Hollywood Ever After (24 page)

“I stayed in LA for a week, working out the arrangements for the next few films.” He looked at me, his eyes traveling over my face before he continued.

“Which did you decide on?”

“The World War II piece is a go, as you know. The working title is
Love or Honor
.” He shrugged. “We start filming once I finish
End
, Shannon’s film. Then it looks like the Van Gogh picture will follow.”

I smiled. “Really?”

He nodded. “I suppose the big openings haven’t hurt.” He squeezed my hand. “So it’s tentatively lined up to shoot early next year.”

“Congratulations!” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Happy?”

“Very…now.”

My heart kicked up at the possible double meaning to his comment. Was he very happy because his pet film project was going to be made or because I was here? I didn’t linger over the question for long. Instead I teased, “See, the whole ‘hottie’ thing didn’t hurt.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed, grudgingly. “You are wicked.” But his smile didn’t budge.

“Is that a complaint?” I teased.

“Not at all.” His eyes held mine. His voice was soft as he said, “I’m glad we’re getting this time together.”

I tried to sound calm, but my voice wavered as I said, “Me too.”

He stared for a minute, his thumb running over the back of my hand. “What about you? What did you do in Texas?”

I pulled my legs up, twisting towards him in my seat. “Well, mostly mom stuff really. There’s the regular school pick-up and drop-off, laundry, dishes, shopping, Little League, piano, viola, and gymnastics, homework, and birthday parties. Maybe a little sleep. The boring everyday stuff.”

“It’s not boring if it’s part of your life.”

“I guess I should enjoy the boring for now. I have a feeling things are going to change, with the book and the move. Mom is a terrific help. I don’t know how I’d manage everything without her.”

“Has Marty always lived close?”

“No, Dad passed away a couple of years ago and she moved closer. Since she’d retired and didn’t have Dad, I think being with us has helped her not feel so alone.” Then I added, “I guess I hope that’s the case. Sometimes I feel like I take terrible advantage of her. I don’t want her to live her life around me and the kids, you know? But my brothers…”

“Brothers?” He was surprised. “I didn’t know there was more than one.”

“Joe is in San Francisco. He’s finishing up some research grant through Cal-Tech. He’s a genius, but he tends to get bored easily so he moves. A lot.”

He nodded. “He’s the one that sent you to Shannon’s for your birthday? I have to thank him.”

“I need to send him a thank you, too.”

He smiled at me.

“Benjamin’s the baby. He’s in Afghanistan; he’s a Marine. He sends notes every once in a while, but we don’t know where he is exactly. The kids write to him once a week. A letter from his niece and nephew is all he wants, so we make sure we do it.”

“That must be difficult.” He sounded thoughtful.

“Whenever Will says he wants to join the Army, I admit to suggesting other, less dangerous options. You know, mailman or dog walker or…” I laughed.

“Professional soccer player,” he finished. “He has an amazing left foot. Someone lobbed a soccer ball our way at the park and he kicked it back, dead on. He’s quick, too.”

“He gets that from his father. Daniel’s an incredible athlete.”

Josh paused before asking, “Does it bother you? Having to give him credit for part of the children?”

I shook my head. “He’s their dad. I know that they are the very best of him.”

He regarded me, murmuring, “You have a big heart. I confess I’d like to hurt him, severely, for hurting you.”

I looked at him. “I wanted to, in the beginning. But that would hurt the kids, which I would never do, not knowingly. I guess that’s why I’m still a bit worried about the book—for the kids’ sake.”

“You don’t portray him as a monster, the way I see him. It did happen, he did hurt you.” His voice grew thick and he took a deep breath. “How long has it been since you read it?” He turned curious eyes on me.

“I’m not sure I ever did. I wrote it then locked it up. It was a mental cleanse for me.”

“You should. It might make you feel more at ease.” His voice was gentle.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you find ‘mental’ attractive then.”

He laughed, his voice husky as he said, “That doesn’t accurately describe the way I feel about you.”

I shook my head. “Which is still a mystery to me. One of many mysteries surrounding you, Mr. Wiley.”

“I don’t want to be a mystery, not to you. Ask me anything.” He smiled at me, his eyes warm.

“Okay.” I paused, thinking of a question. “What did you want to be before you found acting?”

His brow furrowed as he thought about my question. “A musician. I enjoy writing and making music.” He turned onto a narrow road, unaffected by the lack of streetlights. “Acting seemed like a natural complement, and I do enjoy it, sometimes. But if I were given the opportunity to pursue music, that might take precedent.”

“How did you start acting?”

“A theater class. My first role, I was an understudy. The lead came down with chicken pox and suddenly I was Hamlet. Somehow I managed to be in every production following. Here, in Stratford, I filled in with the Royal Shakespeare Company a bit. One production went to New York, and I went too.”

“I couldn’t do it, put myself out there. It’s terrifying to me.”

“But it’s not to me. Living in someone else’s skin, however briefly, can be fascinating. Acting is an opportunity to investigate human nature, studying other people’s motives, reactions, and ideals. Finding
those
stories makes it rewarding for me.” He slowed the car, turning onto a bumpy road.

I watched him as he spoke. I considered his words, his perspective on the craft of acting. I’d never thought of it like that, not really.

When I finally tore my eyes off him, it was dark. Only a dim outline of London’s skyline was still visible. He continued down a curvy lane until we came to a large house. “My father said he’d call ahead. The neighbor will have turned on the power and put some essentials in the icebox. So there will be hot water and lights and something meager for breakfast.” He smiled at me.

“Hot water sounds good. Food holds little interest right now.” I smiled at him. “I think lights are optional.”

“No, seeing is a requirement.” His eyes flashed, his hand soft against my neck. “Come on…”

Chapter Twelve

We climbed out of the car and made our way to the door. I tripped once but he caught me, laughing softly.

“I’m not even wearing heels this time.”

“I like catching you.” He left his arm around my waist as we moved toward the soft glow of the porch light. There were no other lights nearby, just a dim orange haze on the horizon. “That lovely orange glow is London,” Josh murmured as he watched me peering about in the dark.

“It’s really dark.” I stood beside him on the porch. “Scary movie dark,” I added softly, looking up into the night sky. “But the stars are amazing.”

“It is. I used to sleep with a nightlight here, when I was young.” He nodded, smiling. “The village is on the other side of the hill, not two miles from here. But it gets black as pitch at night.” He opened the door, the warmth and light spilling out onto the yard before we went inside.

“This is a little more than a cottage,” I said as I stared about the entryway.

“It’s small, really. Mum helped it grow, adding a room here and there. But it’s still a cottage.” He shrugged, smiling down at me.

I peered around with interest at the whitewashed walls and weathered wooden floors. A hall tree and boot rack lined one wall of the entry hall, a staircase on the other. There were two doors off the wide entry hall leading into the study, the living room, and another opening onto the hall leading to the kitchen. The smell of wood polish and aged leather scented the air.

Josh showed me each room, pulling off white cover sheets as he went. “Sitting room here, and that’s the family room, with the piano.” Both rooms were large and bright, sparse in decorations, but abundant in seating.

The kitchen was wonderfully cozy, very obviously the heart of the house. Several chipped blue and white earthenware bowls and canisters sat on the counter for decoration. A huge wooden kitchen table occupied most of the room, surrounded by mismatched chairs. Two large windows covered the rear wall, each made up of numerous diamond-shaped glass panes.

“What’s the view like?” I asked him, aware that he was watching my reaction.

“Green. There’s a small pond, too.” He pulled me along as he spoke. “There’s a washroom here.” He showed me the bathroom at the back of the kitchen, leading onto a small room with more hooks and a washer and dryer. “Mud room.” He led me back into the foyer and up the stairs. “Three tiny bedrooms up, the original washroom, and another one Mum added in the master suite downstairs.”

“It seems awfully large for a
cottage
.”

He shrugged and pulled me up the stairs behind him. We peeked into each room, all compact-sized white rooms with two single beds, one dresser, a closet and large window seats with storage cabinets, leaving very little room to move about.

He led me back downstairs and to the far end of the hall. “And this one would be yours. Or your mom’s.”

The last room was larger. There was a huge four-poster bed, large dresser, chaise, roll top writing desk and rocking chair. A wide wooden door opened into a full bath and a cavernous closet.

“It’s a wonderful house.” It was. I felt unexpectedly comfortable here.

“You’re welcome to it, for as long as you want or need a place to stay. I know it’s a bit tight for all of you.” His hand squeezed mine. “Some of the very best memories of my childhood happened here. It’s nice to think of Will hunting dragons in the garden. Admittedly, Natalie might need some updates. I doubt there’s Internet.” He shook his head. “But I’m certain that we could have that arranged, if you decide to stay.”

“Thank you.” I ran my hand along the quilt covering the bed. It was a fantastic house, a place to call home. But I’d never be able to think of it as home without him being a part of it too. And that was a step we weren’t ready for.

Were we? I swallowed against the hope and longing that gripped me.

I smiled, turning suspiciously moist eyes away from him. “It’s a very kind offer…”

“I’ll be useless if you cry, Claire.” He pulled me into his arms as he spoke, his voice more pleading than stern. He rubbed his hands up and down my back, breathing against my hair. I felt myself relaxing, wrapping my arms around him. He spoke softly. “Shannon told me she’d offered you her house. It would be a better fit for you, I suppose.”

I nodded against his chest. “I can’t afford it. Not really. But you’re right. It’s a great house.” I paused, then added, “You should buy it. That makes more sense. As your stateside command central or something.”

“I’d rather you were there. I’m sure Shannon would let you live there without rent until you were able.”

I looked up at him, smiling. “I don’t feel comfortable living off someone’s charity.”

His hand pushed the hair from my shoulders, his brow furrowing. “Is that a nice way of saying you’re not going to take my father’s offer either?”

“I can’t rely so heavily on others. I can’t be needy anymore. I need to take care of us on my own.”

His smile was half-hearted, subdued. “It’s a very human quality, to be needed—to have needs.” His hand was soft against my cheek, his thumb tracing a warm, tingling path over my jaw line.

“Feeling needy has been a sign of weakness for so long.” I shook my head, knowing that wasn’t quite right. “I can’t feel that vulnerable.”

“It is part of life, though, part of relationships. Isn’t it?” He was considering his words very carefully. “You need your family, for example.”

I nodded.

“No one else?” His eyes closed for a minute and he paused. “Give me a minute.” I watched him as he contemplated what he wanted to say. “I haven’t stopped looking for you since the moment I met you. The first time you laughed at me on that bloody red carpet, your brilliant blue eyes peeking at me over your hand…I was done for.” His face softened as he looked at me, his voice tender. “I cannot think of my life, of what comes next, without you being a part of it. I need you.” He was so sincere.

“It’s happening so fast,” I murmured, but I knew what he meant. How many times since that first night in LA had I stopped myself from lingering on him?

“And everything has changed. If I were to buy Shannon’s house it would be our place to stay when we are in LA. The house we viewed today would be ours when we’re here. The cottage is lovely for getaways, though I can’t imagine living here day-in and day-out, really. I want to be with you. And, if you’ll let me, be a part of Natalie and Will’s life, too. I want to be part of your life, your family. Part of you.”

I’d stopped breathing, my eyes wide as I let his words sink in. “How can you be so sure?”

“There’s nothing to doubt.” In his eyes, I saw the absolute truth of his words, the absolute promise he was giving me. He held me in his arms loosely, and I leaned my head against him, overwhelmed.

I knew I was losing my internal argument, but I had to convince him that he was wrong, show him that this didn’t make any sense, not really. “I’m seven years older than you,” I whispered against him.

“Yes.” He continued to hold me.

“We don’t know very much about each other.”

“We’ll learn.” His hands moved up and down my back.

“I’m an average cook. Okay, barely average,” I murmured.

He laughed softly. “I can’t cook at all. Good thing your mum’s about.”

I laughed a little, my breath hitching. “She is. And she’ll stay, because she’s family.”

“I know.” He pulled back, waiting for my next argument.

My voice was a whisper. “I can’t give you children.”

His brow was deeply furrowed now. “You already have.” His voice was soft.