Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Kate Bernard and Daphne McAdams were fan favorites now. Not anywhere near Pierce’s level, but he didn’t mind sharing the spotlight. He was relieved their success had nothing to do with pretending to be romantically attached to him. He was mine, and he made sure the world knew it.
The day we’d been photographed embracing in front of the candle display at BGoods, social media went bonkers. Pierce confirmed that he was in a relationship with someone he loved and asked for privacy. That was it.
Of course, it wasn’t that simple. Like it or not, I became an insta-celebrity. I was followed and occasionally harassed by die-hard fans who were either jealous or didn’t approve that their hero had a real-life male lover.
I have to admit, it was daunting at first. I spent those early days hiding out at his house or at Bran’s while Pierce was filming in Toronto and tried to figure out how to deal with the sudden spotlight.
People I hadn’t seen or talked to in years came out of the woodwork wanting to reconnect. It was so…unreal.
I’d never been more grateful for my friends. I knew who I could count on. Bran was a fierce mama bear. He brought Benson and Andrew for sleepovers at Pierce’s house while Jake was on firefighter duty. The house felt like a home with a dog underfoot and a baby cooing. I mentioned that to Pierce on FaceTime one night.
His megawatt grin had lit the screen. “Let’s do that. Let’s get a dog and have a baby.”
And that right there made the headache of unwanted attention worth it. Pierce’s adoring gaze, his soft eyes, and that particular smile were for me only. Baxter might belong to the world, but Pierce was all mine and I didn’t doubt for a second that he loved me.
A long-distance relationship with a superstar wasn’t easy, but we made it work. We talked every day, filling each other in on minor details of our lives. I did inventory while he recounted silly onset squabbles. I called him while I was at Mr. Gowan’s so he could say hello and get a small tour of the behind-the-scenes action. Mr. G had loved it.
I even made two trips to Europe to visit him while he was there, but the moment he returned, we settled into building a real life together. We moved furniture around, bought some colorful art at my insistence, and yes…we planted a vegetable garden.
“It’s too hot for a tux,” Pierce grumbled, pulling me beside him on the grass.
“Mmhmm. But think of how fun it will be to take those tuxes off later.”
He kissed my nose, then hopped to his feet and offered me his hand. “Always looking at the bright side, aren’t you?”
“I try. C’mon, let’s finish up here. We can take these tomatoes with us to Carmel in the morning.”
Pierce cocked his head and stooped again to help me. “We haven’t been there in a while. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“Yes, definitely. It’s time to start thinking about the remodel. Bran and I want the new store to open this fall…and I know Mr. G would want us to enjoy it.”
“Yeah, he would. He loved you, you know that, right?”
I nodded slowly.
Mr. Gowan passed away peacefully in his sleep last September, a week after Pierce returned to LA. It was as if he’d hung on to say one last good-bye.
His estate was dissolved and proceeds given to charity. He left a sum of money to Enid, bequeathed a book of poetry and his Scrabble game to Pierce, and gave me his home in Carmel and instructions to scatter his ashes under the lemon tree and along the beach—posthaste, as David would be waiting for him.
Pierce and I made the trip to Carmel alone after Mr. Gowan’s service with his ashes in a small wooden box. We scattered half of them under the tree and sat on the bench and played a game of Scrabble in his honor. When the sun set, we went to the beach and scattered the rest.
We held hands and watched as the ashes drifted on the wind to the sea. In a fanciful moment, I’d imagined I saw David’s shadowy figure waiting for his love to join him with his hand outstretched wearing a tux while Mr. G wore his lover’s favorite old red sweater. I’d buried my face in Pierce’s chest and sobbed.
He’d dried my tears and kissed me, then took my hand and led me to the cottage.
Our cottage now. Our second home. Our private space.
Other than adding an alarm system and a gate, we hadn’t done a thing to it…yet. We would eventually.
“Make it pretty, dah-ling. Or sell it and start something new. I want good things for you, Lo. David would have insisted.”
I hadn’t known what to say. Telling Mr. G I didn’t want his cottage would only have agitated him. He trusted us to take care of something he loved. David had made an iron-clad will stating that no member of the Richelieu family would benefit from his estate, or Mr. G probably would have passed it along to Pierce.