Epilogue
The early morning light filled the room with an ethereal glow as I laid in bed enjoying the view. A view I’d memorized over the years—from the billboards on Sunset to the glittering ocean in the distance—I knew every nuance.
The same way I knew David.
The same way he knew me.
It’d been eleven years since our wedding. And just over ten years since that night at the Gala. The night we cemented our future plans.
David had immediately taken to working with me. Being my partner in all areas of our life. And he was good at it. Really good.
A familiar tribal chant blared through the house, shattering my peaceful laze. Thinking of the responsible party, a smile broke across my face.
He’s a mess. A sweet, beautiful mess.
A soft grown slipped past my lips as I climbed out of bed, my body still sore from David’s late night passion. Picking up my jersey robe from where David had tossed it the night before, I wrapped it around me, tying it tight before leaving the room.
The classic Blue Swede song was contagious as I made my way down the hall, grooving to the rhythm.
When I entered the great room, I smothered a laugh, finding three bodies moving to the beat as well.
David had moves, there was nothing funny about that, but Tansy and Witt had to be the most adorable creatures I’d ever seen.
And David and I had created them.
Witt Taylor had been a big oops. Huge oops. When we finally decided to have a child six years ago, David and I had already been working together for four years. Working together had made him understand how demanding my career was, how demanding our filming schedule was. So we’d opted for a gestational surrogacy, knowing being pregnant and getting back into on-screen shape in time for the next season would be too daunting.
Three months after finding out the surrogates implantation was a success—Tansy had been conceived—I turned up pregnant too.
“I wanted ice cream and waffles,” Witt complained.
“You’re such a baby,” Tansy admonished, condescendingly.
“You are only three months older than me,” Witt responded, defiant as always.
Witt was a mini David. Demanding, bossy, and always wanted to know everything. Dark brown hair and those soulful dark eyes. He already had little muscles too.
Witt was also responsible for the music filling the house. He had decided he was going to be a rock god, his words not mine. So David had encouraged him to start studying the evolution of rock and roll, hence, the loud music at six a.m. It had been going on for almost a year; my hope of it being a fad was quickly dying.
Figured a girl with a no athletes or rock stars rule would end up married to one and raising the other.
“Ice cream and waffles are for the weekend, you know that.” David’s deep voice carried over the music.
I watched, entranced by David, as he moved around the kitchen. He was more gorgeous than when we met. His muscles were more defined, if not bigger. His thick, dark brown hair nearly grazed his shoulders, accentuating his dark scruff and eyebrows. He’d let his hair grow out, from laziness more than style, but it was sexy as hell. And Witt had insisted on copying his father—as always.
David had only become more protective of me since having children. He had a valid reason though—at least he thought so. After a very difficult pregnancy, I’d suffered severe postpartum depression. I’d spent the first two years of the kids’ lives in and out of a treatment facility. And during the season... let’s just say my mom and Helena did most of the raising the first two years.
In someways it felt like I’d lost those two years. I mean, I’d known I loved my children, I’d known I loved David, but it was an illusive thing. I had known it was there, but I couldn’t connect to it.
That invisible wall David had torn down had returned, tenfold. No matter what I tried, I hadn’t felt like I belonged with them. I’d felt like an outsider in my own home. I didn’t have anything to offer them—that’s what I thought—that they would’ve been better off without me.
I’d never felt so inadequate in my life.
Despite my best efforts to hide it, David had noticed immediately, and I was in treatment within six weeks of giving birth to Witt.
David had insisted on staying with me. Whether I was in treatment or at work, David was with me, literally.
As awful as the experience had been, it’d made us stronger as a couple. David and I were closer than ever.
“Childish response,” Tansy dismissed.
“Tanz,” David warned quietly.
“It was, and I’m calling dibs on decorating Mom’s trailer.” Then she added forcefully, “And I’m coming to set everyday.”
“We’ll see,” David hedged.
Neither of us wanted them hanging out on set. Fortunately, their schedules were fairly full, keeping them both busy most of the day.
Aside from the gym, we’d taken a break from working the past three years, trying to make up for time lost with Tansy and Witt, and each other. That was until six months ago, when I started writing again. Two weeks ago, Jeff had helped us pitch it to a major network. We were starting production in two months. I would be writing and directing, David and Jeff were producing.
“Then I’m going too,” Witt complained.
“Guys.” David’s voice was patient as always. “You’re makin’ a lotta plans for Grams. Have you even asked her?”
My mom lived in the guest house. She had come out to LA as soon as I started having trouble during the pregnancy. Then she sold her businesses to stay and raise my kids—doing our job. I owed her everything. And Helena had become a full-time presence in our lives as soon as we brought Tansy home.
“Sweet girl,” he purred without even turning to me, ending my spying. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
Padding over to the end of the kitchen island, I leaned against the counter. “I thought I’d take these two monkeys in today.”
David’s gaze cut to me, an amused smirk on his face. “Nice try. Get back in bed.”
I scrunched up my face, sticking my tongue out at him.
Shaking his head, he laughed.
David and Fergus had been sharing school pick-up and drop-off for three months, ever since our ever-helpful son asked, “Dad, is Mom more famous than you? Because all the other dad’s and guy teachers follow us to talk to her when she walks us in and picks us up, but they don’t do that to you.”
“It’s not all of them,” Tansy had corrected, matter-of-factly.
David hadn’t been amused.
He’d never said anything to me about it, but he’d never passed up an opportunity to make a possessive claim on me. The following morning, he insisted on coming with us to the school, making a point. Whether to me or the too friendly fathers, I wasn’t sure. But he hadn’t let me go back up there without him.
“Go back to bed, Mom,” Witt chimed in. “Dad said, and he’s the boss of you.”
My eyebrows lifted, Tansy and I looked at each other in disbelief, then said in unison, “No, he’s not.”
Wrapping a thick arm around me, David pulled me around the island to him. Pressing up against my back, trapping me between him and the counter and whispered in my ear, “I’m the boss where it counts.”
“Ewww, go to your room,” Witt groused.
There was no way he heard David, not over the music.
“I’m getting Fergus to take us, you guys are going to sex it up,” Tanz muttered, already texting Fergus.
“Hey,” David scolded halfheartedly. Then pressed his lips behind my ear, murmuring, “That’s your fault.”
Tansy was definitely my mini-me. If her attitude didn’t prove it, her long brown hair, bright green eyes, and little bubble butt sealed the deal. She was independent, smart, mature, and knew what she wanted. Witnessing her grow, trying and learning new things, was helping heal something inside me. I couldn’t quite explain it, but I think Witt had the same effect on David. They helped our scars heal in a way nothing else could.
We still had that darkness in us, and we still enjoyed exploring it sexually, but that underlying rage in us had softened.
“What can I say? Like mother like daughter,” I teased, though I had no idea where she picked up that cheesy phrase.
David pulled away, plating our breakfasts. He had made pancakes for the kids and omelets for us. He was a natural husband and caretaker, I was till in awe.
And when David was with Witt and Tansy... I’d never felt anything like it before. Every time it made my heart swell to overflowing. I’d never seen anyone so protective of their children. He physically shielded all three of us when we went out in public, preventing anyone from getting photos of the kids. None of the paparazzi had been able to get a clear shot of them, yet.
Just then the song changed, “Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone. There was definitely a theme going on.
Bracing my hands on the counter, I asked skeptically, “Is this your playlist, bud?”
Jutting his chin out, he replied, “Yes, I’m mixing the sixties and seventies.”
Witt was bobbing his head to the beat as Tansy started dancing in her seat, I couldn’t help but join in.
David grabbed my hand, getting my attention. He was using the spatula as a mic, lip singing to me, doing the old school step and slide.
A laugh bubbled up out of me.
That was the only thing about David that had changed after having the kids. He’d become more playful, more relaxed, more secure about his place in my life. And he looked sexy as fuck doing it.
He must have seen it in my eyes, because the next thing I knew, he pulled me into his hard chest, picked me up and twirled me around.
Moments later we heard Tansy announce, “Fergus is here.”
David stopped mid-twirl as Tansy and Witt both hopped out of their seats.
“Hey, Tanz,” I called from my perch in David’s strong arms. “What about your breakfast?”
Tansy grabbed a pancake, putting a glob of peanut butter on it, holding it up as she rolled it like a burrito. “All set,” she sassed over the music, picking up her bag and racing to the front door. Her brother right behind her.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his hand sliding over my ass, down to the hem of my robe, slipping underneath, maneuvering between my legs, cupping my bare mound from behind. “So sexy. So perfect. You’re my whole fucking world, and you’ve given me everything I ever wanted.”
He was so sincere, my throat tightened with emotion.
“I love the fuck outta you,” I murmured.
“Mmm, that’s my line, Mrs. Taylor.” Then he growled, “Now where were we?” He looked up as if trying to remember as his fingers tapped along my seam. “Oh, that’s right. Come and get your love,” he purred.
Setting me on my feet, he asked in his seductive rasp, “How do you want it?” He leaned down, capturing my lips in a sweet kiss. “Rough?” Another soft brushing of lips. “Sweet?” The next kiss lingered. “In the ass?”
He expression heated, his gaze turning predatory.
I took a step back. “What about breakfast?”
“It’s in the warming drawer.” He stalked forward. “Rough it is.”
Darting around the kitchen island, a squeal of excitement escaped me as I ran toward our bedroom.
He caught me just as I reached the bedroom, scooping me up and tossing me on the bed like I weighed nothing.
I watched as he turned to lock the door, the muscles in his broad back shifting as his ass flexed under his low-hanging shorts.
That man had given me everything. Been everything whenever I needed it. And I had never loved anyone more. Our lives hadn’t been perfect.
Hell, we were far from perfect, but we were perfect for each other. Together we were whole.