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“I remember,” I said, laughing. Honestly, I could’ve used the nap. Now I probably wouldn’t get a decent night’s sleep for months. “So… what are we going to call her?”
“We’re not naming her Patricia,” he said firmly, and I chuckled sleepily, my eyelids heavy with exhaustion.
“I was thinking Blake,” I suggested.
Max nuzzled into my side, sweeping my sweat-dampened hair back so he could kiss my forehead gently. “Blake sounds perfect. I love it,” he said.
22
Max
I love my job , I reminded myself. And I really did, but it was weeks like this one that I needed to remind myself on repeat.
I used to love traveling, seeing new cities, new countries, meeting new people, a new man in my bed every night. Ironic, maybe, that I had portrayed this perfect image to the world, while inside I was broken, and it wasn’t until that image was torn down that I was able to find true perfection for myself. Now, I resented traveling because it meant being away from home.
It was always rough being away, but it was so much worse since Blake was born. Every night I had a video chat with Arlo, and he propped the phone up inside the crib so I could watch Blake sleep while we talked in hushed whispers, not wanting to disturb her. Arlo told me about all the new things she’d been doing—holding her head up, cooing, blowing spit bubbles—and my heart broke a little. I missed her first smile, dammit!
“I love my fucking job,” I grunted under my breath between takes, when the director had us back it up to run the scene again.
I was in Atlanta filming a romance—sort of—except instead of my old more familiar genre of the family-friendly rom-com, this time I was playing a stalker. The movie was dark. Beyond toxic. I’d never played a villain before, and I had to admit, I probably wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t like how it felt against my skin—hell, against my soul. I felt tainted.
This was part of the reason I had invited Arlo to bring Blake down for a visit. They’d flown into town last night, and I spent much of the night reminding my fiancé that we communicated best with our bodies. It was nearly impossible to leave him back at the short-term rental apartment this morning, but he’d texted to say they’d be stopping by the set for lunch, and then I had tomorrow off to spend with my family. I was so grateful for them, right now especially. The way this role was dragging me into the dark, I needed more light and love in my life to remind myself of everything good in the world.
The entire cast seemed to feel the same way, because as soon as Arlo appeared on set and my castmates set eyes on Blake, kicking her legs in her stroller, they descended on her, and all filming came to a screeching halt.
“That’s an early lunch, everybody,” the director declared, before leaning over the stroller and cooing in baby-talk.
I laughed and took the opportunity to pull Arlo into a long hug, breathing in that perfect delicate scent at the base of his neck. “Thank you so much for coming. I really needed this.”
“Are you kidding? This is a dream holiday! Blake and I are going to spend the afternoon at the botanical gardens. Besides, I’m just super grateful to get out of town for a bit.”
I frowned, protective instincts kicking in. “Why? What happened? Please don’t tell me Carson is following you around and giving you trouble. Because I told him, if he dared to get within a mile of you that—”
“No, no!” he said, cutting me off before I could really get going. It’s just that things kinda got awkward at work when I walked in on Chance with our new dancer bent over his desk.” He made a face. “You know I’m all for a little voyeurism, but not my boss. Please, ew, no. So here I am, glad for the reason to avoid him.”
“And you’re glad to see me too, of course,” I added, smirking.
“Of course.” He tipped up onto his toes to give me a slow, lingering kiss.
Not that I would ever admit it out loud, but I was secretly glad to hear about Chance—not the part where Arlo saw his boss naked, but the fact that Chance had apparently moved on from his little crush on my man. I took that as a good sign. Didn’t make me any less eager to put a ring of that for good, though. Maybe it made me a caveman, but claiming Arlo in the bedroom wasn’t enough. I wanted him to be mine in every way possible.
He moaned into my mouth when I gripped him by the ass, grinding against him as I deepened the kiss, taking full advantage of the surplus of babysitters to keep an eye on Blake for a few minutes. The benefit to having my reputation destroyed was that I could really let go on the PDA, without worrying about what people thought. I was labeled a bad boy, so I might as well act the part. The doctor had only just cleared Arlo for anal sexy times last week, and last night’s romp hadn’t even begun to satisfy my urges.
Finally, the crowd around Blake thinned as people went to grab coffee or a bite to eat, and I reluctantly let Arlo go, growling under my breath so he knew I wasn’t anywhere near finished with him.
I bent down to unbuckle my daughter’s safety belt and pulled her up into my arms, smothering her with kisses. She wasn’t old enough to giggle yet, but I could tell she was thinking it, the way she made this little gasping sound, her pudgy hands slapping ineffectually at my head, legs kicking. “How’s my baby girl today?” I asked, tucking her into my chest under my chin. She’d been growing so quickly, I wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if she’d answered me.
“Would you guys like a tour of the set?” I asked, taking Arlo’s hand in mine and interlacing our fingers.
Arlo’s eyes flashed in excitement. “Absolutely!” He truly was my biggest fan.
I showed him the inside of the house where we would be filming this afternoon. There were cameras and lights and boom mics waiting to be used, and even though Blake was far too young to understand what I was talking about, I explained the different roles the crew members had. “And the gaffer is responsible for the entire electrical department. It’s a very important job.”
“She looks riveted,” Arlo teased, plucking her from my arms and spinning her around.
“Hush, you. She clearly thinks it’s fascinating.” I stepped behind one of the cameras and angled it toward them. It wasn’t recording, but I could see my little family framed in the viewfinder. At that moment, Blake looked up and made eye contact, and I swore to gods she gave me a mischievous smirk. “Did you see that? She smiled for the camera! Blake loves it! She’s an actress in the making,” I gushed, my heart near bursting. I was one proud papa.
Arlo shook his head, laughing lightly. “It was a coincidence. She actually smiled for her daddy, not the camera.”
