Chapter Eight

After another grueling day on the job—this time creating preliminary design concepts to show two new on-screen clients the next week—it was about all Bailey could do to drag herself into her SUV.

Waverly still wasn’t back from New York. It had been more than a week, and she could tell the star’s absence was wearing on Wilder. He didn’t say anything. He never said anything bad about Waverly, unless it was a teasing joke for the cameras. But he was worried about meeting their deadlines. He kept apologizing. To Bailey, to Felix, to everyone.

Renee was freaking out, too. The cool poise Bailey had admired so much was slipping. Who could blame her? It was her job to keep everyone on time and budget, not track down the star of her show.

Bailey did what she could to help. She filmed her segments. Created the designs. Checked in on the progress on the job sites. She even continued to update Waverly’s social media profiles like she was the one actually doing the work.

It was fun, but after two full weeks of doing her job and Waverly’s, Bailey was basically a zombie.

Tonight would definitely be a takeout kind of night. Even though she’d mastered the art of motel room cooking, feasting on doctored-up ramen noodles, goldfish crackers, and Australian licorice was more effort than she could handle that night. She needed protein. And she needed cheese.

If she ordered the pizza now, she wondered if the delivery man—or woman, she wasn’t picky—could meet her at the steps leading up to her room. And maybe, for an extra charge, he—or she—wouldn’t minding tossing Bailey over his—or her—shoulders to carry her up to the room along with the pepperoni and mushroom du jour.

She’d probably get someone who could barely tote the pizza up to the second floor. Then she’d be out of luck on her plan and she’d still end up going over the top with her tip out of guilt.

Bailey was debating whether or not she had the strength to even open her car door—or if she should camp out on the ground until morning—when Felix called out a greeting. Though it required entirely too much effort, she raised a hand to wave.

“Big plans for the night?” He tossed a couple of tubs and bags into the bed of his truck.

“Not really.” She leaned back against the SUV to ease some of the weight off her throbbing feet. “I figure somewhere in greater Austin there is a pizza with my name on it.”

“Pizza?” He rested an elbow on the edge of his truck. “Any chance it might have a second name on it? Maybe one that starts with an F and ends with an X?”

During the past month, Bailey had gotten to know Felix a little. Aside from his rakish grin, dark brown eyes, and the day-old stubble he always seemed to have on his face, he was fun to be around. He and Wilder would banter back and forth whenever they were in the room, the way only good friends could do. More often than not, she’d laugh at their antics until her ribs hurt and she couldn’t breathe.

Part of her wished she had that kind of relationship with Wilder. But there was a thin line between wanting to joke around with him and the very real struggle of wishing she could press up against him.

Her relationship with Felix was less complicated. It was all work and jokes, and no nights spent waking up from inappropriate dreams.

“What kind of topping would be on this pizza?” she asked.

“Pepperoni? And anything else you like. I’m pretty easy to please when it comes to pizza.”

Wilder honked the horn from his truck and waved at them before pulling away from the curb. “Don’t you have plans with the boss?”

“Nah. His parents are coming up for the weekend. They’re picking Virginia up for another visit, so I imagine he’ll want to spend time with her.”

The memory of the easy way Wilder eased his daughter on his hip while walking around a house inexplicably sent a warm shiver down her spine. It was probably just her inner fangirl geeking out over how he’d done the same thing on TV in every episode of Playing House. She wondered if Virginia was too young to understand just how lucky she was to have a daddy who wanted to be around her all the time.

Shaking her head, Bailey returned her attention to what had to be a more important subject. “This magical pizza we’re discussing has mushrooms on it.”

“And a side of cheesy bread?”

She shook his hand. “We have a deal.”

They ate the pizza in Felix’s room. Considering how many papers and materials she had scattered throughout her room—and that hers was on the second floor while his was on the first—his more Spartan-like room seemed like the better option. Plus, his fridge was stocked with beer, while she only had a half-full bottle of water in hers.

She really needed to make a trip to the grocery store over the weekend.

“I saw you playing with Virginia, again today,” Felix said between bites of pizza. “You’re good with her.”

“She’s a sweet little girl.” And a handful. Their impromptu game of extension-cord jump rope followed by an ill-advised session with a can of chalkboard paint (followed by half an hour scrubbing their hands in the bathroom) had left her wiped. She wondered how Wilder and Waverly had any time to sleep. It was no wonder they needed assistants and crew members up the wazoo to get work done.

“You’re gonna make some kids a fine mama someday.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Now, don’t be so hard on yourself. You just need to find the right man. Then everything else will fall into—”

“Not everyone needs a husband or child to make their lives complete.”

Felix’s hand froze with a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth and stared. She bit down on her lip to prevent herself from going into a full rant, but it wasn’t easy. She just got tired of people saying “don’t worry, you’ll find him.” Her old co-workers—the ones who actually talked to her—used to say that all the time. Never mind the fact that she wasn’t looking.

Not wanting to completely alienate her newest colleague and only friend candidate, she pulled her lips into a tight grin. “Family is great for some people, but it’s not for everyone.”

“That’s kind of grim.”

“I disagree. It’s practical.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. And, frankly, for some people, it’s the truth.” She needed to find the right words to make him understand where she was coming from. “Let’s say you decide you want to get married, have kids, the whole deal.”

“Right.”

“Say you spend your whole life trying to find that one person who will complete you. The one person you can’t be happy without. What if you don’t find them? Or worse, what if you think you’ve found them, but they die or they decide you aren’t the one for them. What then?”

“You’re treading into depressing waters again.”

“Only if that’s all you expect from your life.” She sighed and picked a rogue pepper off her slice of pizza. “If you live your whole life expecting someone else or some ideal to make you happy, there’s a good chance you’ll be disappointed. But if you can be content with yourself and create your own dreams—ones you can fulfill on your own—then you’re going to have a satisfying life.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“There’s a difference between being lonely and alone. I’d rather be happy alone than lonely in the pursuit of something I might never find.”

“So what you’re saying is you aren’t looking to get married or have kids.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“But what if you meet someone and—”

“I’m happy with the life I have.” She really was. Now that she had a job that would launch her into bigger and better things, she couldn’t complain. Even before Playing House, she had the dream of this kind of opportunity, and she was working toward it. By herself. That was a kind of contentment of its own.

“Fair enough. I guess I still don’t quite get the problem with settling down and having a family, but,” he added before she could interrupt, “it’s not my place or my business to try and understand.”

And that was more than fine by her.

They were halfway through the pizza and cracking open a second bottle of beer when Felix made a proposal.

“Want to play a game?”

She took a slow drink of beer before answering. “What kind of a game?”

“Well . . . you’re still playing catch-up on the past couple of seasons of Playing House, right? How ‘bout we watch a few more episodes tonight.”

She sat up straighter. “That’s a game?”

“It is when we add a few rules and a bottle of tequila to it.”

A drinking game. Interesting. Bailey had never been much for drinking games in college. She’d been too focused on getting good grades and internships to party hard on the weekends. On the rare occasion she’d gone out, she’d been the designated driver. She’d always been too worried about getting pulled over and stuck to plain old lemonade.

But tonight wasn’t a school night, and she didn’t have any homework for this weekend. Maybe it was time to live a little.

“What are the rules?”

“First rule,” Felix called out while he rummaged through a cupboard, “any time someone—a potential homeowner or Waverly—talks about an open concept or floor plan, we take a shot.”

“What if Wilder brings it up?”

“He won’t.” Finding the coveted bottle of tequila, Felix thrust it in the air victoriously. “While he’s a fan of open concepts, in theory, it drives him nuts how much people talk about them. He’s more about tearing down the walls instead of dwelling on it and making it a thing.”

“People are pretty crazy for open design right now.” She couldn’t remember the last time someone hadn’t asked for a kitchen that opened into the dining and living rooms. There was a reason for that—it looked good and made a space seem bigger. But with it being the focal point of almost every episode of every home makeover type show on the air, she could understand why that would get old for Wilder. Just once, it would probably be nice to have someone say, “Let’s close this place up.” “Second rule?”

“Take a shot every time a client complains about an existing paint color.”

She shook her head. That was an even more common complaint, which was absurd. Changing paint color was maybe the easiest thing a person could do to a home. Even her sister managed to paint her condo without keeling over. Bailey’s liver was probably going to give out in under an hour. “Is there a third rule?”

“Chug your beer any time Wilder gets poetic about discovering hardwood floors.”

She laughed, even though she’d been every bit as poetic as Wilder was the other day when they’d discovered hardwoods. “Please tell me there aren’t any more rules. We’ll die.”

“Weakling,” Felix teased. “No, that’s the end of the rules. This time. Are you up to the challenge?”

She clinked her beer with his. “Here’s to open concepts.”

***

The house held on to Wilder. Rather than head back to the motel at six when the crew knocked off for the weekend, he found himself driving down the winding road to the project house. It had been a few days since he’d checked in to see the progress. With his parents picking up Virginia a day earlier than planned, he had some unexpected free time.

It was too bad his parents had wanted to hurry back that night. He wouldn’t have minded the company for this inspection.

Flipping on a light switch in the foyer, he cast a cursory glance around. Nodding at the initial signs of improvement, he climbed the stairs to begin the tour in the bedrooms.

The master suite was done of course. They’d finished it a couple of days before Waverly left for New York. She’d hung around long enough to ensure her living quarters for the next five months were in good shape. Then she’d promptly left them with no promise of when she’d be back other than “soon.” Like a sucker, he’d let her go without complaint. He’d always been a sucker when it came to Waverly.

That wasn’t fair—or particularly charitable of him. Maybe he was jealous of her. Jealous she could come and go as she pleased. That she did what she wanted while he held down the fort and lived like a monk. And the real sucker punch was that he was the one still working on the TV show she’d wanted, while she was taking an unscheduled break.

The show could go away, and he wouldn’t care. It was her dream, not his. But he kept it going, because it was what she wanted. She’d always had that kind of hold on him.

It did more than piss him off. It stung his pride and, okay, maybe it kind of hurt his feelings. Or at least his ego.

He couldn’t confront her about any of this. He was a dude. The second he even hinted at having any feelings, he’d launch World War III as far as she was concerned. They’d made it through four years of this arrangement without killing each other. He’d like to see if they could make it through the next fourteen without too much drama. Even one more year would be ideal.

That was something that kept him up at night. What happened when Virginia started school? Would they continue to uproot her every six months and put her in a different school? Like she was a military brat moving from base to base? Did they hire a tutor and have her study in a room at the project house while they made a TV show?

He heard that’s what child actors did on TV shows. While they might pretend otherwise, that’s essentially what she was. They’d made her part of their TV show. She was a recognizable face to their fans. They’d made that decision for her before she was old enough to have a say. It was something he and Waverly had decided together. The producers had pitched it. They thought having Virginia on-screen as a visible link between the two of them would help sell them as a couple. With his eyes and nose and Waverly’s hair and lips, there was no denying she was theirs.

That disproved the naysayers who occasionally wrote out their conspiracy theories on message boards. Technically, they were right to doubt whether or not Wilder and Waverly were a couple, but they were wrong to general opinion.

At the time, it had made sense to put Virginia on the show. They’d made sure she wasn’t on-screen too often. They never showed anything too personal. Still, they’d given her a media presence. He’d always wondered if that had been the right decision.

Especially now that she was older. They’d been nomads her whole life. Maybe it was time to plant roots so she could have a chance at a normal childhood. Or at least as normal as any childhood could be.

That was another conversation for yet another day. He and Waverly would have to at least be in the same room to make a decision that big. He’d have to keep his cool when they did. He would. That was Wilder: Mr. Cool.

***

After two episodes of the game, Bailey no longer thought she was going to die. But she also wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever be able to walk again. The room spun too much when she tried to stand.

The opening credits rolled for the third episode, and Felix turned to Bailey shaking the bottle of tequila. “Do we dare another episode?”

“Yes.” She propped herself up on the pile of pillows on the couch. “But this is our last one.”

“That’s what people always say.” He shook his head. “That’s how the DN gets away with showing these same episodes over and over again.”

“Suckers.”

He snorted and topped off a row of shot glasses. She gaped at him. “I remember this episode. Trust me. We’re going to need all of these in the first thirty seconds.”

She groaned but pushed herself up to hunch over the coffee table. She wanted to be ready to play when the time came. Sure enough, within the first thirty seconds, Waverly decided to take down a wall at the project house, and Wilder talked about what made the hardwood floors in this particular house so important.

(Spoiler alert: It was because they were original, and the house dated back before the Civil War. This house was in a battleground state so, duh, history.)

Still gasping for breath after the back-to-back shots, Bailey’s phone started ringing. She checked the display on the screen and frowned.

Noticing the change in her demeanor, Felix asked, “Who is it?”

“Wrong number.” Because it had to be a mistake. There was no other reason her father would call, unless it was an accident. More likely than not, he’d hit her number by mistake. Or maybe he’d seen “Bailey” in his cell phone and couldn’t quite place the owner of the number.

She hadn’t heard from him since she’d graduated from grad school. He’d texted to say he was sorry he couldn’t make it but he was depositing an undisclosed sum of money into her account as a gift. She’d been tempted to send the money back without comment. She almost did. Then she recognized how stupid it would be to throw away cash when she had a pile of debt. So she’d made a large payment on her student loans and decided not to give the man who’d helped give her life another thought.

Her phone rang again. She nearly ignored this call before realizing it was a different number on her display. Ignoring the drama unfolding on the screen (“Can you believe the previous owners covered those hardwoods?” Time for another shot.), she answered.

“Heeeeee-eeeeeeyyyyy.”

Paige chuckled. “Sounds like someone is having a little bit of fun on a Friday night.”

“I am.” Her eyes widened. “Oh shit. I should have called to see if you wanted to hang out with us.”

“Us?”

“Felix and me.” She waved at her partner in crime, who had taken an interest in the phone conversation. She covered the receiver and theatrically mouthed, “It’s my sister.” “He’s the carpenter. We’re playing this really fun game, and you’d totally love it.”

Felix paused the show and mouthed back, “Tell her to come over.”

“You should totally come. We’re hanging out at the motel. We have plenty of . . .” She glanced around at the half-eaten pizza, breadsticks, and junk food littering the coffee table along with their drinks. “Carbs. You can come have carbs with us.”

“Funny you should mention . . .” Paige trailed off. “I actually took a chance that you might want some company tonight . . . aaaannnnnddd . . . I’m standing outside the motel.”

Bailey let out an excited whoop and a promise to meet her in two minutes. She hung up and caught Felix watching her closely, an eyebrow raised.

“Everything okay?”

“Perfect. My sister is already here.”

“No shit?”

She nodded. “Let’s go get her.”

It took both of them working together to find the motel lobby—there were a lot of hallways. She bet people got lost there all the time.

Paige was pacing back and forth in the lobby when they finally located it. Spotting them, she froze. What was she—Oh. She was staring at Felix. Like he was a piece of meat. And he—Bailey let out a sigh—was looking at her like he’d like to sample whatever she was offering. Even in her drunken stupor, she could practically feel the heat transmitting between them. It was already on, and they hadn't even said one word to each other.

Not him. Not her. Not happening. It wasn’t a matter of jealousy. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t care who her sister tagged as her next conquest. But he was going to fall for her—they always did. She would leave him brokenhearted. Then Bailey would still have to work with him for the next four or five months while he moped around and asked what he could have done to make it work. No matter how many times she told him he’d done nothing wrong—no matter how often she said the Meredith girls just weren’t cut out for a lifetime of monogamy—he wouldn’t care. In his eyes, Paige Meredith would always be the one who got away, the one who stole his heart, the one who left him a broken man.

Bailey loved her sister. More than anything in the world. But she also understood their limitations.

They weren’t built for happily ever afters. It wasn’t part of their makeup. A person only had to look at their dad—the dick who left his family. Which he repeated two more times before Paige and Bailey even had a chance to get to know their stepmoms.

Then there was their mama. She’d been with Roger for almost twenty years, but she was so jaded by what happened with their dad she’d never been willing to say “I do” again. Not even to a good man like Roger.

Felix seemed like a good man, too. Even if he was eyeing her sister like she was the best present under the Christmas tree. A present he couldn’t wait to unwrap.

Paige wouldn’t mean to break his heart. She never did. If it was any consolation to any of the guys on her ex list, it was never easy for her. She might pretend they came in and out of her life with no problems. But every so often she got a little attached. Things got hard. They’d fight. She’d run away, and that brave facade would crack.

Anyone who said it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all had never met Paige.

That’s why Bailey figured life was easier when there weren’t anyone else’s feelings to worry about. That wasn’t being selfish. No, when you were a mess, you were just saving someone else from disaster.

Before she could shout out a warning to either of them, Felix introduced himself. Paige gave her best sultry eye. And Bailey stood in the background, gaping like a goof.

Too late. Her good intentions were just going to have to be enough. She hoped he wasn’t a baby when Paige eventually froze him out. Then again, who knew? Maybe they’d make this a long-term thing. By long-term, she meant it would at least last until they finished principle filming and she no longer had to suffer the fallout.

Maybe she could gently encourage Felix to not be overly demanding and play it cool. She could also not-so-gently tell her sister not to go into full Paige Mode until the fall.

It was a solid plan, actually. One she’d come up with on tequila brain, which made it all the more impressive from her perspective.

“Would you ladies like to head back to the room to play another round of Playing House?” Felix asked, his arm already easily wrapped around Paige’s shoulders.

“That sounds awesome.” Paige flashed a bright smile, before wiggling her eyebrows and mouthing “so hot” to Bailey.

She stepped forward, but her stomach lurched. The idea of drinking more beer and tequila had her insides quaking. “You guys go ahead.” She sucked in a few shallow breaths. “I’m going to grab some fresh air. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?” For the flash of a second, Paige’s face grew concerned. “You’re awfully pale.”

If she wanted, Bailey could pull the ultimate cock block. She could feign illness—which wouldn’t be much of a stretch given the little bout of post-shots nausea she was experiencing. Paige would take her back to her room. They’d curl up in front of the TV for a Criminal Minds marathon and pretend she’d never met Felix.

Given the way he was eyeing her, and the glances Paige kept sneaking, Bailey would only be delaying the inevitable. If they didn’t hit it off tonight, they would the next time they run into each other. They’d definitely try to run into each other after this.

Bailey waved her off. “I’m always pale in the winter. Go ahead. I’ll see you soon.”

Like in the morning, when Paige texted to find out if they could meet up for breakfast so she could recap the night with Felix. Because there was no way Bailey was going back to his room that night. She still had some mystery with her sister. She’d never walked in on her, and she’d like to keep it that way.

Almost like Paige was reading her thoughts—which was quite possible, given how much time they’d spent together in their lives—the worry slipped away and she wiggled her eyebrows. Yeah, Bailey wouldn’t see her again any time soon.

Felix still had a little grace left in him to play the gentleman. “Are you—”

“Go.”

With a “yes, ma’am,” he and Paige were on their way down the hallway maze. Still wanting to clear her head, Bailey slipped out the front doors and plopped down on the bench. This was better. Fresh air. That’s all she needed. Fresh air and room to breathe.