Chapter Twenty-Five

What a difference a couple of weeks could make in the life of a man. Three weeks ago, he’d been blissfully planning a future with Bailey. Preferably one that started on a beach, or some remote mountain, where the two of them could just be.

Fast forward to this moment, when he was in yet another meeting with yet another suit trying to come up with some sort of resolution for this mess he had got himself into.

Bailey had been right. Devon wasn’t going to let his prized show go without a fight. Even if it meant pissing off Waverly. He was doing this for them, Devon had argued. To protect her professional legacy and build up a little nest egg for Junior. For more than a few tense moments, Wilder had worried Devon might sway Waverly back to his side. But when she’d called a meeting a few days after the initial firestorm to lay out her plans for the future, he’d known he could trust her.

Devon discovered his threats and promises couldn’t work on everyone. Particularly not when she’d issued some of her own. Like the threat to tell their story on every talk show that would have her. Her promise to give him hell in court when it came to paternity rights. When she’d coolly explained all of this, Wilder had caught the dueling emotions on Devon’s face. On the one hand, he’d looked ready to strangle her. On the other, he’d seemed almost ready to kiss her. Wilder hadn’t particularly wanted to see either outcome.

In the end, it had been Bailey’s father who’d had the most influence over Devon. After calmly explaining that there was no legal precedent to force them into a contract for another season, he’d appealed to Devon on another level. A father, he’d explained, only got so many chances to do right by his children. Did he really want to start his relationship with his child by blackmailing the kid’s mother? Was he willing to spend the rest of his life begging for forgiveness over something like a TV show?

As it turned out, not even a dick like Devon was completely heartless when it came to his unborn child.

Wilder had signed over his side of their business ventures to Waverly the day before. Despite his protests, he’d accepted a small payout. “Something to start your next venture with,” she’d explained. It might have taken her a few years, but Waverly had come around. Or at least she’d realized living a lie was more work than it was worth.

With those practical business matters arranged, the only thing left to do was kill Playing House and the myth they’d built with as little fallout as possible.

One of the marketing gurus shared a series of charts that showed advertising was already selling well for the reruns currently airing. The still-yet-to-be confirmed by official sources news about Waverly had generated a lot of attention. There was plenty of fan buzz on social media, which had the programming team planning to run three consecutive weekends of marathons leading up to the premier date. Waverly’s book sales were going through the roof. And the flagship businesses and product lines had never been more popular.

Now that she was through the first trimester, Waverly was past the morning sickness that had her sidelined for the last months of filming. She was suddenly energized and ready to be in front of the camera again. Those were perfect conditions for launching a new series.

They were also kind of the worst when you were planning to bulldoze everything by revealing the truth.

Wilder felt a little guilty thinking about the other people who would be affected by the end of the show. Their camera crew and most of the people at the network had been great to them through the years. He hated to think of them losing any income over the end of the show. Then, almost as quickly, he realized it wouldn’t take long for another big show to come along and replace them at the top.

“To be honest, this isn’t the most opportune time to drop a bomb like this, from an advertising perspective,” the marketing wunderkind said.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t give a shit about your advertisers.” Wilder’s eyes narrowed into slits. “This is my life.”

The guru laughed nervously, which only stoked Wilder’s frustration more. So now he was a jester. That should come as no surprise. He’d been the comic relief on Playing House for years. Why would that stop now, just because he was royally pissed off?

“We’re just saying—”

“I’ve got to get out of here.” Wilder rose to his feet. If he stayed in the conference room any longer, he’d probably punch someone in the face. He turned to Waverly. “You guys decide how you want this to play out, then let me know what to do. I’m getting a coffee.”

“We actually have—”

“We can handle this part without him,” Waverly interrupted yet another guru. She sent him a sympathetic look.

Wilder still couldn’t decide whether or not he trusted this new softer side of Waverly. He doubted it would last long, but he’d take it for now. Once he was down on the main level of the building, he decided he wasn’t quite in the mood for a walk after all. He grabbed a coffee from a stand and plopped down on a bench in the lobby. He sipped on the coffee and winced. It wasn’t very good. He probably would’ve gotten better if he’d stayed in the office. But he preferred the quiet bustle down there to the marketing meeting.

Setting the coffee aside, he checked his phone for new messages. Nothing on his voicemail or texts. No new emails. Just more of the same radio silence he’d faced since Bailey had sent him her last email. He reread it again for good measure, hoping some clue about where she’d gone would pop out. He hated not knowing where she was. He hated that he hadn’t gotten to her fast enough.

He’d been on the first flight he could get to Austin. Felix had beaten him by half a day and somehow been turned over to the other side. After twisting his arm—literally—he’d gotten to Paige’s house as fast as he could. But Bailey hadn’t been there. Unlike with Felix, he hadn’t been able—or willing—to twist her arm. He figured she’d probably gone to her mama’s house. He’d been all over Smithville before Felix had called to say it was too late again. Bailey was leaving the country.

Leaving the country. Bailey hadn’t even had a passport until he’d suggested they go to Mexico. Now she’d fled the country. Without him.

Felix hadn’t known where Bailey was headed, and he wasn’t going to pester Paige into confessing—no matter how much Wilder begged. He was worried about landing in hot water with his own Meredith sister.

Before he’d return to New York to settle everything with Waverly and the network, he’d pleaded his case to Paige once more. The damn thing was she’d seemed sympathetic to his cause. She’d asked him to give Bailey some time. All of this was new and overwhelming. If he loved her, he’d give her a chance to decompress and adjust to her new feelings. Bailey, Paige had assured him, would come around.

If she didn’t come to it on her own in a timely manner, Paige promised she’d help Bailey get there.

He could have tried to do more digging on his own, but he figured Paige was right. He should give Bailey the chance to come to her own decisions. But it was taking for-freaking-ever. Now that he was almost through these mind-numbing negotiations, he was ready to start the rest of his life. With her.

Because once he found her again, he was going to make damn sure she understood he intended to stick with her. She would know every day, for the rest of their lives, that he loved her. And the only way she could get rid of him was to have him offed in a staged construction accident.

His phone dinged, and a new message popped up from his father.

Good news. We’ve got the new plumbing installed in the farmhouse. You’ll have running water if you’re willing to live in the middle of chaos.

He grinned. That was something. He and Virginia would be heading back to Texas at the end of the week. She was ready and raring to start pre-K in September. Having fully functional indoor plumbing would be a necessity if he was going to be on full-time daddy duty from now on.

That had been another somewhat surprising development from Waverly’s newfound thinking. After a lot of talking—just the two of them—she’d agreed that Virginia deserved a chance to experience childhood in a more stable way. While she’d cried—and damn it, even after everything, her tears still wore on him—she had agreed. Virginia would live with Wilder in Texas. She’d come stay with Waverly in New York or Toronto—or wherever she happened to be—on school breaks. And Waverly would be a welcomed guest in Texas any time she wanted.

It might still be an unconventional arrangement, but their little family had never really fallen under the heading of conventionality.

Wilder wished the house was a little farther along before he brought an almost five-year-old into it, but he didn’t want to move back into a motel either. It was funny, after years of pretending to live in project houses, Wilder was going to be doing it for real.

Through the bustle of the lobby, a pair of shoes clicked closer. The polished patent leather shoes came to a stop in front of him. His eyes rose until he was face-to-face with Bailey’s father. Though he owed him a debt of gratitude for his help ironing out the legalities involved with him leaving the show, Wilder still wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to act around him. Bailey had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want anything to do with her father. He should respect those wishes. Even if he had always encouraged her to hear the guy out, it was her call to make.

But Bailey wasn’t there right now, and her father was watching him with some interest.

“Mr. Meredith.”

“Is this seat taken?”

Wilder lifted up his coffee mug and gestured for him to take the seat. When he did, he pushed out his legs and leaned back against the wall. “This has been one heck of a ride.”

“Tell me about it.”

“At least you’re almost off the hook. I still have to come to work with these people every day.”

“You could always quit. Work somewhere else.”

“Nah. I’m too close to retirement. I might as well coast.”

Wilder let out a short laugh. Following the older gentleman’s lead, he leaned against the wall and rested his eyes.

“So,” Mr. Meredith said. “Is this the part of the story where you go and get the girl?”

“I wish.”

“She’s crazy about you. She might not have said it in as many words, but my daughter is pretty much smitten. She mentioned your name a dozen times, even though she was trying to pretend she didn’t want to talk about you.” Mr. Meredith let out a sigh. “As a father, I’m probably supposed to have some sort of opinion. Or I’m supposed to tell you to treat her right or offer my blessing. But I think we both know that out of the two of us, I’m the one with the least credibility on that front.”

Wilder sat up again. “You talked with her?”

“Right before she left town. She met me for coffee. Listened to my piece and said she’d think about seeing me again.” Lifting up a shoulder, his lips pulled into a frown. “But again, when it comes down to it, only one of us deserves getting to see her again. And it’s not me. I’m probably the one to blame for why you aren’t getting it so easily.”

Wilder started to protest but stopped. Mr. Meredith may have redeemed himself somewhat in the past few weeks—and in ways Bailey didn’t know—but he was probably right. Bailey had trust issues where men were concerned that began long before Wilder was in the picture.

“Here’s hoping I get the chance.”

“It’s not a matter of hope. It’s a matter of showing up.” He patted Wilder on the shoulder before rising to his feet. “I’m no expert on my daughter, but I’m pretty sure that’s all she’s ever wanted. A man she could count on to show up.”

***

The airplane began its final descent into Houston, and Bailey craned her neck to see out the window. Even though it was dark, the scattering of lights gave her at least a vague impression of the skyline.

She’d spent the past month in Haiti helping with home construction, and she was looking forward to setting foot on US soil once again. Not that the trip hadn’t done her good. After spending so much time in the bubble of a home improvement show with a big budget, she’d needed to regain some perspective.

Working side by side with people still rebuilding their lives after years of natural disasters and unstable government had given her some of that. Though she hadn’t spoken a lick of Creole when she arrived, she’d done her best to help them reinforce their homes without getting in the way. It hadn’t been easy. She’d thought she’d been tired working on the show, but building homes in the Caribbean heat day after day had shown her a new level of exhaustion.

She’d also thought she knew how it felt to be satisfied with her work when she saw a finished home on filming day. But seeing someone step into a house after spending so long without one . . . it was a new sense of accomplishment.

She’d been ready to go back to Texas, but boarding that plane hadn’t been easy. Not when she knew there were still so many other people in need. It really made her problems seem tiny in comparison.

It’s why her mama and Roger had suggested she fill in a last-minute vacancy with their church’s mission trip. She’d barely had time to book a ticket and make her flight. (While booking her trip, she’d also swung by her mama’s doctor to pick up a prescription for Malarone. Just because she was being spontaneous didn’t mean she wanted to contract malaria.)

The time away had been good, but it hadn’t really solved anything. As the wheels bumped onto the runway and the plane slowed, Bailey knew it was only a matter of time before she’d have to face the problems she’d left behind. Namely Wilder. She’d gone away to distract herself, but he’d never left her mind. She’d see him everywhere she looked—when she helped put up drywall or checked the structural integrity of a foundation. He’d pop into her head. Her heart would clench. She’d wonder if he was as angry with her. She’d wonder what was going on with the show or the fallout from his argument with Waverly. She’d wonder if he missed her every bit as much as she missed him.

It had been easy to pretend she couldn’t do anything about missing him when she was without cell phone service and couldn’t get a strong enough Wi-Fi connection.

She wouldn’t have that excuse now. Pity. While the time away had given her perspective, she hadn’t found any clarity.

For all she knew, Wilder had caved under Devon’s demands and agreed to pretend he was the father of Waverly’s second child. They might be gearing up to film another season of the show, even as they were doing promo for the new season, which would air after Labor Day. She couldn’t fault him if he’d gone that route. It wasn’t about her. It was about being a good father.

It was also possible he was mad at her. She had left the county without saying good-bye. And unlike when she’d left New York in the middle of the night, she hadn’t left him any kind of a message. That was bound to bother him. No, it was guaranteed to bother him, which was completely fair.

Before she’d boarded the plane for Port-au-Prince, Felix had sent her a poignant text: “Just because he never said it out loud, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it. Maybe give him another chance.”

Her head had spun as she’d tried to process his words. He’d used so many negatives, but she got his meaning.

Wilder loved her. She’d known. Not just because he’d almost said it in New York, but she’d seen it on his face and in his eyes when she’d woken up in the hospital. He’d shown her in a hundred different ways in the months following.

He loved her, and she loved him. That didn’t make it any easier. She stared at the phone she hadn’t turned on in weeks. She could always open up the lines of communication now. It was something she’d wanted to do—felt pulled to do—every day. There was no time like the present. Then again, she could wait until she was back in Austin.

That made more sense. She wasn’t chickening out. She was just being practical. Who knew how long it would take her to get through customs? Plus, the signs said, “No cell phones please.” She was just complying with TSA regulations. Then, once she was past all of this, she could give him and this matter her full attention.

Beyond the customs gate, she noticed a series of TVs lining a wall. Her eyes were instinctively drawn to them. It had been so long. The rest of the church group had gone to a resort once a week to get their TV and technology fix. She’d elected to stay back at their base to work on new designs that could add more efficiency to the homes they were building.

Scanning the TVs one by one, her eyes froze when a pair of familiar faces filled one screen. She nearly dropped her passport but regained her wits enough to tuck it into her purse while she took a step closer toward the TV bank.

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.