Page 121 of Unscripted with Mila

“Throw you a major party that your mother and I plan. Whatever we decide goes.”

Nick grinned. “Deal.”

My dad opened his arms, and I ran into them. He enfolded me in his embrace.

“I love you, Daddy,” I whispered. “I couldn’t bear to leave you.”

“Good, Pumpkin. I couldn’t face both you and Sammy being out of the nest so close together.” He held me tighter, kissing my head. “I love you too. Be happy, my girl.”

I sighed.

I already was.

EPILOGUE

NICK

I ran a hand through my damp hair. I’d been in meetings all morning in Toronto, and when I got back to Port Albany, I worked out with Aiden, then showered before coming home. I was trying to leave my wife alone so she could write.

We’d been married six months, and I still hated to be away from her for long periods of time. A few hours felt like forever.

My life had changed. I had changed.

I’d never known happiness like this existed until Mila came into my life. She was my constant. Living here was incredible. The privacy, the peace. Her—our—incredible family.

I worked out with Aiden. Talked at length with Bentley. Shopped with Maddox. Doted on Sandy. Geeked out with Reid. Sought Halton’s counsel on more than one occasion. I joined the men on their cigar nights, listening to their stories as we sipped expensive booze and enjoyed life.

I got along well with all the cousins. We hung out. I wasn’t Nicholas Scott, celebrity, here. I was Nick, Mila’s husband—a role I loved having. I was part of something. A group of people who truly cared for one another.

All the women mothered me. Fussed and clucked. Staunchly supported my movies. Fed me constantly. There was always one of them around if I wandered to the Hub while Mila was busy.

I found a new therapist. One I trusted. I stayed on top of my meds. Realized how it felt to feel almost normal. I had my moments, but I didn’t feel as if everyone were waiting for me to fall. Instead, they made sure to keep me lifted up. The combination of this less anxiety-driven lifestyle and the support around me made a huge difference. I didn’t have to hide myself. I could just be me.

Or “Hollywood,” as they all called me.

Except Liv.

She called me “her boy,” and I liked that. My mom used to call me that, and it made me smile. Feel loved. I knew she was looking down at me and was happy I had found my place.

I got to the house, peeking in the office, surprised Mila wasn’t at her desk or in her big chair she liked to curl up in to write. I walked to the kitchen, still in awe of this place. Mila and I had bought some new pieces together. She had discovered my sketchbooks when we were unpacking my things and had framed several pieces, hanging them on the walls. She loved it when I would show her new sketches, and I enjoyed the tranquility of sitting and drawing out the vistas and quiet beauty of this place.

My favorite sketch was the one I drew of her when I first met her. Before I knew who she was. I had still captured her sweetness. It hung in the room I used as an office now, and I often lost time gazing at it, until I had to go and see the real thing. Hold her and feel her against me, knowing this was my life now. Mila filled every crevice and dark spot with her lightness and love.

Not finding her, I headed upstairs, stopping in the doorway. Mila was on our bed, leaning back against the headboard, watching the TV. I stared at her for a moment, noting the loose T-shirt she wore. One of mine. She loved putting on my clothes. I loved taking them off her.

I did a double take when I saw what she was watching, and I strode into the room, standing between her and the screen, glaring at her.

She pulled off the headphones. “What?”

“What did we agree, Mila? No porn watching. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

She waved her hand. “You were at work. I need inspiration. Move.”

I shook my head, crawling up on the bed toward her, tossing the headphones away. “Not without me.”

“Stop. It was getting to the good stuff. The moaning and writhing were about to start.”

She looked adorable, defending her need to watch the movie. I cocked my head, leaning close and dropping my voice. “You wet, baby? Has watching made you wet?”