Gwynneth Ever After (24 page)

“It’s not that simple.”

“Humor me.”

She stared at him for a moment, then said quietly, “All right. We live thousands of miles apart, and the kids’ lives are here.”

That was easy.

“I’ll move.”

“Here? But your job – ”

“My job takes me all over the world as it is. It doesn’t matter where my base is, it matters where you and the kids are.”

“You’d move in with us? Into our house?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re used to something so much bigger. Fancier.”

“I love your home, and I’ll only love it more if you allow me to share it with you. Next problem.”

“You do so much traveling – ”

Easier still.

“Yes, and planes travel both ways. I can afford to cut back and be more selective about the roles I take. I’ll come home every chance I have, and you and the kids can visit the sets whenever possible. And when I do have to be away, I’ll call you every day – at least once a day. Other families make it work, and we can, too. Next?”

“My kids – ”

Easiest of all.

“I fell in love with them over the blocks, too,” he said.

He watched her slender throat convulse. Balling his hands into fists in his pockets, he made himself remain where he was, knowing she needed her space right now, needed to wrestle her demons by herself.

“You’re so often in the spotlight,” she offered now. “And I live so privately. The thought of having to be in the public eye – or my kids being there – ”

He’d have to partially concede that point.

“I can’t promise you the same level of anonymity you have now,” he said, “but I can promise that I’ll do my level best to keep my private life private. There will be some interest at first, of course, but the media has a short attention span. As soon as something more interesting comes along, we’ll be forgotten.”

“And the parties and premieres and publicity events?”

“Only if you want to.”

“And your friends – ”

“Will love you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

Gwyn chewed her lip so fiercely that he feared for its survival. Fresh tears threatened.

“What if you get bored with us?” she whispered.

He very nearly laughed aloud. “With your three? I have trouble imagining that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Sweetheart, all I know is that boredom is the very last thing you should worry about. From the moment I walked into your home, I felt like I was meant to be there. Like I’d been waiting for you and your kids my whole life. I belong with you, Gwyn. I belong with them. I
fit
.”

Her internal war raged on, the conflict clearly written across her features in the disbelief, hope, apprehension, and other emotions that passed too swiftly for him to even identify. Gareth allowed himself to straighten away from the counter and stroll toward her.

She watched him through tear-shiny eyes.

He stopped in front of her.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes and drew a breath that shuddered through her entire frame.

“A weekend would be so much easier,” she said.

“Probably,” Gareth agreed.

“But I always tell the kids that not everything in life is easy.”

“Very wise.”

She stayed silent for a moment. Then she opened her eyes. Her level, steady gaze locked with his, a tremulous hope forming in their depths as he watched. “Those must be quite the building blocks.”

“Oh?” Gareth suddenly found breathing difficult.
 

“I think they did it for me, too.”

Chapter 33

“You’re worrying again,” Gareth’s resigned voice broke into Gwyn’s reverie.

She turned from the patio window where she’d been pretending to watch the few, drifting, late-afternoon snowflakes, while in reality doing just what Gareth accused her of. Worrying. Again.
 

She accepted the cup of tea that he offered and smiled an apology. “Sorry, I just can’t help thinking...”

Gareth shook his head at her. “Haven’t you run out of problems yet?” he asked, but amusement tinged the exasperation in his voice and Gwyn knew that he wasn’t really annoyed.

Not yet, anyway.

After having been down this particular road several times over the course of the day, however, she wouldn’t blame him a bit for beginning to lose patience. And they still had all of tomorrow ahead of them.
 

Gareth parked himself beside her. He leaned a shoulder against the door frame, lifting his cup to sip his tea.

“Out with it,” he said.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s something. Out with it.”

“It’s a little thing, I know, but do you like camping?” she asked. “I take the kids every summer, but if you don’t want to – ”

“I love camping,” he assured her, then went on to list some of the many other objections she’d managed to raise so far. “I love biking, I love swimming, and I love hockey. I haven’t played baseball since Sean and I were kids, but I’m sure I can remember how, and what is this really about, Gwyn?”

She opened her mouth to deny an ulterior motive to her concerns, then snapped it shut again. There did seem to be an underlying theme, didn’t there? Camping, sports...all the kinds of things that – what?

That a father would do.

Oh.

“Gwyn?” Gareth prompted. “What is it, love?”

A little thrill ran through her at the sound of the endearment, threatening to sidetrack her – not unwillingly – into a whole other contemplation of the weekend’s unexpected turn of events.
Gareth loves me. He’s not leaving. He’s staying and –
 

She pulled herself firmly to heel. And what?

“Are you sure you’ve thought this thing through?” she asked him now. “I mean, really through. All the way through.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, deepening the laugh lines there. “I’ll bite,” he said. “How through is through?”

“My kids are still young, and they’ve never really had a man in their lives – especially Nicholas and Maggie. They’re going to want – they’re going to think – are you sure you want to be – ” She broke off, unable to put her children’s needs, her own deepest desire, into actual words.

She didn’t need to.

“A father?” Gareth asked softly. He reached out and tipped up her chin until their eyes met. Warm understanding and absolute certainty gazed back at her. “You have no idea how sure I am, darling Gwyn, or how much I’ve thought it through, over and over again.” Almost as an aside, he added in a mutter, “Believe me, I’ve been ready to take on this role for sixteen very long years.”

Relief swelled in her and she turned her face into his hand, pressing her lips to his palm. “It just seems like such a lot to ask,” she whispered.

He chuckled and, not for the first time in their acquaintance, replied, “You didn’t ask, remember? I offered.”

She smiled back at him and, with a new-found confidence and comfortable daring, moved in to nestle against him. “You’ll have to watch those offers,” she teased, “You may have noticed I’m accepting them more often. If you’re not careful, you’ll be in over your head.”

 
“Sweetheart, I was in over my head the moment you sat down beside me in that theater,” he said dryly. He took the cup from her and set it with his on the nearby fireplace mantel. “But if you’re in the mood to accept offers...”

He fitted his lean length against her, his hands possessive, his intent unmistakable. Gwyn’s body cooperatively turned to molten lava.

Part of her, however, held back. Something niggled at the edges of her consciousness.

“Why sixteen years?” she asked.

Gareth pushed aside her hair and pursued a trail with his lips along her shoulder, up her neck, to the base of her ear.

“What?” he murmured against her skin.

Shivering, she made a belated effort to pull back. His arms tightened, holding her to him. She pushed harder, leaning back to regard him.

“Gareth, I’m serious. You said you’ve been ready to take on fatherhood for sixteen years. Why that number?”

His body went still against hers.

“Did I say that?” he asked lightly. Evasively.

Alarm bells sounded in her brain, clamoring for her attention. Something wasn’t right. She pushed harder and almost stumbled when he released her without warning, without a fight.

“You know you did. What’s going on?”

Faster than she would have imagined possible, Gareth’s eyes turned bleak. He leaned against the patio door frame again, his arms crossed across him, one fist raised to cover his mouth. Pain slashed across his features.

Dark premonition loomed over her like some kind of vulture.

She waited.

Gareth’s arms ached for the feel of Gwyn’s body within their circle again, but he didn’t dare reach for her. Her pulling away had left a gaping wound he would have sworn he could feel bleeding. He couldn’t bear to feel her recoil like that a second time.

And she would if he tried to touch her right now. He saw it in her eyes, buried just beneath the slowly splintering trust in lake-blue depths. He drew a ragged breath. Deprived of her touch and faced with the demons of his own creation, his faith in their ability to weather the truth seemed suddenly, sickeningly naïve. Maybe if they’d had more time first; if they’d talked more, made love more...

But like this?

It’s too soon
.
We’re too new...we won’t survive this. Not yet. Not now.

But a single, careless, offhand remark had left him with no other choice.

He steeled himself. Tightened his fist. Ignored the heat radiating from Gwyn’s body in stark contrast to his own icy core.

“Gwyn, there’s something I haven’t told you – ”

The trill of a cell phone cut him off and made them both jump. Gareth sent a black look in the direction of the sound coming from the counter by the sink.

“That’s mine,” he said. “Sean’s the only one who has the number. I don’t think he’d call without a reason.”

Gwyn nodded. Not a flicker crossed her face to indicate her thoughts, but her careful stillness alone spoke volumes. His cousin’s timing could not have been worse.

The phone shrilled again.

“It might be about one of the kids.”

Gwyn nodded again. Her expression didn’t change.

He strode across the kitchen to where he’d left his phone beside the sink. Lifting the offending instrument, he jabbed the talk button in mid-ring.

“This had better be good,” he grated.

“Oh, it’s good, all right,” Sean’s voice drawled in return. “Amy’s here.”

Chapter 34

Gareth faced three challenges following his cousin’s words: breathing, comprehension, and incapacitating disbelief. He found himself clutching the countertop, not for support, but for a lifeline to reality – a physical reassurance that he was still somehow connected to earth.

“Say that again?” he said hoarsely.

“Amy is here.”

“Here where? In Ottawa?”

“Here in my apartment.”

“Right now?”

“I’m looking at her as we speak, cuz.” Sean paused, then added, “And it gets better.”

Gareth suppressed a groan. “Catherine?”

“The paparazzi.”

“Bloody hell.”

“My sentiments exactly. And probably most of my neighbors’. And airport security’s.”

He released his grip on the table and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Is she all right?”

“She’s shaken up, but I think she’ll survive. Those guys really are a bunch of sharks, aren’t they?”

“Tell me about it.” He’d always taken the paparazzi pretty much in stride, careful to protect his privacy while recognizing that they were an unfortunate part of the world in which he’d chosen to live, but the thought of those locusts swarming his unsuspecting and unprepared daughter...
 

His daughter
. He passed his hand over his jaw and tried to force his mind past stunned and into functioning again. His daughter was here. Less than two hours away. He inhaled deeply and turned, mustering his thoughts.

Gwyn stared back at him.

The wind left his lungs with an audible hiss for the second time.

Gwyn
.

Her eyes held his, filled with questions that made his gut clench. Bloody hell.

“You still there?” Sean asked.

Oh, what tangled webs we weave...

Setting his jaw, he resolutely turned away from the gaze he could no longer bear to hold. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m here. Tell me what happened.”

“Amy let slip some details to a friend in the hostel where she was staying in Cardiff. Turns out he wasn’t much of a friend. When the local press started nosing around, she decided to clear out while she could. She managed to catch an earlier flight, figuring she’d just surprise you, but the paparazzi beat her here. I got a call from airport security about an hour ago – ” Sean broke off as Gwyn’s cell phone, still on the counter beside Gareth, began its own musical trill. “Is that another phone?”