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“Taylor,” my mother sings. “How are you, darling?”
My eyes widen in surprise. Not only is she calling me, but she sounds excited to talk to me. That hasn’t happened since … shit, I can’t remember the last time.
Wait. Yes, I can.
Last time she called without warning and was sickly sweet to me, she wanted something from me. At the time, it was for me to run errands for her because her assistant was sick. Silly, right? My mother’s errands took me six hours that day, most of which I spent sitting in traffic.
“Mother,” I state firmly, “I’m at work. Can this wait?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were at the office still. I figured you’d be home by now.”
Her words go to show how much she pays attention when we talk. She still thinks I work at the studio, in a little corner office, making phone calls all day. I told her I took a promotion. She even congratulated me.
“I’m not at the office. We’re filming on location in Nassau right now.”
“Really? I didn’t realize you were in a movie. How big is your part? Are you the lead?”
“No, Mother. I’m not in the movie. I’m the director’s PA.”
“Why? You should be the star, sweetie.” She tries to hide it, but I can still hear the disappointment in her voice. She forced acting classes on me until I was ten and I convinced Martha to let me skip. Martha saw it wasn’t my passion. My mother didn’t care, she wanted me to follow in her footsteps. We let her continue to pay for classes for almost a year before I told her I quit.
“I’m not an actress. I don’t want to be an actress. I want to work behind the scenes. We’ve talked about this, multiple times. I don’t want to be you when I grow up, Mother. I get that you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the truth. And I do have to go. Ansen’s walking this way and he looks pissed.”
“Ansen? Steve Ansen?”
“Yes, Mother. I’m his assistant. I told you all of this weeks ago.”
“Taylor, I need you to listen to me very closely. Hand over your clipboard, jump on the next plane home, and stay at the house until I get there.”
“I’m not twelve anymore. You don’t get to make demands like that. I’m hanging up now. I’ll call you when I’m back in LA. Good-bye, Mother.”
“Tay—”
Her protests are cut short when I end the call, immediately turning my phone to vibrate before sliding it back in my back pocket.
“She sounded worried,” Eli states, causing me to jump.
“You heard all that?” I ask, finally turning to face him.
“Kind of hard not to. She was practically screaming into the phone.”
My mother has always talked loudly. She likes to be heard, and the louder she speaks, the more people listen to her. Mostly because they don’t have a choice. Her voice carries across a room.
“She’s overly dramatic. Actresses, right?” My joke falls flat, Eli’s expression turning grim.
“Taylor—”
“Please don’t. I have enough on my plate right now. I don’t need to add my mother to the growing list of things that keep me up at night.”
Groaning when I realize what I’ve just said, I break eye contact and stare at the space between our feet. Maybe, just maybe, he won’t ask. He won’t probe me for information. But today is not my lucky day.
“What else is on that list?” he asks.
My eyes flick up as he closes the distance between us. I’m not fast enough to escape his grasp, his large, strong hands landing on my hips. When his thumbs brush the exposed skin above my jeans, a soft moan escapes my lips.
“Do you think of me at night? Do you lay awake in bed and wish I were there with you?”
“You’re full of yourself, you know that?”
