Page 102 of Act Like You Don't Care
And I was going to be able to eat again. Real food.
All the food.
And in the kitchen of my new house.
I’d put out the cautious word that I was looking to move. So had Miles. Our weekends had been spent roaming from house to house, debating the pros and cons of each one. We’d stumbled on the perfect house entirely by accident, but I liked to think that it was meant to be. Completely fenced in, with four bedrooms, a living room and a family room, a grassy yard rimmed with trees, and a small swimming pool locked away behind its own fence in the back. Miles had forced me to negotiate the price while I argued that we didn’t want to lose it because it was just what we wanted. In the end, he was probably right, but I’d lost far too much sleep worrying that someone else would come in scoop it out from underneath us.
He’d been surprised when I insisted he have a room in the house that he could call his own.
I was hoping that, by the time we actually had the baby, his room and mine would be the same one.
For now, I was going slow and careful, because I still couldn’t tell for sure how he felt about me. I knew he was attracted, but he held himself a little aloof except for hugs when needed. Backrubs, too, and a friendly ear to complain to whenever the combination of interviews, filming, house hunting, and baby-growing got to be a little too much.
It would be so stupid not to try, only I was so awkward and raw when it came to letting someone that far into my heart. Except he was already there, I just didn’t know how to find out how far I’d wormed my way into his. If there hadn’t been the baby to consider and the fact that we were tied together for the rest of our lives through that child, I’d have gone for him in my usual fashion. But I wanted things to be comfortable between us—I remembered the tension between my parents when I was young. I wasn’t going to have that for my little boy.
Will met me at the trailer door. “The movers called. They want to make sure someone would be there to let them into the condo.”
“Hang on, I’ll text Miles. Jim is supposed to be there.” I pulled out my phone and sent off the question, then followed Will back toward the studio.
He handed me a bottle of water. “Don’t forget to drink this.”
I made a face but took the bottle and obediently chugged half of it. “If I piss myself on the way to the hospital, I’m not going to be a fun patient.” Miles was picking me up for an early lunch, then it was off to the hospital for our official anatomy scan and confirmation that we were having a little boy.
“You have to drink eight cups of water for the ultrasound to get a good picture,” Will scolded. “Stop complaining.”
It was probably just nerves, but I already needed to go to the bathroom and I’d only had… I checked the bottle… a cup and a half so far. “You’re coming to the party this weekend, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Will assured me.
We followed the corridor down to the pre-read room and Will held the door open for me.
“Surprise!” far too many people shouted at once.
I froze in the open door, my brain scrambling to make sense of the pink and blue streamers and balloons hanging from walls and ceiling. A banner hung across the far end of the room proclaiming “It’s a Baby!”
Will, half-choked with laughter, pushed me into the room. “Go take your seat, party boy.”
Miles appeared, wearing a wide grin. “We have a chair over here for you.”
“What? Wait!” I babbled as he led me across the room.
“It’s a baby shower,” Greta said and helped me sink onto the armchair that hadn’t been in this room this morning.
“You didn’t need to,” I began, but she shushed me.
“We all wanted to. And this was the perfect time to do it because that way the gifts can go straight to the new place.”
What could I say? I looked around the room at everyone there. People who’d worked on set with me. My co-stars. The director. Miles and his parents. Grady, of all people, sitting in the corner deep in conversation with Octavio.
Then Margaret blew through the door preceded by the words, “I only have fifteen minutes,” and, as if that was the signal, someone shoved Miles into a chair next to me and wrapped boxes and gift bags started landing in my lap.
It wasn’t a long party, thank God, because Will kept bringing me water and by the time we’d opened everything and thanked everyone and had some sandwiches and cake, I was squirming like a four-year-old and desperately trying to ignore the pressure on my bladder.
Just before she left, Margaret bent down and whispered to me, “Have your agent call me. I’m looking at a couple of projects for next year that might suit you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered back. “And thank you again for your gift.”
“Thank you for all the work you put into the film. It makes my job much easier in the end.” She winked and then left.
