Chapter 279 Chapter 279

Chapter 279 Chapter 279
Epilogue: Wyatt & Lauren
The set was dead silent as Lauren finished her last roundhouse kick before the scene ended with her in a fighting stance, then crew members started shouting instructions, lights being repositioned with metallic clangs, cameras rolling on tracks like something out of a fever dream. Lauren stood in the center of it all, dressed in tactical gear that made her look like she could kick ass and take names, which, according to the script, was exactly what her character did.
"Lauren, darling!" The director, Glen Anderson, gestured wildly from behind the monitor. "That was perfection, but can we do it again? Do you think? This time, more fire in the eyes. You're not just angry… you're avenging every woman who's ever been underestimated." Glen was one of the good guys. It was rare, but true in his case. He worked with actors to get the most out of them, instead of shouting, which could make some actors freeze up. She had worked with Glen before.
"Got it." Lauren wiped the fake blood from her cheek, grinning. "One pissed-off badass coming right up."
From his position near craft services, tucked into a quiet corner with his laptop balanced on a folding table, Wyatt looked up. His eyes found hers, and even this far away, she could see the heat in his gaze.
That look still did things to her. Made her stomach flip. Made her forget they were surrounded by dozens of people. Made her want to drag him into her trailer and—
"Mrs. Heywood, focus," she muttered to herself.
Wyatt's mouth quirked. As if he knew what she was thinking. The bastard normally did. He could read her like a book.
A small voice piped up from beside Wyatt. "Mama!"
Lauren's heart melted instantly. James, their twenty-one-month-old son, sat on a blanket near Wyatt's feet, surrounded by toy trucks and what looked like half the contents of his diaper bag. His dark hair… Wyatt's hair, stuck up in adorable tufts, and his eyes, the mirror of hers, lit up with excitement.
"Hey, baby!" Lauren waved, and James waved back enthusiastically, nearly smacking himself in the face. Lauren walked over to them. "Mama's still working. Be good for Daddy." She would love to pick him up and hold him, but while she was filming and they had another take, she would have to wait.
"He's been an angel," Wyatt said, not looking up from his laptop. "Only threw his snack cup twice. That's a record."
"Liar. I can see Cheerios in your hair."
Wyatt's hand went to his head, finding the offending cereal. He plucked it out, examined it, then popped it in his mouth. "Waste not."
Lauren laughed, shaking her head. "You're disgusting." The things parents did when they had kids.
"You married me anyway." He finally looked up fully, his eyes tracking over her in the tactical gear, the fake blood, the way the costume designer had made sure everything fit just right. "And can I just say, sweetheart, you in that outfit is doing things to me that are highly inappropriate for a film set, unless it’s a bedroom scene."
Heat crawled up her neck. "Wyatt."
"Just making an observation." But his grin was pure wickedness. "Professional observation. As your husband and former bodyguard, I need to assess all tactical gear for... structural integrity. See if I can get past it easily."
"I'm working!" Wyatt was still her bodyguard if needed, but mostly he was the main carer of their son while she was working.
"So am I." He gestured at his laptop. "See? Multitasking. Managing portfolios while imagining peeling you out of that gear later. Very efficient."
"You're impossible."
"And you love me for it." He smirked while typing something, then his expression softened. "How are you feeling? Holding up okay?"
The question was casual, but Lauren heard the concern underneath. The protective edge that never quite went away, even over two years later.
Even though she'd done months of therapy and could finally sleep through most nights without nightmares.
Even though her career had exploded in ways she'd never imagined, the "actress who stopped a serial killer" becoming a household name, offers pouring in faster than her agent could field them.
Wyatt still worried. Still watched. Still made sure she was okay.
"I'm good," Lauren said, meaning it. "Really good, actually. This role is... it's everything I wanted. Getting to play a woman who fights back? Who doesn't wait to be saved? It's cathartic as hell."
"Good." Wyatt's eyes held hers for a long moment. "You deserve this, Lauren. All of it. The career and success. You earned it. What happened only brought you into the spotlight. You could always act, it just gave others a chance to see you.”
"We earned it," she corrected. "I wouldn't be here without you. Wouldn't be anywhere without you." Because he was the stay-at-home daddy and he always had her back.
"Damn right you wouldn't. Someone has to keep you fed and make sure you actually sleep between takes." He glanced down at James, who was now trying to eat a toy truck. "And someone has to wrangle this little terrorist while you're working. Speaking of which, James, no. Trucks are not food. We've discussed this."
James looked up at his father, grinned, and continued gnawing on the truck.
"He's definitely your son," Lauren said.
"My son would listen to reason. This is clearly your stubborn Sicilian blood coming through."
"My stubborn blood is why I'm still here, big boy."
"Fair point." Wyatt's expression turned serious for a moment. "And I'm grateful for that stubborn blood every single day. You know that, right?"
Lauren's throat tightened. "I know. I love you."
"Love you too. Now go be a badass on camera so we can go home and I can get you out of that outfit."
"You're insatiable."
"You're hot. It's a problem." He waved her off. "Go. Work. Make art. I'll be here managing boring investment portfolios and making sure our son doesn't eat any more non-food items."
"Lauren!" Glen called. "We're ready for you!"