitive streak makes me half-wonder if we should get DNA testing to make sure we weren’t closely related. We’ve taken trapeze lessons, played trampoline dodgeball, and completed firefighter and police fitness tests. (Always good to have a Plan B career-wise, LOL.) Sometimes I’ll surprise her with something like a romantic date night doing an American Ninja Warrior challenge.*

  *I think she may actually be a ninja.

  Even better, Linda also challenges me to take more risks emotionally, to check my tendencies to be analytical and regimented, and let go more often. She’s the type of person who’s always thinking of something special for people she cares about. I love finding funny little notes from her tucked in my suitcase, or watching her lost in concentration as she works on some amazing new artistic project. When we decided to have our big family Christmas in Maui last year, Linda made beautiful beach-themed stockings for everyone to hang.

  She even coaxed out the hidden romantic in “the Robot.” I found myself excited to find unique ways to surprise her—not easy when you’re in love with a wildly creative one-woman think tank. Food has been a recurring theme. We’re both gastronomes, though I’d have to say I’m definitely more the health nut.*

  *My philosophy is “If it tastes good, it must be good for you.”

  Coming from a family that loves games and puzzles, creating scavenger hunts is one of my favorite things to do for Linda. Jonathan is always willing to lend his computer-geek skills to design a website that unlocks clues, or I’ll just leave notes around the house for Linda to find while I’m away, leading her to a freezer full of every single flavor of Häagen-Dazs the store had in stock, or some other treat. I acknowledged her obsession with pizza by tracking down a pizza purse to give her.

  For her birthday, I had jewelry custom-made to commemorate our relationship: The bracelet was engraved with the geographical coordinates of our first date, while the matching prism necklace depicted cities that were meaningful to us on each side.*

  *You forgot to mention how you left the gift in an unmarked package in the overhead bin of an airplane and spent a week trying to get it back from Homeland Security. Sweet, sweet romance.

  At least they didn’t detonate it.

  Having Linda by my side at the beginning of the television career I had wanted since I was a kid made it that much more exciting as all the hard work and struggles finally paid off. She became the cornerstone of my lifestyle, and I saw the potential to put her talents to work within the entertainment empire Jonathan and I were building. It didn’t take long for us to bring her into the Scott Brothers fold as creative director.

  Work for us never had been structured around a traditional eight-hour day, and never will be. It’s just part of a lifestyle we’ve adapted to that intertwines work, play, and all the ordinary and extraordinary stuff in between in a way that makes the most sense on any given day.

  Both of us have had to make compromises to be a couple. I’ve had to give up locking myself away to spend endless hours emailing and working on my computer, and Linda likewise sacrifices time indulging in extend
ed benders of her favorite solo pastimes, like crafting, so that together we can enjoy a shared passion like Ping-Pong. She takes pleasure in a leisurely stroll, and I have to fight the urge to pick up the pace to get to the destination more efficiently. She’s taught me to slow down once in a while and enjoy the little things in life. When Jonathan and I renovated the Scott family dream home we share in Las Vegas, he got the master bedroom in exchange for the private patio off the smaller bedroom Linda and I took. We turned the small outdoor space into our own little Parisian courtyard with potted plants, cobblestones, and a bistro table with chairs. No Jonathan (or his pups) allowed. I never would have thought I could be so peaceful just sitting and doing nothing until I had Linda sitting beside me.

  As our sixth anniversary together approached, I called a restaurant several friends had raved about in Toronto and reserved a table for a special date night. Time alone is a luxury for us, and the sensual but whimsical vibe of Piano Piano spoke to us as much as the delicious Italian food. After we polished off our pasta and meatballs, Linda ordered carrot cake for dessert, knowing it’s my favorite.

  While we were waiting, the restaurant’s soundtrack began playing one of our fave songs, “Marry Me,” but Linda didn’t notice that it was my voice coming through the speakers instead of Train. I’d spent weeks setting up the surprise, going to the studio to record it, and conspiring with the restaurant to play it as they wheeled out not Linda’s dessert, but the custom one I had ordered: A beautiful, towering cake inspired by the cover of Linda’s most-beloved Dr. Seuss book, bearing my promise for our future together—Oh, The Places We’ll Go. The figurine atop the cake held a tiny balloon in one hand. A diamond solitaire engagement ring dangled from the other. Linda was still looking confused—“What? I ordered carrot cake!”—when I got down on one knee and, choking back tears of joy, asked her to be my wife.

  If I had to choose one day of my life to live on endless repeat, it would be December 13, 2016, when the most incredible woman in the world said yes.

  To me.

  My grand plans to record the moment were undone by technical issues when the lighting proved inadequate for the hidden cameras I’d had installed in the restaurant, and the microphones picked up the stilted first-date conversation at a neighboring table instead of my proposal. Maybe the universe was sending me a message about oversharing.*

  *THANK YOU! I don’t think “I do” needs to be immortalized with a selfie. Ha ha.

  The Robot, meanwhile, keeps yielding more and more to the romantic inside me. I’m the first to admit that the movie Love Actually makes me tear up. What gets me every time are the opening and closing scenes that create a collage of families and friends greeting each other at the airport. It reminds me of when I was a child and our whole family would get together to pick up relatives when they flew in. Holding welcome signs, flowers, and balloons. That pure, simple joy of coming together and belonging together.

  Maybe it’s because I’ve had way too much practice over the past twenty years, but we knew it would be quicker and easier for us to find and renovate our dream home than plan a wedding—though I’m not sure demo and drywalling fall under the duties bridesmaids are expected to perform. (Linda’s up to fourteen already, and knowing how hard it is to get trades these days, maybe we have the bachelorette party involve sledgehammers and pry bars. Free demo labor!)

  We quickly decided to buy our first house together in Los Angeles and began looking for a fixer-upper. There were about a thousand houses on the market that met our requirements and were in the neighborhoods where we were looking, but only ten were fixer-uppers that hadn’t been touched. Everything else had had some kind of work done, which, in typical L.A. fashion, gave them an inflated price, which was all the more frustrating because we, in typical Scott fashion, were itching to do it all ourselves and ensure it was done right.

  Linda and I toured all ten contenders in one day. When we stepped out of our car in front of a 1921 English Country–style house in Hancock Park, we both immediately had the same thought: This is the one. Aside from some 1960s shag carpet in the bedrooms, the house still maintained its original features and character, giving it a period feel we were eager to preserve. Linda even wants to keep the original wallpaper in most of the bedrooms, plus the French poodle print adorning a powder room. My mom instantly recognized the pattern of dogs preening in front of vanity mirrors as the same wallpaper she had in her childhood home growing up in Toronto. No way were we keeping these self-absorbed poodles on the walls, but as I expected, the gears in Linda’s head were already turning as she worked out some creative ways to repurpose them.

  I’m excited because this is our first home together, and Linda and I are actually doing the design ourselves.* Linda and I both love the idea of revitalizing the character and history of the home. We want every space to have conversation pieces, features that express our personalities. I’ve always fantasized about having a formal, Old World–style library, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with first editions of the classics I enjoyed as a child and other beautiful volumes. Linda’s ultimate high would be an inspiring space to let her artistic side run wild.

  *Ahem!!

  OK . . . maybe with a little help from Jonathan.

  It wasn’t long after purchasing our new home and discovering how unique it was that we agreed it HAD to be filmed as a special. It was too amazing and too perfect a property to pass up capturing its transformation to share with our fans. But this place represents more than just a roof over our heads. This will be the house we live in when we get married; the first big stop in all the places we’ll go. We want these walls to echo with the laughter and love of all the friends and family we hope will come visit.

  And you can bet we’ll be right there to meet them with signs at the airport.

  Linda

  After seven years of working and staying together, I’d say we’ve become pros at mixing business with pleasure. We take tremendous pride in our work and are grateful that together we can build something greater than ourselves. I’m incredibly lucky that we’re on the same page . . . most of the time. Here are a few scenes from our day-to-day that show how the lines of our love life and work life are blurred—but that’s okay because we don’t color within the lines anyway. :)

  Face Time

  When we finally tuck into bed, the room temperature is set at a mutual 68 degrees (Drew loves the feel of cool, crisp sheets while I could sleep in a sauna). Drew is half on top of the sheets while I’ve rolled myself into a burrito. The sounds of Leon Bridges and Santo & Johnny softly play and we’re both finishing up some work on our phones when . . . SMACK!

  Drew dozes off and drops his phone. On his face!

  After laughing at him (for a good minute), I plug his phone in, switch off the lights, and pass out myself.

  Some nights we talk for hours in bed, while others we stay up late working. For us, being flexible works best when it comes to making sure we get quality face time. We tried the “no phones or laptops in bed” rule, and it lasted for all of three days—if even. Besides, how are we supposed to watch The Walking Dead or Westworld?!

  Home Is Wherever I’m With You

  We’re on a beach somewhere. Lounging with our feet tangled together. The sun makes its way through tiny openings of a thatch umbrella. We hear the ocean waves, background chatter . . . and the almost therapeutic tapping on our keyboards. An hour passes without a word to each other when Drew decides it would be a gut-busting, brilliant idea to pour ice-cold water down my back. I let out a shriek that spills into laughter in the same breath.

  Being on the road constantly has made us experts in turning wherever we are into our “homes” and “offices.” In every new city, Drew and I take turns finding locations to set up shop. Whether it’s a Ping-Pong bar or a restaurant with a bowling alley, a change of scenery reminds us that there’s a world of beauty, humor, and inspiration around us, so
LOOK UP! And yes, we actually enjoy working a little while on vacation. With toes in sand and blue skies as our backdrop, our heads are a little clearer to focus on passion projects and our big picture together.

  Ain’t No Mountain (Or Wall) High Enough

  It’s 6 o’clock, and we’re in the car, heading to destination unknown! The only hints Drew gave me were to wear gym clothes and bring my A-game. We toggle between conversations about family, brainstorming new ideas on how to save the world, and belting out tunes. We’re singing along to Marvin and Tammi when we pull up to a monolith of a building.

  When we enter, my jaw drops—and IF I could do a celebratory backflip, I would! We spend the next four hours playing and training with an America Ninja Warrior! COOLEST DATE NIGHT EVER!

  Drew is oftentimes more of an antic than a Romeo. So when it comes to “romantic” getaways or dates, ours are far from typical. But that’s just the way we like it. Whether it’s an escape room, an obstacle course gym, a pottery or cooking class, a flying trapeze, dancing, or an improv workshop, we take the time to do things the other person is crazy about because we’re crazy about each other.

  The alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. in a Los Angeles hotel room, coaxing me awake to quiet sounds of nature. Talk about false advertising! Thanks to the spreadsheet emailed by our full-time scheduler, I already know the week ahead is going be a far cry from any walk in the woods for Drew and me. A cry in the woods, maybe, since we won’t be seeing a bed again until after 10 p.m.—tomorrow. I hit the snooze button, which prompts nature to nudge me a little less gently with the second alarm. The sweet warbling of songbirds could shift into the “dive o’ death” scream of raptors—but there’s still no way I am giving up that extra five minutes.

 

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