The Gideon Affair (42 page)
He’d followed through on his promise to spend their wedding night far from civilization, driving their aptly named ride away from the house where they could get their sexy times on in complete privacy.
That part had been … memorable. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that it was not erotic as fuck to get naked out in nature and make love under the open sky with the moon shining and stars twinkling overhead.
A lot had happened since that day. The Montana location shoot had been the best way to start their married life. It was a magic time. Although being nominated for any acting award was a surprise when his performance in the old-school cowboy movie earned him several coveted nominations, he wasn’t too terribly stunned. That had been the happiest time of his life up till then. If his acting had been award-worthy, it was because of Paige and the joy she brought to everything.
L.A. was still L.A. and the Gideon Affair, as they’d dubbed everything and anything associated with their lives in the business, would always be what it was. But beyond that was a different story entirely.
Paige and his brother started working together from the start. Edward still didn’t understand one word of what those two blathered on about when they were discussing properties, and as long as he lived, he’d probably never fully grasp what the fuck it was that Marsh did exactly but, whatever. They’d started slow and within six months had opened the first of Paige’s planned family style B&Bs. In Oklahoma near her parents. Might seem like an odd location choice, but his wife’s broad vision was quite savvy. Almost completely ignoring the big name family destinations like Disney and Branson, she went about things differently. Every state had attractions that families visited. Amusement parks, monuments, all kinds of places. She started there. Oklahoma was a great example with the National Cowboy Museum, the Will Rogers Memorial, and the Oklahoma City Memorial site. She and Marsh took a decaying Victorian style house and turned it into something spectacular. Hiring a grad student from the university to run the place, it had everything his wife dreamed of. Family size suites. A game center and a craft room. A basketball court doubled for net games like badminton and volleyball. The large yard was set with small gathering places, a gazebo, picnic benches, and a conversation pit. Every day except Sunday, at four o’clock on the wide brick patio, tea was served along with cookies and milk for the kids. Her mom was close by and had taken on a sort of unofficial manager role, dropping in on a regular basis to see how things were going. In fact, she was there so much and had been such a surprising help that Paige was having an office set up at the mansion.
Speaking of her mom, Edward bit the bullet big time where Rose was concerned. During a short break in filming, they’d flown in for a visit not long after the wedding. It was a quickie, just three days, but it had to be done. And just like he promised, he went to her Scrap Queens get-together bringing a box of craft supplies that made the other ladies drool. But the stroke of pure genius that bonded him to his mother-in-law forever? He’d also brought a pile of photographs from the wedding to scrapbook. No pictures had ever been released—Edward wouldn’t allow it—so sharing such private moments, while Rose’s gaggle of women friends studied them intently, made him an instant hero and her new best friend.
So, yeah. It had all been good. He was a lucky bastard.
Checking his watch, he tapped his foot impatiently. What was taking her so long? This was one of life’s eternal mysteries—what women did in the bathroom and why it took so damn much time.
He chuckled softly. Being married was just the coolest thing. Like ever. Paige made it quite an adventure. Oh, they had their moments.
Every couple does
, he thought remembering a spectacular blowout that ended with her storming out and him yelling like a maniac as she drove away in a huff. The conflict lasted an hour at best, and after some randy make-up fucking, they agreed that going forward, they both couldn’t be crazy at the same time. So far, so good.
He got up and ambled mindlessly about their bedroom. They’d ditched the beach house as soon as they returned to L.A. from Montana. With Marsh’s property expertise at their beck and call, they’d purchased a newly renovated home dating from the 1870s that had it all. Four bedrooms in the main house plus private in-law quarters on a two-acre lot far enough from L.A. proper that no one bothered with them. In short, the perfect place to start a family.
“Come on, wife. We’re going to be late,” he called out. He knew it wouldn’t make any difference. She’d appear when ready and not one second before.
A script was tossed on the low table set between two armchairs where he and Paige often relaxed together. Having the quaint ambiance of a fireplace in their bedroom made this one of their favorite spots. Eyeing the script, he felt … nothing. And that was probably the biggest change to come into his life.
Oh, he was still an actor by all accounts, but something shifted inside him when all that fuckery happened before they got married. The surprise awards had given him the status. Though he’d worked on a couple of projects, mostly he placed distance between his real life and what he did. Paige had turned over her Team Shaw duties to Caro, who it turned out was more than just some changing hair color. There was that and the way his new PA handled Marsh. Those two got on like oil and water, but only a blind man couldn’t see the underlying attraction between the two. As far as that part of the tale goes … to be continued.
Mostly, when it came to working, he was in neutral. It wasn’t so much that he had a dim view of the business and more like he’d just outgrown it. His life was so much more than what project he had going on and how many hits his name generated on social media.
This, right here, was his happily ever after. Sometimes, it really was as simple as that. He didn’t need drama and attention. There were no shady dealings or lunatic stalkers shadowing their happiness. He didn’t need rehab, and if he never saw his name in the gossip rags ever again, wouldn’t boo hoo over it.
Playing make believe was still exciting, challenging, and yes, damn hard, but the last eighteen months had shown him that there was so much more. You never knew where your happiness would come from—you just had to hang in there and have faith.
He had, and he did. And look where he was …
Five more minutes of rambling thoughts and then he gave in. Marching to the bathroom door, he knocked softly.
“Sweetheart. Everything okay?”
Nothing. Not a sound. Hmmm.
Carefully opening the door, he peeked first hoping not to catch her at an inopportune moment. He found her sitting on the toilet—thank god the lid was closed—clutching her stomach and doubled over with her head almost hanging between her legs. Fright and worry shot into him as he burst in.
Dropping to her side, he asked questions in a rapid-fire hurry.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you hurt?”
“You aren’t crying, are you?”
“Baby, talk to me.”
She raised her head and met his gaze. She wasn’t crying so much as glowing. Only with unmistakable tears sparkling in her eyes. He was relieved that blood wasn’t pouring from her eyes because, in that second when he found her in distress, every horrific scenario he could imagine burst into his mind.
Trying to speak, she sort of gasped and moved her mouth but nothing came out. Making matters worse for him, she was visibly shaking and hadn’t stopped grabbing her middle.
He jumped to his feet shouting, “I’m calling for help.” He’d never known such panic in all his life. Not even on the battlefield.
Her hand shot out, and she slapped him on the leg, gesturing for him to give her a minute. Finally, when he was sure his head was about to explode with fear, she looked up at him and smiled.
Then she held out a hand that was gripping something white, waving it so he could see. What? What was he supposed to be seeing?
His hands went numb as all the blood rushed from his head. If she didn’t say something soon, he was going to hit the floor.
“Sweetie,” she choked out as a big fat tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”
He either fell to his knees or all the wind was knocked out of his sails because there he was, kneeling in front of her as they both stared at the white stick.
“Holy fuck.”
She smiled.
“Holy fuck.”
Her smile got bigger.
“I’m going to be a father!” he yelled. “Oh, my god, Paige. For really real?”
She grinned and nodded. Good lord. They’d made a baby together.
His eyes snapped to hers. “If it’s a boy, there’s no goddamn way we’re naming him Gideon.”
She giggled, then chuckled, and then roared with laughter.
“I love you,” was all she said.
Yeah. Sometimes it was just a simple happy ever after.
THE END
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Suzanne Halliday
writes what she knows and what she loves – sexy adult contemporary romance with strong men and spirited women. Her love of creating short stories for friends and family became a passion for writing romantic fiction with a sensual edge. She finds the world of digital, self-publishing to be the perfect platform for sharing her stories and also for what she enjoys most of all – reading. When she’s not on a deadline you’ll find her loading up on books to devour.
Currently a wanderer, she and her family divide their time between the east and west coast, somehow always managing to get the seasons mixed up. When not digging out from snow or trying to stay cool in the desert, you can find her in the kitchen, 80’s hair band music playing in the background, kids running in and out, laptop on with way too many screens open, something awesome in the oven, and a mug of hot tea clutched in one hand.
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