Page 120 of Mr. Fixer Upper
Shooting onKing’s Castlewrapped tomorrow with the reveal. It would take most of the day to shoot, but it was all coming to an end. And Paige was going to miss it. The house, the crew, seeing Gannon every day. That was the part she was dreading the most.
Sure, as director of the new season ofKings of Construction, she’d have the pleasure of working with him every day again, but that wouldn’t be until April. Late April. Between now and then, she and Becca would be crisscrossing the country and burying themselves in hundreds of hours of interview footage.
Would he wait for her while she lived her dream?
She was finally doing it. All those years paying her dues were going to pay off, and she would lead a project that she could be proud of regardless of how it was received. She was both excited and terrified.
Her phone vibrated against her hip, and she shuffled bags to dig it out. It was a text from Gannon.
Meet me at the house. Need to show you something.
She frowned. That sounded like a problem to her. Were they missing furniture? Did something get damaged with the load in?Crap.She hoped it was something they could at least shoot around.
I’m a couple blocks away. Be there in ten.
She looked at the time. If there was some kind of cosmetic issue, hardware stores would only be open for another hour or so, she gauged. She hauled bags and ass around the corner and down the street.
On the bright side, she wouldn’t have to wait until tomorrow to see the finished product. She’d missed the entire afternoon of load in today to shoot with Gannon on location at a thrift shop. They shot a cute bit with him shopping with Cat and Nonni for décor. The world didn’t know it yet, but it was going to fall in love with a seventy-two-year-old.
Paige had been planning on sneaking out of Gannon’s bed and into the house obscenely early in the morning just to get her own personal tour of the space to make sure nothing essential was missing on the call sheet.
But she could scratch the early call from her list now as the house loomed in front of her. On her approach, it looked as though every light in the house was on making the entire place seem warm, inviting. Gannon might regret that, she laughed to herself. After having so many people in and out of the house for the past four months, he would probably prefer to throw the deadbolts and enjoy the solitude for a few weeks.
The lights they’d chosen in the courtyard, the ones that perfectly complemented the black iron lanterns on either side of the front door, cast a gold glow over the brick and beckoned her inside. She trudged up the front steps under the weight of the bags and was thankful when the doorknob turned easily in her hand. She deposited the bags inside the door and sighed.
It was perfection. The long, low leather couch faced the fireplace with its brick surround and rough-cut oak mantel. The cheery gas fire chased the chill from the room. The flat screen TV—not nearly as colossal as the one he’d chosen for the second floor sitting room—was on and showing theKing’s Castlelogo.
The coffee table, which looked suspiciously like her own, stood between two overstuffed armchairs in a soft oatmeal fabric. The floors, oh the floors. The original hardwoods had been unsalvageable on this level and Gannon had gone with a nearly gray random width plank to lighten the space. It flowed from the front door all the way back into the kitchen.
He’d added just a bit of drama by painting the walls on this floor a shade of sea blue. It played against the gray of the flooring just as she’d thought when he’d shown her the samples. Rich, masculine, and peaceful. Gannon could come home and breathe easy here, shutting out the rest of the world on the other side of the front door.
She moved into the dining space, which was now open to the living room and kitchen. Between each room, he’d done casement openings with grand pieces of trim stained to match the original woodwork of the rest of the house.
The dining table and benches he’d built were here as well as the buffet and finished shelves. He’d been right about the metal shelf supports. Again, masculine and contemporary, playing off the historical building. On the wall opposite the buffet was a gallery wall of family photos.
Paige frowned, stepping closer. There was one of her here. The one he’d had in his apartment. And another. This one snapped from behind while she helped Francesca with the dishes after their pizza celebration. There were others—Cat and Gannon growing up, their parents mugging for the camera on the hood of a station wagon, and a large framed black and white photo of Francesca and her groom on their wedding day. Pop, she presumed. Paige pressed her fingertips to the frame. With Gannon, family would always be front and center where they deserved to be.
In her mother’s dining room was a lovely Kara Walker original in black and white.
The realization swift and hot caught Paige unaware.
Her mother hadn’t let anything stand between her and success. Not her daughters and certainly not her relationship. She’d known what was important to her, what would get her there, and what would take her further away from it.
But was Leslie St. James happy? A loud voice inside Paige asked the question. Was happiness the same as success?
The answer inside her was a resounding “no.” Success wasn’t the same as happiness. Neither was satisfaction, and that’s where her mother had made her fatal mistake.
Paige stared at Gannon’s wall and felt her heart turn over. There was a shot of the two of them standing on the front steps of this very house grinning at each other. The doors were open, and she could just make out the chaos of a filming day within. He’d put her on his wall, pulled her into his family, and made her fall in love with him.
She’d had no intention of letting any of it happen, yet here she was with a full heart and a need to tell him, tell the world!
Paige pressed a hand to her chest. Instead of an ache, there was a glow as warm and true as the rising sun. Shelovedhim, and this is how it felt. Knees weak, she sank down on the bench at the dining table and tried to catch her breath.
She could do this.She could love him and film her documentary and make a difference. She could do it all. Somehow. It didn’t have to be one or the other. She would find a way to make it work.
There was so much they needed to talk about. Living arrangements, for instance. There was no way in hell she could go back to her teeny apartment knowing Gannon was rattling around here with four gorgeous floors all to himself.
Gannon.
