Indiscreet by Nicole French

32

It took several days for people to stop showing up unannounced to the house. They came to bring casseroles and good wishes, but also to get a look at the famous man chopping more wood for the winter down by the dock. To his credit, Will didn’t leave. He stayed close, working on the houses, helping me get the property ready for winter.

One man stayed, though, and came a few more times over the next few weeks: James Edelman. Though both of us were fairly certain he was my father, Will insisted on paying for a DNA test to make sure.

“You can’t be too careful,” he said after we left the doctor’s office.

I didn’t argue. I now understood all too well the way people came out of the woodwork to target someone like Will, and by extension, me. James was nice. Quiet, and kind of shy. I liked him a lot, and we immediately bonded when I showed him my Martin. He didn’t seem to care in the slightest who Will was—honest, he didn’t even seem to notice at all. Instead, we had stayed up, singing Johnny Cash songs around the fire together until I was so tired I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. We wouldn’t get the DNA results for a while, but at this point, I wasn’t sure I cared.

Fall had fully arrived on Newman Lake, seemingly overnight. The trees lining the south end—the maples, alders, and cottonwoods that stood high over the lily pads and tules, were now a rainbow of reds, oranges, and yellows. Every day, another flock of birds would disappear toward the south, and as soon as the sun set over the mountain, a needle-sharp chill would settle into our bones, the kind that required wool socks and a thick fleece once the sky turned dark.

Eventually, Callie and Benny went back to New York. Will would eventually have to return to LA for reshoots, which he’d managed to delay by a month in order to deal with the fallout of Theo’s death. Although they included parts with Amelia—according to Corbyn, their chemistry was absolute crap—Will had renegotiated that any scenes shot with her would be done with a mirror and a stunt double, to be CGI’d together in exchange for not pressing charges against her for drugging him.

Unsurprisingly, she had readily agreed to the terms.

Tricia, however, was another story. She tried more than once to contact her son through Benny, only to be stonewalled again and again. As much as I wanted Will to make peace with his mother, if only for his own sake, I could also see the plain truth. Whether it was because she had been corrupted by a world of money and fame or because she was, to the core, a terrible person, she was absolutely not someone who should be in Will’s life. I had never seen any indication that she valued her son as anything more than a commodity. And for that reason alone, I wanted her nowhere near us or our child.

Will felt the same. In fact, he felt so strongly that he wrote a letter to Vanity Fair to include with their article on him. The editor was so excited about the coup that she decided to turn it into a double feature: one on the reclusive former star (Will insisted on the word “former”), and the second on mothers of child actors, specifically Tricia Owens-Baker, who had leveraged her success with Will into an agency managing other child actors in Hollywood.

“Everyone should know what she really is,” he said as he mailed a copy of his letter to her apartment in New York. It would arrive on the following Monday, the same day the magazine landed on newsstands.

We spent the majority of the next few weeks cleaning out the house and cabins of Mama’s things, deciding which pieces I wanted to keep, store, or give away. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. How do you clean out someone’s life? How do you do it when it’s your own mother?

More than once Will had found me crying over a random photo or an old flannel shirt. And to his credit, he never turned away or tried to help me stop. He pulled me into his chest, clasped my head to his shoulder, and rocked me, whispering nothings until the tears abated and I could keep going.

Eventually, though, the house was cleared out and ready for new tenants. The carpet had been replaced, the bathtub re-caulked, the roof completely re-shingled. I had decided to lease the property to the Forsters as an extension of the inn. Lucas and his family would be good caretakers. I couldn’t stay in that house anymore.

Meanwhile, Will and I would head back to LA for the Green Lantern reshoots. Once that was finished we had several more months until the promotional tour began. I wouldn’t be able to go on the tour—by April of next year, I’d be hugely pregnant and certainly unable to fly around the world from city to city. Will warned me I’d better keep the kid in until he was done—he wasn’t missing the birth of our child, no matter what his contract said.

I stood at the edge of the dock, staring out at the lake, and pulled my thick sweater around me and inhaled the cool evening air. I was ready to leave. And this time, it wouldn’t be in a rush.

The heavy tread of footsteps on the dock alerted me to Will’s presence. A few moments later, I was wrapped in his arms. He smelled of soap and water, like he had just gotten out of the shower.

“So, what do you think?” Will whispered as we surveyed the lake together. “Where do you want to go first after LA? Ireland? Machu Picchu? There’s a lot we can do in six months, Lil.”

A few days ago when we had come up with a plan to travel between LA and his premiere dates, I was ecstatic. The idea of traveling the world with Will sounded like the best idea ever. He insisted I didn’t need to worry about money or anything—it would be our last big hurrah before the baby came. Little no-name. Whoever it was.

But now, the idea made me pull my sweater even tighter around my stomach. Will must have felt me withdraw slightly. The arms around my shoulders tightened, but he waited for me to speak.

“I…what if we don’t go?” I wondered quietly.

Will set his chin on my shoulder. “Why not?”

I stared out at the water, wondering at its mirrored surface. In it, I saw every moment in my childhood flash before my eyes, good and bad. I saw my first swim, the first time I ever caught a fish. I saw myself seeking refuge in the waves when my mother was in a particularly bad mood. I saw Lucas, Katie, and other friends, piled in boats and listening to country music. I saw myself sitting on the end of the dock, strumming a guitar with my toes in the water.

And then, of course, I saw Will. Those memories were more recent, but no less meaningful. I saw him climbing out of the water, sun sparkling in the droplets on his body. I saw myself tangled in the lilies, only the second time we met. I saw us falling in, desperate for each other’s kiss.

I saw it all. And as I watched, I wanted more.

“I don’t want to travel,” I said. “I want to find somewhere to stay. Will, our baby needs a home. I need a home.” I tipped up my head to look at him. “Don’t you?”

His quiet was louder than words. Much like the water, it was almost as if I watched our entire emotional history pass through those green eyes, lighting up the gold sparks in the center.

Then, at last, Will stood up straight, releasing me from his embrace. “Come with me,” he said, taking my hand. “I want to show you something.”

Instead of leading me back up the dock, he gestured toward the boat tied up to one side. A week ago, Will had surprised me when he’d sailed a tiny catamaran with a bright white sail to the house from the boat launch. It had become his nightly ritual, taking her out in the evenings, when the speed boats were done for the night. Sometimes I went, and sometimes I didn’t. But he always took me with him: her name was Lily Pad, painted right across the stern of one of the pontoons.

We sailed across the lake as night fell and the stars came out, Will perched on the back, manning the rudder and the sails, while I stretched out on the netting between the pontoons. I rested one hand lightly on my belly, which was still only a very slight swelling, but present nonetheless. The breeze off the lake fluttered my hair around my cheeks, and I closed my eyes, content.

Will tied up the boat at a familiar dock—the one surrounded by lilies, where I had gotten tangled only four months ago. Had it only been that long? The summer felt like it had lasted a lifetime.

“Here, babe,” he said as he held out his hand, guiding me onto the wood slats.

I looked around. The dock was different. I was used to it being decrepit and wind-worn, but the wood was newly stained, the sagging ends rebuilt, with shiny new buoys tied to the sides.

I turned back to Will. “What did you do?”

A smile appeared, boyish and bright. Only for me.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s more.”

He led me onto the bank, where the boathouse that used to hold a bunch of CrossFit equipment had been repainted and fit with a new lock. I followed him up the stairs to where his house was tucked into the hillside.

“Will…” I said, taking in all the changes.

“Wait,” he said as we walked. “There’s more.”

And there was. He took me on a tour of the newly refurbished property, which apparently he’d had completely redone while we were in LA during his filming. Gone were the peeling brown exterior and weathered deck—now it was a bright, welcoming white trimmed with a deep green that matched Will’s eyes, and the deck was painted to match. The outdoor kitchen had also been completely redone, the counter replaced with granite, and a grill, table and chairs, and lounge furniture taking up the space.

But the biggest change was the extra level that had been built on top of the house. Now it boasted an entirely new third story, with unobstructed views of the water.

“Holy shit,” I stammered as I stared up at it. “What did you…what did you do?”

“I took a chance,” Will said. “And I built us a home.”

He tugged on my hand, turning me to face him so he could take my other one. His thumb rubbed over my left ring finger, but he only smiled. My heart picked up a beat.

“Lil, this is for us,” he said. “And if you don’t like the changes I made, we can tear them down and start over.”

I gazed around. “I thought that security was too hard here.”

“It was. Which was why I had a fence and cameras installed too. The whole property is fenced in, and there’s a gate at the top of the driveway.” There was sadness in his voice, the disappointment that he couldn’t ever completely open us up to the world. Our son or daughter wouldn’t even know what it was like to run across the street to a friend’s house or walk around a neighborhood alone. That wasn’t going to be in our future.

But so, so much else was.

“Before Ellie passed…” Will paused, allowing that shadow to move by. “Before that, I thought we’d always come back here, you know? This place, where I met you…when I imagine home, Lil, it’s you. Just you.”

I turned back to him and cupped his face. “You are home to me too,” I told him, and was immediately rewarded with a wide smile. I kissed him, pulling him toward me so I could show him with my arms and mouth what words couldn’t ever cover.

When we broke apart, Will was out of breath and looked like he desperately wanted to find someplace private.

“All right,” I said. “Show me our new house.”

With shining eyes, Will unlocked the front door, which was brightly lit by the porch light. The main floor wasn’t changed much—still the same comfortable living room, the same large kitchen. But there was one major difference: photographs. Pictures of us over the past few months were everywhere. Some of them I recognized as paparazzi shots, others were from events we had attended, and a few from when we first met. I picked up one from the fireplace mantel.

“This is the photo that Lindsay took,” I said, recognizing the two of us curled together, smiling over the flames of the fire near the inn.

Will nodded. “I asked Lucas to get the file. I figured if the press could have it, shouldn’t we?”

I replaced the photo, my fingers lingering over the silver frame.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think so.”

“There’s more.”

I followed him downstairs, where, again, most of the rooms were still as before, with the exception of his bedroom, which had been emptied completely.

“This is for you,” he said, gesturing inside. “An office. A space to do whatever you want. Write music. Be alone. I figured you’d need a place of your own.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Sometimes I can be a bit of a handful.”

I snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

He smacked another warm kiss on my lips and snuck a handful of my ass, causing me to squeak. I nuzzled into him and looked around the room. “Thank you.”

He set his chin on top of my head. “It’s yours, Lil. Everything else. Come on, I want to show you the upstairs.”

“The studio is still here,” I said as I followed him back down the hall. I peeked into the room where I had once recorded a song for him, and afterwards, we had recorded ourselves making a different kind of music.

Will wrapped an arm around my shoulders, rubbing his stubbly cheek to mine. “Well, I figured you’re going to need it.”

I snorted. “Right. For what?”

“Well, after the world hears ‘Cavern’ in Green Lantern, I’m guessing you’re going to be in pretty high demand. Corbyn wants to use it in the trailer.”

I pushed out from under his arm and turned. “Come again?”

“Cavern” was the name of the song I’d recorded in LA before finding out about Mama. I had felt lost when I’d recorded it, and it certainly wasn’t finished. I hadn’t even asked about it, just assumed it had been swallowed up in the behemoth of Capitol Records.

Will grinned, and in the middle of his deep green eyes, the gold flecks in the centers sparked. “I hope you don’t mind. I got the recording after you left Capitol and passed it on to Corbyn. He didn’t know it was you, Lil, only that it was some fresh talent. But the second he heard it, he knew it needed to score the climax. He’s been chatting with Calliope all week––she’ll probably be calling later tonight with details about the contract.”

I slumped down the wall to my heels, suddenly faint. Was I hearing this correctly?

“Next week, when we’re filming, Corbyn wants you to work in the studio,” he said. “To assist Rob with the orchestra while they record this piece for the final scene of the movie.” Will squatted down next to me and placed a hand on my knee. “Lil, what is it? I thought you’d be happy.”

I pressed a hand to my chest “Oh, God. Oh…God. I can’t breathe.”

Will fell all the way to the floor and took my hand in his. “Babe, did I fuck up? Honestly, you can say no, Lil. We can call Corbyn right now and tell him you don’t want to have your song in a stupid superhero movie—”

“No!” I broke out. My song. In a movie. It was…it was almost too much. And more than I’d ever hoped for.

Are you a musician or a composer?

Rob’s question, asked so long ago, echoed in my mind.

Composer, I’d said. And now it was really true.

“Is this…is it real?” I wondered. “It seems too easy.” Even the best things in my life had always come hard.

As if he was reading my thoughts, Will pressed another kiss to my forehead and nuzzled me close. “I think that’s why they call it a break, babe,” he said. “And it’s high time you got yours.”

We sat there together in the hall for a moment, digesting the news, the house. The fact that we had a moment just to be together. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go.

Then Will stood and pulled me up beside him. “One more thing.”

He led me up the staircase that had been extended to the addition. The new third floor consisted of three large bedrooms, including a master on the far side, with its own large bathtub suite, and a king-size bed that looked out to the water.

“The other rooms are for the kids,” Will said as I looked around, taking in the off-white furniture, the wood floors. Everything was comfortable, but luxe.

I turned. “Kids?”

Will smiled and arched a blond brow. “You didn’t think we’d stop at one, did you?”

“You’re pretty presumptuous, Baker. Who says I want to have any more of your Goldilocks babies? How many extra are we talking here?”

“Not too many. Maybe four or five.”

My eyes about bugged out of my head. “Four or five?”

“Well, yeah. I figure now that we’ve gotten started, we should plan on probably one a year until your baby maker breaks down and—”

He couldn’t finish, in part because I was busy smacking him on the shoulder, but also because he was too busy laughing. And not just little, subdued chuckles, the way he used in front of a group or when we were out and about. Not just a bark, something that burst out of him before he could clamp it back. These were real, gut-wrenching belly laughs, the kind that came from his toes. The kind he couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to.

It was the best sound in the world.

“Oh, Jesus,” he wheezed before he broke down all over again. “Holy shit, Lil, your face! I thought your eyes were about to pop out of your head!”

“Well, you looked serious!” I squealed, which only caused him to break down in laughter all over again.

“Oh, Christ, Lil.” He slumped against the window, still holding his stomach. “You kill me, baby. You really do.”

I threw a pillow at him, which he batted away easily. “You’re wicked. You shouldn’t mess with a pregnant lady. Don’t you know that?”

Will quirked an eyebrow. “Honestly? You want to have one, or you want to have five? I don’t really care, Lil. We’ll do what’s right for us. I just want to start now.”

And with that, I was summarily scooped up and tossed onto the bed. Will practically jumped on top of me with another laugh, but his joy quickly turned to something else as my hands wrapped around his neck, and our lips found each other. He pulled off my t-shirt and then his own. A few moments later, we were both naked, skin pressed to warm skin as he caged me against the soft white bedding.

“These,” he whispered as his hands found my breasts. “Are getting bigger. Did you know that?”

I arched into his touch, enjoying the tingling of my nipples as his fingers played over them. “More sensitive too. My ass is growing too, if you hadn’t noticed.”

In response, a hand wormed playfully under my back and began pinching the exact part of my anatomy I’d mentioned.

“Oh, I noticed,” Will said in between kisses that left me breathless. “And I’m planning to take full advantage of it for the next seven months.”

Both hands slipped under me to do exactly that, and he sat up, rubbing himself over my moist center while he looked me over.

“You know you can’t actually get me pregnant now, right?” I said with a smirk as he began to slip inside. “Like, it’s already done. We’re good for a while.”

Will rolled his eyes, then fell back on top of me, hushing my comments with a kiss that wiped away all sarcasm. “Nobody says we can’t practice,” he murmured.

His mouth drifted reverently over my face, floating over my eyes, my cheeks, my lips. If this was practice, I wondered what he intended for the real thing. He slid inside, finding his place within me. The place that always welcomed him, molded to him.

“I love you,” I said opening myself fully.

“I love you,” Will whispered, his throat hoarse and full of emotion. His eyes were wide and full of awe. No traces of fear at all.

I smiled.

“I won’t tell,” I said as I wrapped my hands around his neck. “It will be our little secret.”

“That I love you?” Will wondered. “Please. I want to shout it to the whole damn world. There’s no need to be discreet.”