I’m curious as she leads me out of my bedroom and along the hallway, opening the door to another one of her guest rooms. My eyes widen as I take in the large room with a giant four-poster bed, walk-in closet, seating area with a fire and wall-mounted TV, and an en suite bathroom.
“This is our new room,” she explains. “I had renovators in a month ago to work on it. I got them to come on days when you weren’t here because I wanted it to be a surprise.” She spins around, holding my hands and peering up at me. “I know you’re worried this has made me have doubts. I won’t deny I’m really upset over everything and very worried about Easton, but it hasn’t changed how I feel about you. I meant it when I told you I was yours.” She leans her head on my chest, snaking her arms around my waist. “I love you, and I need you, now more than ever.”
“You have me. I’m going nowhere.” I scoop her up, cradling her against my chest. After closing the door, I walk to the bed, gently placing her under the covers. I slide in beside her, pulling her back against my chest. My arms go around her automatically because it’s as natural as breathing to me. “We have endured considerable challenges to get to this point, and it hasn’t broken us or destroyed what we have. Today was a shitshow, and I know you’re worried. I’m worried about telling Easton too. I’d rather the timing had been of our choosing, but he’ll be okay. He’s not losing anything. He’s gaining, and if he struggles to understand it, we will be there to comfort him and answer his questions.”
42
Dillon
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Vivien rubs her stomach, looking pale enough I believe it.
“I’m not feeling so great myself,” I truthfully admit, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “But we’ve got to do this. We can’t let him discover the truth any other way.”
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since that bitch of a waitress released her story, and things have escalated to scary levels. I’ve instructed my US attorney to slap her with a lawsuit too. California’s privacy laws are pretty clear, and you can’t record someone without their permission. I’ll enjoy taking whatever payment she received for selling us out and teaching her a valuable lesson.
A horde of paparazzi, reporters, and TV crews has camped on the road outside the house, making us feel like virtual prisoners. They can’t see anything from the road, so we’re protected once we stay here. The second we have to leave, it’s going to be crazy town. Our publicists are being inundated with requests for interviews. The only positive to come from that is we got agreement already from Oprah’s team, and our interview is being lined up for next week.
Social media is exploding with all kinds of wild theories and #Dillien is trending. Ash is gloating, a lot, over that, because she coined our ship name years ago in Dublin.
Reporters have even been bugging my parents, and I’m glad Ro is at home to handle it. He hired a couple of bodyguards to guard their house after a reporter drove right up to their front door, asking for a statement. These people have no morals and no shame.
I confiscated Vivien’s phone earlier because she was looking at some of the more lurid headlines and I could see she was twisting herself into even greater knots. She’s working hard to keep it together, but the strain is obvious. She had a FaceTime session with her therapist this morning, and I’m seeing that as a positive sign. Lauren and Jon are due home next week from Canada, and I know their presence will help too.
“We can do this.” I bring her hand to my lips, kissing her soft skin. “And you said you were planning on telling him after Christmas.”
“I was going to talk to you about that last night, before everything went down.”
“He’s as ready as he will ever be. I know you didn’t want it to upset him before Christmas, but it might help him get through it.”
“You’re right. I just hate being forced to do it today because of that bitch.” Her mouth pulls into a grimace, and her eyes burn with anger, like they do every time Aoife’s name is mentioned.
“She will regret it. I will make damn sure of that.”
“Good.” She throws her arms around me, kissing me hard on the lips. “I thought about it after you told me your plans. Briefly, I wondered if we should take the moral high ground and not go after her.”
I arch a brow, hoping she didn’t decide that because I really want to make Aoife suffer. Her actions have hurt the woman who will one day be my wife, and she has hurt my son.
Neither of us ever wanted to air our private lives in public. We knew there would come a time when we’d have to admit Easton’s parentage, but that should have been at a time of our choosing and a narrative of our choosing. She took those options away from us, and I will never forgive her. I want to make her pay. Maybe I’m a bastard for wanting to go after her, guns blazing, but I don’t care what anyone thinks of me.
You come after what’s mine, and I’ll fucking annihilate you.
“But I guess I’m not as magnanimous as I like to think I am because I want you to throw the book at her, Dillon. Make her pay.”
I grab her ass, crushing her to me. “This is why we’re so good together, and you can count on it, sweetheart.”
We kiss for ages, and it soothes something in both of us. “I love kissing you,” she says when we finally break apart.
“I love seeing your lips swollen with my kisses.”
She takes my hand, pushing her shoulders back. “Come on. Let’s go talk to our son. It’s time he knows the truth.”
We head out to the memorial garden with Easton because we thought this was the best way to keep Reeve’s memory alive while we break the news to him. East is holding each of our hands, and we’re swinging him between us. It’s a nice day, warmer than usual at this time of year.
“Are we going to talk to Daddy?” Easton asks when we enter the little garden.
“We need to talk to you, and we wanted Daddy close by,” Vivien says, looking like she’s close to passing out.
I lean in, kissing her brow. “Breathe, Hollywood. We’ve got this.”
I position Easton in between us on the bench, wrapping my arm around them.
“What’s up, guys?” East says, and his sass helps to lighten the tension a little.
“We have something important to tell you,” I say, “and it concerns your daddy and me.”
“Okay.” His nose scrunches.
“You remember I told you how babies were made,” Vivien says, taking his hand in hers.
“Mommies and daddies kiss and hug, and they make the baby grow in mommy’s tummy.”
I cough to disguise my chuckle. I know he’s only five, and it’s the best way of explaining it, but it’s fucking funny. Imagine how much the world would be overrun with babies if all it took was some kissing and hugging?
Viv nods. “And you remember how we told you Dillon and I were friends in Dublin?”
“Yup. I know all this.” He shakes his head like we’re wasting his time, and I ruffle his hair. This little kid slays me in the best ways.