Page 31 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
I crouch down. “Everything okay?”
He nods. But he’s not really nodding. He’s doing that thing kids do when they know what you want to hear and just mimic the motion.
I reach out, tucking his hair behind one ear. “Did something happen at Dad’s?”
He shrugs. Which means yes. Maeve is already inside, shouting for Jessica and asking about snacks. I pull Eli into my arms. He doesn’t fight it, but he doesn’t melt into me the way he usually does either. He’s stiff. Too quiet. I stroke his back. “You want to tell me about it?”
A pause. Then, finally, the smallest whisper. “Not now.”
That’s all he gives me. And that’s enough to set my skin on fire.
Because I know David. Iknowhis moods. I know the way he smiles through teeth when he’s trying to make a point. I know the look in his eyes when he says something awful but frames it like discipline. I fought like hell to get primary custody. But every other weekend is still too much.
I kiss the top of Eli’s head and murmur, “Okay, baby. Not now.”
But soon. My whole body feels queasy, knowing something is wrong with my baby boy. I want to strangle David before I know anything for sure. Might not be fair to him, but the more I think about it, the more I want to.
Hours later, my phone rings just after I tuck Eli into bed. He still hasn’t said anything about what happened. Jessica helped coaxhim into a warm bath and a fresh pair of pajamas. Maeve snuck in and gave him a Star Wars plushie without being asked. He gave her the barest smile. It broke my heart anyway.
I sit on the edge of my bed, lights low, eyes still on his bedroom door.
Then I glance at the caller ID. Mira.
I swipe. “Hey.”
“Bailey,” she breathes. “Tell me you’re sitting down.”
“I am, actually.”
“You’re on the short list.”
My stomach flips. “For what?”
“For Friedburg.”
I bolt upright. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Shut up.”
“Never.”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, breath catching like it forgot how to do its job. Friedburg istheguy. The director who turned three underdog actresses into Oscar winners. Who doesn’t evendoauditions—hechooses.
“I haven’t even—how does he?—?”
“He’s seen your work. Said your name was floated to him by one of his casting producers. You’re up for the lead. Thelead, Bailey. The role’s not locked yet, but they’re building a short list for chemistry reads. You’re on it.”
I don’t know what to say. This is the call. The one every actress dreams about but stops expecting when she hits a certain age and still has to fight for every decent part.
“Bailey?” Mira prompts.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”
