But it’s just the truth—we aren’t meant to be apart. I’ve always done better with her than away from her, and I haven’t given her the chance to get away from me in ten years now to do any further testing on that theory. Our life is close to perfect. Neither of us would change it if we could. And that’s proof enough for me.
I say I’m still a work in progress. She says it a little nicer than that. “You’re fucking perfect, Stone,” is usually how she says it,actually. But that’s a lie, because she’s perfect, and I’m nowhere near as good as her. Still working on it, though. Never let a day go by where she doesn’t know I know it. Make sure she feels how lucky I know I am. Whether it’s with my arms around her, a whisper in her ear, me deep inside her, or standing next to her on a red carpet.
I didn’t get away with filming primarily in Atlanta forever. A lot more of my projects sinceMidnight Empirewrapped have been shot in LA, Canada, and on location around the world, but the house overlooking the mountains in north Georgia is still our home. She’s still my home. Where I return after my latest project, wherever it’s taken me, it’s her I come back to.
She is everything good in my world, and I’m just trying to say thank you each and every day. Thank you for more than twenty years of smiles, of laughter, of warmth. For smacking some sense into me at my lowest, and not turning her back on me as I made my way back to the light—her light. Thank you for making my dreams come true, helping me build this life, get where I’ve gotten; that shelf in our home, full of awards dedicated to her, only tells part of the tale. (If you’re wondering—I still don’t write my speeches ahead of award shows, it’s tradition now, good luck for us, so I still speak off the cuff, from the heart when I go up there, but she’s always at the core of each speech I give.) Thank you for being my partner in all of it, and thank you for making me happier than I ever knew I had the capacity to be with our son Phoenix.
He’s almost seven now, can you believe it?
I still can’t.
He’s got his uncle Nathan, about a year and a half older than him, they do most shit together. But he’s also got a best friend his age, a girl he met in school, she’s called Maggie. I’m trying not to put any pressure on them—they’re seven, ffs, but it feels a little like history is repeating itself. The bond they have, evenat this age, it feels a lot like the wholesome shit mine and Gem’s relationship started out as.
I can only hope he gets as much joy in his life as I’ve had in mine, thanks to her.
Speaking ofher, I miss her. Haven’t seen her in the last hour or two. Think she’s in the other room, but when I go looking for her, she isn’t. I go through the whole house, room by room, not finding her anywhere. Think maybe she’s in the backyard with Phoenix & Maggie, but when I poke my head out, she’s not there either.
Phoenix sees me and waves from the yard.
“Hey buddy!” I call to him, making my way over to the two of them.
“Hey Mr. Aaron!” Maggie says.
“Hi there, Miss Marigold.” I shoot her a grin. She’s the sweet calm to Phoenix’s kind and wild. A little like another two best friends I used to know, but enough about that.
“We’re making a rope swing for the treehouse!” he tells me happily, lifting the knotted rope to show me.
“Dang, that’s pretty cool! You gonna bring that to me to test it out and hang it up for you when you’re done?”
“Yep!” He nods once, and his attention is back on the rope, as Maggie points out where the next knot should go.
I shake my head at them. I guess you can find freaking anything on YouTube these days, huh? My seven-year-old is putting me to shame already. It’s work to keep up with his creativity, but I’m up for the job most days.
But what he said gave me an idea, so I head over the treehouse, and sure enough, as I climb up the ramp (the large peony shrubs along the base still thriving, even after all this time), my girl is sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs up there, hidden beneath the overhang in the shade, watching the kidsplay in the yard over the top of her Kindle, an iced tea dripping condensation on the little wooden table next to her.
“Hey, beautiful,” I call out to her as I approach.
She eyes me up and down with a look that’s gonna get her in trouble. “Hey, handsome,” she says. I wish I could show her what that tone of voice does to me on this balcony the way I used to be able to, but our days of fooling around outdoors with abandon are behind us. Unless Phoenix is having a sleepover at his uncle & grandparents’ house. Maybe I should text my parents, see if they can take him for the night…
She can read me, as she’s always been able to, and shakes her head at me. “You’re trying to get me pregnant again, aren’t you?”
“You givin’ me ideas, Jellybean?”
She squints her nose up at me, biting her lower lip and looking freaking edible.
I crook my finger at her. “Come here.”
She puts her Kindle down on the table, stands and walks up to me, places her hands on my chest, right over my first tattoo for her.
“Have I told you I love you?” I ask her.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t let me finish!” I protest.
She rolls her eyes playfully. “Go on, tell me you love me, then.”
I kiss her cute little nose before finishing my thought. “Have I told you that I love you for not kicking me out of your life? For letting me find my way back to me, to us?”
