Epilogue
“Our next guest hardly needs an introduction. We all loved him on the hit TV show On the Edge, and now he’s making waves on the big screen as a director and writer. His film, Narcissistic Tendencies, is currently up for two Golden Globe Awards—Best Motion Picture-Drama, and Best Screenplay. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome Nicholas Wells.”
The crowd went wild. If only they could see the sight before my eyes. The faint glow of the TV light flickered in our bedroom. Nick was propped up against his pillows beside me on our bed with our son, Nicholas Jr., or Nicky as we loved to call him, curled up on his daddy’s bare chest, soundly sleeping.
Our oldest baby was next to me clutching her phone and sleeping restlessly. She and Liam had just broken up and she was heartbroken. His reasoning was they should explore other relationships. From a parent’s point of view, that was a wise choice, but I hated seeing our daughter’s heart ache. My heart ached too, thinking that she wouldn’t be here much longer to invade our bed. She was graduating in five short months. She had yet to decide where she was going to school, but I was angling for in state. Nick and I were constantly touting all the good schools in California she could attend.
“You looked good,” I whispered to Nick.
He stretched out his arm, inviting me to snuggle in next to him. I did so with tired pleasure. It was way past my bedtime, but ever since Nick was on the press junket, I’d been staying up late to watch every talk show he and his cast had been on promoting Narcissistic Tendencies. I was so proud of him. The movie had made it to number one the third week after it was released in November. It was considered a sleeper hit. The word of mouth and critical acclaim had been amazing. He was home now for Christmas. The show we were watching had been recorded earlier in the week.
Nick kissed my head. “I’ve missed you. I want you and the kids to come with me next week when I go to New York to promote the film.”
“Our parents will still be here.” They all insisted on being here for Nicky’s first Christmas, and my mom and Nan were worried about me being all alone with a baby and Skye, so they had been here for two weeks already taking over every aspect of our lives from cooking to cleaning. It was fun to watch them debate about whether meat was good for you or not. They both agreed to disagree, so my mom was making a tofu turkey while Nan was making the real deal for Christmas dinner. Poor Dad would have to eat Mom’s, and he would be the only one.
But honestly, they didn’t have anything to worry about; I was managing fine. Nicky was an angel baby and had been sleeping through the night since he was two months old. Now at six months, he was the happiest kid in the world as long as he was fed, dry, and constantly paid attention to, which was no problem. I almost felt bad thrusting another Wells man on the world with his enigmatic blue, blue eyes and his already killer toothless smile who, like his daddy, already knew if he flashed it he would get his way. He was so adored, we fought about whose turn it was to hold him. Nick got dibs tonight since he had been gone for several days in a row.
“They can still be here. I want you with me.” Nick ran his fingers down my bare arm.
I took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay.”
“I know what I’m asking of you, so thank you.”
Being Nick’s wife was wonderful. Being Nicholas Wells’s wife was sometimes difficult for me. I hated the spotlight, and I was surprised how many people there were trying to thrust me into it. I could hardly go to the grocery store without someone stopping me or taking my picture. And the number of requests I had from magazines and news organizations for interviews and pictures of our children was ridiculous. Now we had to have security with us at times when we went out as a family, like next week in New York. All this while I was worried about leaking breasts and if I’d packed enough diapers.
The late show host interrupted my thoughts with his laugh. “Rumor has it this movie is a love note to your wife. What I want to know is what kind of man writes his wife a love letter about a narcissistic psychotic killer?”
The audience roared with laughter. That had been a big talking point, and each host had gotten plenty of mileage out of it. It didn’t matter, Nick and I knew exactly what it all meant, and Nick was tight-lipped about his personal life. All he would ever say was, “I owe my wife a great deal, and without her, this movie would have never happened.”
As much as we tried to keep our family life private, a picture of Nick holding Nicky when he was only a few weeks old at the studio flashed on the screen. The audience gave a collective, “Aww.”
It really was a sweet picture. Nick never looked so attractive as when he held our baby, like right now.
“And here’s Nick showing off his domestic skills,” the host quipped. “How’s it being on diaper duty at your age?”
“It’s great at any age,” Nick responded.
I was glad to hear that and thought maybe this was a good time to discuss a little matter. “How would you feel about extending diaper duty for a while?”
Nick muted the TV. “What do you mean?”
I made circles with my finger on Nick’s bare chest. “Well . . . remember last month when I surprised you at your office for lunch?”
“Yes,” he groaned with pleasure. “I’d like a repeat right now. I’ll put Nicky in his crib and you get Skye into her room.”
“Hold on, tiger, we’ll get there.”
“Is something wrong?”
I kissed my son’s head and breathed in his scent. I smoothed his baby soft caramel hair. Such love filled me.
“Not at all. You gave an Academy Awarding–winning performance, and to show for it, we are going to have another little trophy next year.”
“What?” Nick sat straight up, startling our son and daughter.
Nicky started to cry while Skye sat up like a drunken sailor, swaying and incoherent. “What’s going on?” She fell back on our bed and was out again.
I took Nicky out of Nick’s arms and gently lulled him while Nick stared at me wide-eyed. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. I was more than sure and surprised. We weren’t planning on another one so soon.
Nick shook his head and blew out a large breath. “How are you feeling?”
“Same as last time—good, but tired.”
While the news sunk in, he ran his hands through my hair and over my bare shoulders, taking me in with his eyes and touch. “I love you, Kate Wells.” He only used my full name when he was trying to convey the depth of his feelings for me.
It still took my breath away when he said it. “I know.”
“You probably should get some rest.”
“I will later.” I gave him my best wicked grin. “I’m a huge fan of your work.”