Chapter 19
Ellie
I wake up before the kids, which is rare. They’re usually up long before I’m ready to be alert. Jasper and I take turns sleeping in, but when I turn over, I see that he’s awake before dawn, too.
“Why are your eyes open at this ungodly hour?” he asks as he turns to wrap his arm around me.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“I’m thinking about your parents and hoping they’re okay.”
“They seemed good last night.”
“They did, but who knows what’s really going on behind the scenes?”
Sighing, I say, “I can’t bear to think of them as anything other than blissfully happy together.”
“Same. It’s hard to fathom that they could be dealing with something like this.”
“I keep putting myself in her place and asking how I’d feel about it.”
“I can see both sides. Can you?”
“Definitely. Daddy would’ve wanted to protect her from something that could hurt her, but keeping an earlier marriage from your wife is a big deal.”
“He did it for all the right reasons. She’ll see that once she has a minute to process it.”
“I hope so. Maybe we can take the kids over to visit them today.”
“They might want a minute alone.”
“I’ll ask them what they prefer.”
“In the meantime, it’s a rare moment we have here, awake before the kiddos.”
Those words, said in that accent, still do it for me after years of waking up to him next to me, of listening to him say the most mundane things in the most beautiful way… It never, ever gets old.
“What?” he asks, puzzled by the way I’m looking at him.
“I’m thinking of how lucky I am to get to listen to you say… well… everything in that accent.”
“My love is such a slut for the British accent.”
I laugh because that’s entirely true. All he has to do to get my motor running is to whisper something filthy in my ear—or even something as simple as the grocery list—and I’m a goner. “I’m a slut for your accent and yours alone. It does it for me. You do it for me.”
“Likewise, my darling.”
“Nice how that worked out, huh?”
“Nicest thing in my whole damned life. You and our sweet babies.”
He kisses me, and I quickly pull back. “I should brush my teeth.”
“Let’s not risk missing our moment, darling.”
He’s right… That moment is fleeting at best. My husband is excellent about moving things along, especially since we sleep in only enough clothing to be decent if our kids need us during the night. Which means not much.
“Remember when we used to spend hours doing this?” he asks as he slides into me and takes my breath away as usual.
“Hmmm, vaguely. It’s been a while.”
“We need a getaway by ourselves one of these days.”
“Whenever we do that, we come home early because we miss them.”
“We have to get over that.”
“Not there yet. You?”
Laughing, he leaves a trail of fire on my neck and then bites down on my earlobe. “Nope.”
“They say we’ll have time to ourselves again when they move out.”
“How many years will that be?”
“Matilda is almost three, so fifteen?”
His grunt of annoyance makes me giggle. “I’ll be old and impotent by then.”
“Don’t even say that! I need you to service me until we’re old and gray and too feeble to care.”
“I’ll service you, my darling, as often as I possibly can.”
“And if you could say stuff like that every single day, that’s all I need to be happy.”
“You’re easy to please.”
“Only because I get to listen to you for the rest of my life.”
“Most women can’t stand the sound of their husband’s voice.”
“I’m not most women, and you’re definitely not most men. All my friends are jealous that I get to listen to my life in a sexy British accent.”
He rolls his eyes, slides deeper into me and holds still, which drives me nuts—as he knows all too well.
I moan with frustration and push against him, urging him to move things along.
The monitor on the bedside table sparks to life with a squeak from our little girl.
Jasper shifts into high gear and gets us both to the finish line just as we hear a rumbling from Harry.
“Well done, my love,” I whisper as we hear giggling down the hall. The first thing they do each morning is find each other. Then they come for us.
He gives me one last tight squeeze before we disentangle. “If I forget to tell you later, this is already the best day of my life.”
Even though he says that every day, the words go straight to my heart like always. He’s so thankful for the life we have together, the life he fought to have when he stood up to his father’s blackmail and cruelty. That seems like a long time ago now, but neither of us will ever forget the epic battle we waged, with the support of my family and our friends, to have this life.
“It’s the best day ever because I get to spend it with you and our babies.”
He leans back to kiss me, and we have all the important parts covered when the kids come blasting into the room with our dog, Randy, in hot pursuit. The minute Harry was born, Randy threw me over for my son. They’re best friends forever. Randy is so protective of both kids that I don’t mind losing him to them.
Both kids and the dog bomb into bed with us, bringing hugs, kisses, sharp elbows and dog breath to our morning.
I look over at Jasper, who has Matilda in his arms, and catch the smile he directs my way.
Despite my ongoing concern about my parents and the state of their marriage, I settle into another best day ever with my beloved husband, our precious kids and our fiercely loyal Randy.
Flynn
We’re treated to an early wakeup by Bennett, who comes to with a squeak that ranks right up there with the cutest things I’ve ever heard. He rarely screams or cries the way his siblings did as babies. Rather, he uses that delightful little noise to let us know he’s awake, wet and hungry.
“Let me,” I tell Nat as I give her a kiss and leave her to sleep for another ten minutes while I get him up from the portable crib and changed so she can provide the breakfast portion of the program.
After being up far too late making love to my wife, I yawn my way through the whole thing, while he’s bright-eyed and grinning, his legs moving as if he’s running a marathon or some such thing. “Someone is full of beans today.”
He smiles, gurgles, squeaks and kicks with a determination that cracks me up. If he doesn’t turn out to be a star soccer player or football kicker, I can’t imagine what they’re like as babies.
I’m still surprised by how natural fatherhood feels to me. When we were expecting Cece, I was afraid I’d be more of a liability than an asset to Nat due to the pampered, privileged life I’d led up to that point. I was the youngest kid with three older sisters who doted on me as much as my mom and Ada did.
Those worries turned out to be pre-fatherhood jitters. When that baby girl needed something that only her mother or I could provide, I found a deep reservoir of capability I never knew was there. She also brought the kind of joy that made all my previous life accomplishments seem insignificant by comparison.
Fatherhood is my favorite thing yet, other than being Natalie’s husband, that is.
“Are you ready to conquer the day, Benny Boy?”
Gurgles, kicks and squeals are his answer to my question.
I pick him up and carry him to his mother, kissing her bare shoulder. I’m not sure if it’s the kiss or the squeak that rouses her, but she comes to with a startle, pushing her glorious hair back from her lovely face and smiling at us, happy to see us even after sleeping about three hours in total.
We’d both tell you it was worth it to have that time alone.
At least I hope she thinks so. We’ll be dragging ass at Marlowe’s party later.
She reaches out to take the baby from me. “Is my little man hungry?”
“He’s hungry and full of energy this morning.”
“How did the two of us give birth to four morning people?”
“I hear they’ll become more like us around twelve or thirteen.”
She guides Bennett’s little mouth to her breast. “Will we survive until then?”
I’m endlessly fascinated—and aroused—by the sight of my wife feeding our babies. Hayden and I have talked about how it’s the most amazing thing we’ve ever seen and that we never get tired of watching, even when our wives tell us to get another hobby.
“What’s so funny?”
I stretch out in bed next to them. “How much Hayden and I love watching the breastfeeding and how you and Addie tell us to get another hobby.”
“Four babies each, and the two of you are still perving on the breastfeeding.”
“It never gets old to us.”
“Believe me, we know. Addie and I have talked about you weirdos.”
“Sticks and stones, babe. We’re crazy in love with our wives and watching them mother our babies is hot as fuck.”
“Don’t swear in front of your son.”
“He has no idea what that means.”
“He’s learning every minute of every day, and we want him to learn the right things. I believe this is the fourth time we’ve had this same conversation.”
I fan my face. “And when you chastise me…”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Not for four more hours. Want me to order breakfast?”
“Yes, please, and coffee.” She allows herself one cup a day when breastfeeding.
“Coming right up.”
When I return to the bed, Natalie shows me her phone so I can watch the video Candace sent of what’s going on at home. All three kids are piled on top of Olivia in the middle of the playroom floor, and my sister-in-law is loving every minute of it. “Looks like business as usual at home.”
“Yep, only you’re not the one at the bottom of the pile.”
“Is it weird that I miss being at the bottom of their pile?”
“I think it’s normal, even if it’s weird, too.”
“How can we yearn for a break from them and miss them so much, too?”
“That’s parenthood for ya.”
We enjoy breakfast in bed, playtime and then a nap when Bennett falls back to sleep between us. Last night, I set an alarm for eleven, just in case I needed it, and when it goes off, I quickly silence it and head for the shower.
I’m determined to take care of this business with Vivian for my parents and get home in time for the Christmas party at Marlowe and Sebastian’s later on. We take turns hosting an annual before-Christmas gathering so we can exchange presents with the kids ahead of our trip. Only the Santa gifts get shipped to St. George, which simplifies things a bit.
As I shower, shave and get dressed, I’d much rather think about the traditions our “family” has established over the years and how much I enjoy them than ponder the stakes of this meeting with Vivian Stevens.
In my nearly twenty years in the business, we’ve never crossed paths, which is unusual in this town. Perhaps that was intentional on her part because of who my father is. Or maybe it was because my star was ascending while hers was on the way down.
I hate the way our business treats aging women, often discarding them for a younger, flashier version with a cruel ruthlessness. Some women, like my mother, manage to hold off the ravages of time and extend their careers later into their lives. Vivian wasn’t one of those women. Time did a number on her once-flawless face, and when her looks caught up to her age, she was pushed aside like so many others before her. Until my father told me about her memoir the other day, I hadn’t seen or heard anything about her in years and hadn’t given her a thought in all that time.
I heard what Natalie said yesterday about being mean to an older woman, and I get where she’s coming from. I won’t let her think I want to work with her. But I’ll do what’s necessary to protect my parents. If that means threatening to destroy whatever comeback she thinks might happen because of her memoir, I’ll do it.
Rarely do I feel the need to be ruthless to get what I want. That’s not how I operate. My father would’ve kicked my ass from one end of Sunset Boulevard to the other if he’d heard I was behaving that way. It’s never been my style. However, nothing has ever threatened my parents or their marriage the way this potential bombshell has and still could.
That means the gloves come off, if necessary.
I hope it doesn’t come to that.
I call down to the valet to ask to have the car delivered to the main entrance.
“Right away, Mr. Godfrey.”
“Thank you.”
At eleven thirty, I grab the copy of the NDA, leave Nat and Ben sleeping and put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. Natalie arranged for a late checkout, so they won’t be bothered.
In the elevator, I send her a text. Heading to Vivian’s. Will text you when I’m on the way back. Last night was everything. I love you.
As I come off the elevator, I see the car is already there, so I keep my head down, hoping I won’t be recognized as I make my way to the door. I hear the usual buzzing that happens when people realize it’s me, but I don’t look up or deviate from my destination.
I slip a twenty into the hand of the valet who hands me my key and make a smooth getaway, releasing a sigh of relief as I pull away from the hotel. At a stoplight, I put Vivian’s address into the GPS. I know the general location of where she lives, but the directions will save me some time.
With AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” playing on the Bluetooth, I turn up the volume while there’re no young ears to protect. The song is a fitting anthem for the night I had with Natalie. I have a few aches and pains today that remind me I’m going to be forty in three days.
Forty .
Like, how in the actual fuck did that happen when I still feel like I’m twenty-five? Most of the time, anyway. After getting it on with my wife for half the night, I feel every minute of my forty years.
I’d much rather be the age I am now than go back to when I was younger. I’m happier today than I’ve ever been, married to the woman of my dreams, settled into a deeply satisfying family life and career. I can be choosy about the projects I take on and arrange the rest of my life around my wife and kids.
Life is good, better than it’s ever been now that Bennett has joined us, and we have two daughters and two sons to watch grow up.
I honestly couldn’t ask for anything more than I already have.
In that sense, turning forty isn’t so bad. Besides, I’ll be in good company. Hayden, Emmett, Marlowe and Kris are right there with me, Jasper’s already forty-one, and my sisters are in their forties, too.
If anything, this milestone birthday is a reminder of how fast the time goes by and how important it is to live each day to the fullest. Thanks to my wonderful family and amazing friends, I do that most days.
Today feels oddly off, stressful in a way I haven’t felt since Nat was in labor with Ben. Though my wife was a warrior all four times, I’d heard enough about what could go wrong to be riddled with anxiety until baby and mother were declared safe and healthy each time.
I don’t want to be driving to Vivian Stevens’s home to present her with an ultimatum. I’d rather be doing a lot of other things with a lot of other people. However, I’m glad my dad asked me to take care of this rather than trying to do it himself or sending Emmett, who would’ve happily taken care of it for him. It’s better that I go, and that I’m alone, so it won’t seem like we’re ganging up on her.
That’s not the goal here. The only thing I care about is protecting my parents and their hard-earned reputations. I’d be surprised if there’s a bigger bombshell contained in her book than her marriage to Max Godfrey. That would’ve been a big enough story with them involved, but add me to the equation, and it becomes a much bigger deal.
And yes, I despise that aspect of celebrity. Each time one of our babies was born, we had to have an entire team of people fending off the media at the hospital and at home. The photo we released on Instagram of us holding the new baby’s hand and announcing his or her name was never enough for them. They wanted more and were willing to stalk new parents to get it.
After Scarlett was born, Emmett sued one outfit for invasion of privacy and intentional infliction of emotional distress, not that it stopped them for long. With Bennett, they didn’t even get the Instagram photo, and we still haven’t publicly revealed his name. Let them wonder.
I pull up at the gate to Vivian’s home and press the button, expecting to have to give my name, but the gate swings open to admit me.
Her home is a Spanish-style, two-story structure with a fountain in the middle of the circular driveway. By the rusty look of the fountain, it hasn’t worked in quite some time. As I approach the front steps, the door opens, and Vivian herself is there to greet me, wearing a flowing floral caftan. Her dark hair is fully styled, and her makeup is artfully done but can’t hide the truth. Her skin looks like tissue paper that was wadded up and then smoothed over.
“What a pleasure to have such a delightful visitor.”
“Thank you for seeing me.”