Hollywood Ever After (34 page)

In time, we settled into a relatively normal routine. The kids were not home-schooled, but attended a nearby private school. How we evaded the school’s ridiculously long waiting list was a mystery…but I suspected Shannon was somehow involved.

I loved that the kids had somewhat normal social circles and new friends. And it was important to me that Mom had her retirement time. Everyone was happy.

Josh was teaching Will the guitar, while Natalie was trying to teach Josh chess. In addition to the regularly scheduled viola, piano, swimming, tennis, and soccer for the kids and Tai-Chi and pottery for Mom, I had started to do things for me, too. Josh had presented me with an easel, paints, and a large blank canvas.

“Paint something we can hang over the mantel,” he’d told me. I’d been stunned by the amount of goodies he’d acquired for my artistic exploration.

I’d sketched and painted until my fingers hurt. He was sweetly awed by the results. The finished project was a moonlit sky reflected on a blue-black ocean. It had come effortlessly, and I’d loved creating it. It lived over my bed, as it represented memories I wanted to keep for me and Josh. My work in progress, a much brighter piece, would take its place over the mantel.

When I wasn’t painting, I was writing. Notes had begun that first night with Josh. Now a completely different kind of story was almost completed. Thankfully, my editor was receptive.

Josh was amazing. Initially I’d tried to keep him from chauffeur duty, homework help, or general overtly parental responsibilities. In the process, I’d hurt him. He wanted the whole package: the kids, the ball games, late nights with stomachaches, recitals, and tooth fairy duties. And when I finally gave in to his requests, he performed these fatherly tasks with gusto.

End
was almost complete. It had been fascinating, watching him as he tried to infuse some of his Barnaby with the film version. I had no doubt that, as before, his performance would morph the entire film into something more. He was truly excited about his “psycho-bugger Van Gogh indie flick”, which had been bumped to lead into
Love and Honor
.

We were frequently distracted by each other. One long hazel warm gaze made me melt in his arms—something he enjoyed immensely. And as long as the children were at school or they were sleeping soundly, we spent long hours discovering one another.

Loving him, knowing how much he loved me, made everything right and purposeful.

He liked to joke that he’d helped me find my compass. I told him he was my North Star. Whatever it was, we were in it together and it was good. And I knew, because he told me all the time, that it would always be this way. Our love was something to cherish and protect. And I believed him.

Sitting on the sand, I watched the kids running down the beach. I smiled as Will ran, keeping his kite high in the wind. Every time the kite dipped or swerved, Will would set off running and squealing. I laughed, watching him. He was growing before my eyes, golden and active, happy and loved.

Mom sat reading my latest manuscript, shielded from the golden sun by her huge beach umbrella. I was curious to hear her thoughts on it. She seemed enthralled, which was a good sign. The pile of shells we’d collected earlier in the day lay covered with a towel, currently in use as her footstool. She liked to use them in her pottery pieces.

Nat laughed at Will before dropping onto her beach towel. She said something which made Will and Mom laugh before she lay back and closed her eyes. She placed another towel over her face and stretched out to sunbathe under the brilliant California sun. She was officially an adolescent now, more than willing to brood. But she was still willing to talk to me. It wasn’t always easy to hear, but she promised to always tell me the truth.

Next month we’d head to England for a long visit. Helen was prepping our soon-to-be home in England, the vicarage, for our arrival. I looked forward to making new memories there. Will couldn’t wait to get back to England. He missed clotted cream and fruit pastilles. And Natalie missed Helen. She and Natalie spoke via webcam almost nightly. I was glad that Natalie had Helen for a surrogate big sister. And though Mom never said it, I had a sneaking suspicion that she was planning some kind of cook-off with Nathan.

I slid my feet up in the warm sand, propping my sketchbook on my knees to look over my work. I used my pinkie to blend some of the thicker lines, rubbing lightly until the effect was right. I heard him come up beside me and stared up at him. “Hey, Handsome.”

“Hello.” Josh smiled as he bent to kiss me.

I waited until he sat beside me before sliding my arms around him for a more thorough greeting. His lips lingered on mine. He cupped my cheek as our gazes met and I smiled at him. His eyes fell to my sketchpad, which had slid to the sand upon his arrival. He held it up, staring at it with an appreciative eye. “That’s lovely.”

“Just enjoying the view.” I smiled at him, pointing to Will as he ran down the beach leading his kite.

“They’re having a good time.” He laughed, squeezing me to him with a sigh.

I nodded, smiling at the pleasure on his face. “They are. And you? How was your day?”

“I’m glad to be home.” He kissed me again lightly.

I felt my smile grow. Home. It sounded nice and felt very right the way he said it. “I’m glad you’re home too. Good day at work?”

“Depends. Meg’s trying to confirm the dates for the Van Gogh film. Any desire to go to France for a visit?” He was entirely serious.

“Somehow I think tagging along might interfere with your work.”

His thumb traced my jaw. “I don’t like being separated from you for long.”

There were times when he would explain how irrevocably I had changed his life, his heart. He said that meeting me had filled all of the gaps he’d felt but never understood. I inspired him, he said, to be the best man he could be, and it was a responsibility he planned to fulfill, to me, for the rest of his life. He never failed to amaze me.

I leaned into his touch. “How soon will you be leaving?”

He watched me with interest, his eyes traveling over my face thoughtfully. “We wrap up here next week. I imagine we could arrange some of it to overlap the visit home.”

“It will be wonderful weather,” I said. There was a certainty, a confidence in him, in our family, that grew stronger and more fulfilling each day. That he felt the same way about the children and me was a gift I hoped I’d always acknowledge.

He spoke hesitantly, exhaling a shaky breath. “We could consider making the trip a honeymoon?” His eyes held mine as he took my hands in his.

I stared at him, my heart in my throat.

“I’ve known since the night before you left Los Angeles that you are ‘home’ for me, Claire, wherever we go. Let me be your family, officially and irrefutably.” His hands held mine firmly.

I felt my heart kick up a notch. “Josh—” My voice broke.

His eyes searched my face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful, delicate ring. He slipped the ring on my finger then looked at my hand with distinct satisfaction. He took my hand in his, kissing it as the ring sparkled on my finger. “It was my dad’s mum’s ring. It suits you.” He looked back at my face, smiling.

“It’s beautiful.” I straightened my fingers, looking at the ring with wide eyes. I looked at him then, at this giving, supportive, beautiful man smiling at me. How I had found him, how he’d come to love me was something I was still trying to piece together.

“Claire.” He smiled his most knee-weakening smile. “Will you marry me?”

“How did I get so lucky?” I whispered.

He smiled as his thumb traced my jaw. “That’s not really an answer.”

He didn’t understand that he’d already given me so much. He’d helped me find and love
me
. It was Josh that had inspired me to give and accept love again. He’d shown me that sharing was a sign of respect, not a burden. He’d given me so much, but now he was giving me the best gift I could hope for.

Himself.

“Yes.”

He smoothed my hair from my face and cupped my face with his hands. “You’re mine now.” His lips were a whisper on mine.

I leaned into his arms as they wrapped around me. “I was yours long before you asked me to marry you,” I whispered against his shoulder, closing my eyes and burrowing close.

“Oh?” He peered down at me. “I’ve been holding my breath, worried you were going to disappear. I thought I might be just a stop along this journey to your new life.”

“You’re my new life, Josh. My journey brought me to you. And I love you very much.”

We regarded each other then. I traced the contours of his face with my eyes. His gaze was just as intent, and I found myself flushing a bit.

“I love you, Claire.” His voice was soft and his eyes grew warm and intense.

“You know, you’re really beautiful.” My voice grew husky.

His half-smile appeared. “As are you,” he said as he stood and pulled me up with him. “Come on, then. Let’s go tell them.” His hand wrapped around mine, warm and comforting. We set off down the beach to the rest of the family.

He looked at me, smiling his devastating smile, with the wind in his hair. He lifted my hand and kissed it, watching the ring on my finger sparkle brightly in the sunlight.

The wind carried Will’s happy greeting to us as we made our way to them. Nat smiled and waved, sitting up on her towel. I knew they’d be happy that Josh was officially part of the family. To them, he already was their family.

It was as warm as sunshine, the love and contentment that completely filled me now. And I knew with sudden absolute certainty.

This was it…my happily ever after.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Harriet Porterfield and Cynthia Jennings, who said I could write and encouraged me to do so. To my team of superheroes: The Shake a Spear Critique Group–you’re all awesome! Thank you, Shannon, for the countless Panera mornings and endless rants.

Thanks to InkSpell Publishing, especially Shilpa Mudiganti and Megan, for loving Claire and Josh’s story enough to share it with the world.

And a very special thank you to Shane, Summer, Emma, Jakob, and Kaleb for encouraging and supporting me to become a writer. You’re my happy ending!

About Sasha Summers

Sasha is part gypsy. Her passions have always been storytelling, history, and travel. Her first play was written for her Girl Scout troupe. She's been writing ever since. She loves getting lost in the worlds and characters she creates; even if she frequently forgets to run the dishwasher or wash socks when she's doing so. Luckily, her four brilliant children and hero-inspiring hubby are super understanding and supportive.

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  Two people from opposite worlds, one unforgettable kiss. You can't judge a carny by its cover.

They had a history.

They're friends now.

But do they have a future?