Chapter Twenty-One

What a whirlwind. It felt like a cliché to say, but it was the truth. In a few short days in New York, she’d already seen and done so much. She’d gone to the top of the Empire State Building. She’d eaten a hot dog and a slice of pizza from street vendors. She’d had real New York bagels. She’d seen a game at Yankee Stadium. Or more precisely, she’d seen a game being played at Yankee Stadium while she was driving by, but still—it was the Yankees. Wilder had even taken her to the deli where Sally faked an orgasm in When Harry Met Sally.

That had just been the first day.

The next day, they’d been busy at the DN East Coast offices where she’d finally met the infamous Devon. She and Wilder could learn a thing or two about how to manage a covert workplace romance from Devon and Waverly. You would’ve never known they were together and having a baby based on how they acted. Bailey couldn’t decide if it was inspiring or disheartening and cold.

With everything they’d had to do that day—dubbing tape and providing voiceovers along with facts and figures to run on the screen—Bailey had always been on guard. Even though Wilder had assured her there was little chance she’d run into her father, she couldn’t stop looking. Part of the problem was that she wasn’t entirely sure who to look for around corners. It had been so long since she’d seen him. He’d probably aged.

Virginia had gone with Waverly and Devon for that evening, and Wilder took Bailey and his parents out for dinner. They’d talked and laughed for hours, with his parents regaling her with stories about what kind of trouble their son had gotten into during his childhood. After, they’d walked through Times Square before heading back to the hotel. There, Wilder had kept her up later than he should have given their busy schedule. And in the morning, before they were due at the studio, he took her to see his New York storefront. She’d struggled to hide her surprise as she walked through. It was so polished and high-end. Just like Waverly. She searched to find hints of Wilder, but there just weren’t that many.

It was a whole new experience. Being here in New York with Wilder. After spending so much time in their little bubble in Texas, it was almost like being with a different person. Strangely enough, she didn’t mind Big City Wilder. While the Texas version would always be her favorite, this one was pretty adorable, too.

He certainly was charming. No matter what they were doing or where they were, he always seemed to be looking for some new way to impress her. He was so . . . attentive. Not that he’d been anything but attentive down in Texas, but this was a new level. It was so . . . much.

But Bailey was trying to be more forward-thinking with Wilder. Paige’s words had stayed with her through the final days of renovating and filming, and they were with her now. Maybe this was her reward. Maybe this was what she’d earned after years of waiting for something to give.

Who would have guessed she’d find it in a supporting role on a home improvement TV show? Who would have guessed she’d find it with a man like Wilder?

She was running on fumes by the time they made it to the network offices. Now that they were done with voiceovers, it was time for a meeting with the execs. Wilder flopped down next to her in the conference room. Since no one else was there yet, he kissed her nose and tweaked her chin.

“I’m thinking this is almost a wrap, babe.”

His words tugged at her unexpectedly. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.”

“Over for now.”

The set of his jaw, the hardness in his voice, suggested she shouldn’t argue. She didn’t because she desperately wanted to believe him.

Before either of them could say anything to soothe—or stoke a fire—the rest of the crew poured into the room.

“Anyone want to watch the raw cut of our first episode?” Renee asked. “Because y’all—”

Everyone let out a drawn-out “oooohh” because Renee had once vowed she’d leave Texas without picking up that word and making it part of her everyday vocabulary.

She waved her hands as if to say “yeah, yeah, yeah,” and powered on. “What I’m trying to say that if any of you guys would like to watch the raw cut, you might know a guy—or rather a woman—who can hook you up.”

Wilder cast a sidelong glance at Bailey. “I’m game. Are you?”

She nodded. “I’d love to see it.”

“Can you set it up for us?” Waverly asked. Catching the confusion on Bailey’s face, her lips curved up. “Can you tell us the basic premise of this episode?”

“Of course.” Grabbing the remotes and rising to his feet, Devon began. “In the first episode of this season—” The crew cat-called and cheered. He waited for them to quiet down before continuing. “In this season, Wilder and Waverley have found the perfect little piece of heaven in Wilder’s home state. But Waverly isn’t sure she wants to be so far away from home this season . . .”

“Maybe Devon missed his calling,” Wilder whispered in Bailey’s ear. “Maybe he should host his own show. He certainly has the dramatic flair our demographic wants to see on TV.”

She elbowed him in the side, which only made him chuckle.

Their sidebar went unnoticed by Devon, who continued his introduction. “Wilder is very persuasive, and she decides to give it a shot. Once in Texas, Wilder and Waverley also meet their first clients, the couple with the cabin in the woods.”

Oh. That was the one Bailey did the final consultation with. Was she getting significant screen time in the first episode? Hardly unable to contain her excitement, she caught the sparkle in Wilder’s eyes. Under the table, he squeezed her knee in silent encouragement.

The opening sequence played out on-screen. It was a staged bit of family time at a coffee shop. Though it was made to look like they were back in Toronto, it had actually been filmed somewhere in Austin. Wilder and Waverly bantered about where they’d like to work next. They went back and forth before settling on Texas.

It was a much more wholesome—and less dramatic exchange—than what Wilder said happened in reality. But profanity wouldn’t fly with the DN’s main advertisers.

“This is where we’ll run the opening credits,” Renee explained as the screen went black. “We’ll piece it together this week.”

The next scene popped up on the screen. In it, Waverly and Wilder met with the real estate agent and toured a bunch of houses. But then they found it—the project house. It reminded her of the first day on the job. Wilder said he knew she was the right person already. Knowing that always gave her heart a little jolt.

On the tour of the project house, Waverly spouted out ideas she had for updating the space. Her commentary sounded a lot like the notes Bailey had taken. Almost verbatim. Funny, but she hadn’t noticed that during filming. Either she’d been too flattered or caught up in the excitement of everything to notice or care. Bailey shouldn’t notice or care right now. She’d signed up for this. She was there to consult and implement. The work wasn’t really hers. She’d known it all along. But now . . .

With an offer made on the project house, Wilder and Waverly met with their “first” clients. The episode progressed like every other episode in the seasons before. The “talent” bantered back and forth while they fretted about the work. Waverly came up with a plan—which was exactly identical to the one Bailey had presented her.

That’s to be expected. That’s how the show works.

But it was stupid. And dishonest. People at home were going to sit there and think Waverly had amazing designs—or maybe they’d hate them—but either way, they were going to incorrectly attribute their opinion to Waverly. That didn’t feel right.

The episode carried on, and in a couple of scenes, Bailey popped up on-screen, always talking to Waverly in staged bits as her design assistant. But when it came time for the final staging—when Waverly had been in New York—the original footage was gone. In its place were little clips of Waverly adjusting a potted plant or a carpet. Ones Bailey had actually set out.

Bailey’s cheeks burned, but she said nothing.

Then it came time for the reveal. The couple stepped out of their car to stand in front of the house. Bailey’s heartbeat pounded. This was it. She remembered filming this with Wilder. She’d been so terrified. He’d been her rock. She glanced at him, and he gave her a tight-lipped grin that left her more nervous than reassured.

Waverly’s face popped up and a frown set on Bailey’s face. What was she doing there? Bailey said nothing as she watched Wilder lead the couple into the room. Then Waverly’s face popped up again to explain everything that had been done. The camera panned back to a close-up on the couple, an overview of the room, and another rotation of close-ups on Wilder, then Waverly.

Through the wonderful world of editing, the DN had created the illusion that Waverly hadn’t been in New York shacking up with Devon. She’d been in Texas, showing a couple their new home. And Bailey had played a minor, minor part in the process. Thanks to their iron-clad NDAs, no one would ever be able to call them out on the bullshit.

Son of a bitch.

The episode ended with Wilder and Waverly getting the keys to the project house and the couple having some friends over for dinner. Then, the screen faded to black.

Waverly clapped and grabbed on to Devon’s arm—so much for secret romancing. “Well, that was a fantastic episode. Our crew handled those transitions and pickup shots expertly. You’ve really outdone yourselves.”

Bailey darted a glance at Renee, who was seated on Wilder’s other side. She at least had the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

When no one else spoke, Waverly continued to fill in the space. “I’m just so proud of how it turned out. That home is a real winner. It’s some of my—I mean, our—best work. Don’t you think, Wilder?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He said nothing, but his eyes darted back and forth between Waverly—sitting primly like a queen holding court—and Bailey, in her stone-cold state of shock.

“You looked gorgeous on-screen, Miss Bailey,” Waverly continued. “You did a great job of not overshadowing—just like we discussed.”

The little wench. Bailey wanted to shout it at her. Or better yet, scream while she lunged at Waverly and pulled her hair out. She wasn’t overly concerned about her soon-to-be ex boss’s delicate condition at the moment. Bailey might be a grown-ass woman in her twenties, but her urge to catfight was as strong now as it ever had been.

Almost like she sensed the desire to draw blood, Renee scribbled a quick note and slid it past Wilder to Bailey.

We’re giving you an executive producer’s credit. The new scenes were required by the network. Don’t take it personally.

That was something at least. It was more than she’d been promised. Bailey understood that. But the reshoots were a surprise, and not a good one. It wasn’t what she’d expected. Especially not after she’d been invited to New York.

Maybe this wasn’t her break. Maybe she was destined to be the girl who brought coffee forever. It was funny (if by funny, she meant tear-inducing) that she’d left her last job because she’d been the coffee girl. Yet, isn’t that what she’d done on set, too? Sure, she’d created and built designs, but hadn’t she shown up with a crate of coffee every damn day?

And who told her to do that? No one. She’d done it all on her own. It’s like that’s what she wanted to be.

So much for launching her to new and better opportunities.

Renee told her not to take it personally. Fat chance. This had become more than a job. It had been her life. How was she not supposed to take it personally?

Wilder was the only thing keeping her from kicking over a trashcan or throwing one of the tacky fake plants out the window. His expression—the genuine shock on his face, the anger in his eyes—told her she wasn’t alone. Somehow that dampened the rage in her before it became all-consuming.

She wouldn’t explode. But she wouldn’t sit there and pretend to be happy. Jaw clenched, Bailey gave the room a tight-lipped smile and pushed away from the table. She had to get outside. It would be better for everyone if she put some distance between herself and the objects of her irritation.

She’d find a street vendor selling hot dogs. She could stuff her face for a minute and temporarily pretend everything was fine. It was barely nine, but this was New York. If she could score a morning hot dog anywhere, it was in the city that didn’t sleep.

She stepped off the elevator and was nearly to the door when a TV in the lobby caught her eye. It was on one of the morning shows, and Wilder’s and Waverly’s faces filled the screen. The text scrawling across the bottom in bold letters stopped her heart. She had to grab on to a chair back to stay steady. There weren’t enough hot dogs in the world to fill the gaping hole left by those words.

***

Wilder didn’t follow Bailey outside right away. Not because he didn’t want to. He did. He’d had to fight the urge and stay put. But he knew she needed a moment to herself. And he needed to deal with this.

He turned to Waverly first. “You say this was some of your best work?”

Her smile faltered a little. “Well, I said ours, but—”

“You weren’t even on location half the time. When you were, you were usually sulking or on the phone.” His jaw ticked, and he had to take in a deep breath. He couldn’t lose his cool. Even though he wanted to go off on her right now, he couldn’t. She was still Virginia’s mom. That took precedence over who she was to him. “What’s the point?” he asked, more in control of his voice. “Why are we still doing any of this?”

A frown marred Waverly’s forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Why are we still doing the show? Why are we still pretending to be something we aren’t for the sake of this show? Do you even want it anymore?”

“I . . .”

“Because it’s okay if we end it. After this season,” he added quickly under Devon’s frown. “No one is going to die if our faces aren’t on TV.”

“But . . .” Waverly seemed to be at a loss. It was nice for a change. “This is what we do,” she said at last. “We do a TV show.”

She put a protective hand to her belly, and the gesture almost had Wilder backing down. Almost. “That’s how it’s been. But maybe it’s time we try something else. You have the platform you’ve always wanted. You have . . .” he darted a glance at Devon, “the life you’ve wanted. Maybe it’s time to figure out what you want to do with it.”

She said nothing, but the crestfallen expression had left her face. It was replaced by a thoughtful frown. Good. She could put that brain of hers to work and think for a change. But he was done thinking and talking for now. At least where they were concerned. At the moment, there was something more pressing waiting for him.

He cleared his throat and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He was barely out the door when he heard someone call his name. He turned around as Renee caught up to him.

“What?”

She flinched at his tone. “I . . . I should have told you about the reshoots with Waverly. I should have told Bailey.”

“Yeah. You should have.”

“I . . . I wanted to say something. But my hands were tied. I had Waverly freaking out and Devon breathing down my neck. I had to keep them happy.”

He understood what she meant all too well. It made him even more furious. Renee was the producer behind their show. They couldn’t make it without her. His name was in the title. While he might not have Waverly’s fan following, his part—and Renee’s—were just as important. Yet somehow, they’d been relegated to keeping her happy.

“It’s okay,” he said at last. “We’re good.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

She nodded toward the elevator. “You better go get your girl.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Wilder found Bailey half a block away, sitting on a bench eating a hot dog. There were two empty wrappers on the bench next to her. Based on the blank way she was staring at the line of taxis and cars ahead of her, she wasn’t doing so well. He knelt in front of her. “Hey.”

When she still wouldn’t look at him or acknowledge his presence, he placed a hand tentatively on her knee and squeezed. “Bailey Honey?”

Her eyes met his at last. The tears and pain in them had his heart pounding in his ears. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. Clamping her eyes shut, she handed him her phone. He stared at her a moment longer before turning his eyes to the screen.

TV Home Improvement Couple Adds Addition

It appears that America’s favorite home improvement power couple will be taking on a major project. Multiple sources confirm that Wilder and Waverly Aldrich of the hit show “Playing House with Wilder and Waverly” will be designing a nursery for a new baby, due next spring.

“Waverly found out while they were on location filming in Austin this summer,” a source gushed. “While morning sickness made for some tricky moments on set, she couldn’t be happier.”

And based on how Wilder dotes on their pint-sized daughter, we can assume he’s over the moon about getting to play daddy a second time.

The same sources also say the new baby will feature prominently in the next season of the show, which is expected to begin filming in the fall.

Let’s hope the Aldrich family’s next project home has plenty of open concepts to house their growing brood.

Wilder shakily placed the phone back in Bailey’s hands. It took a Herculean effort not to smash the phone against the sidewalk, but it wouldn’t be right. It wasn’t his phone.

“I don’t know who leaked this,” he said at last.

“But is it true?”

“Well . . . yeah, I guess. I told you Waverly was pregnant. I—”

“No. The rest of it.”

“I don’t know what you mean . . . It’s not my baby. Whoever spilled was making a conjecture.”

“I know that.” She covered his hand. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me about that. But what about the rest of it? The part about you filming another season.”

“More conjecture. The studio hasn’t even brought up another season yet. And,” he turned his hand over to link with hers, “not even five minutes ago, I told Waverly we should maybe call it quits.”

“Really?”

“Bailey Honey, I’m done having a fake life with her. Maybe I haven’t made this completely clear, but the only life I’m interested in now is this one—you and me.”

Her eyes filled again, but this time the tears weren’t from anger or sadness. It still stabbed at his heart to see her cry, but at least these ones were happier—or as happy as they could be under the circumstances. He rested his forehead against hers. In a few minutes, they’d go upstairs, and he’d tell Devon and Waverly once and for all he was done with Playing House and the whole charade. He didn’t care about the media fallout. Hell, he’d even let them paint him as a fame-hungry monster. He didn’t care.

He’d do whatever it took to protect the only interests he cared about—Virginia and Bailey. Nothing else mattered.