Page 16 of Mister Mom

The kid’s eyes dig giant craters into the side of Payne’s head. I cover it to protect Payne on the off chance he has powers.

Yeah, I’ve been in the movie business way too long.

“After you.” Zeke’s hand extends out in front of us.

Payne skips along the path and I slow my footsteps, waiting for Zeke to catch up to me. “I hate to decline, but I have a million things to do.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Miles, catch up to Payne, okay?” He nudges his son forward and Miles runs after Payne. The two start playing a video game up ahead seconds later.

Keeping an eye on him, I continue on. “Maybe we could meet up—”

His hand lands on my arm and I freeze in place. The calloused palm of a man on my bare skin is a foreign feeling these days.

“Sorry.” He retracts his hand and I blow out a breath. It was a friendly, not a creepy gesture and I shouldn’t be making this man feel like a leper.

I’m a grown woman. I can date. Zeke seems nice, and why not dinner? The kids can play and I can have an adult conversation while I eat for once. Surely the script can wait until tomorrow.

“No, I’m sorry. Dinner sounds great.” I smile, toothier than usual, with the hope it counteracts the bitchy cold shoulder I just gave him.

“No need to apologize. I’m not sure what I did to change your mind, but I’m glad you did.” His footsteps pause by the kids.

“Come on, Payne,” I say. He glances back but continues to play the game.

“Miles, let’s go. Pizza.” Zeke’s voice is low but authoritative.

Miles places the remote on the game console and walks back to his dad.

“Payne,” I say sweetly and he glances back at me. I widen my eyes and then he does what Miles did seconds earlier. Always walking that line, this one.

The four of us leave Toys ‘R’ Us without a toy by some miracle, but I should have known my luck would run out there.

By the time the sliding doors of the store open to the parking lot, two cameramen are outside and the flashes of their cameras blind me. I wince and pick up Payne. He knows the drill. Head in the crook of my neck and never look up unless absolutely necessary.

Zeke wraps his arm around my shoulders, guiding us to the parking lot. His gesture isn’t possessive. I take it more as him being decent and knowing how intrusive this all must feel—especially with my child present.

But it’s not going to appear as innocent as it is and this will all end in horrible headlines. Headlines that will make Carver flip.

“I think we’ll have to postpone that dinner,” I mumble, hoping the paparazzi are far enough away they can’t hear me.

“No. It’s fine.”

I finally look from the black pavement to see Miles in his arms, mimicking the same position as Payne, except his chin is propped up on his dad’s shoulder and he’s staring at the cameras.

“Sorry, Zeke. Thank you.” I unlock our car with my key fob, open the driver’s door and Payne knowingly crawls through the middle opening, strapping himself into his car seat.

We worked on that stunt for an hour, since it’s faster than me strapping him in and then rounding the car. It lessens the chance of embarrassing shots of my dress flying up, or my thong poking out of the top of my jeans, or me losing my temper on the paps when they have a camera shoved in my almost five-year-old’s face.

Zeke and Miles stand outside my car and the disappointment etched on both of their faces is a look I’m all too familiar with, but it’s better this way. I’m sure there’s a reason he’s a single dad. If he even is. God, I hope he’s not married. That’s all I need.

I shake my head. This is the best for everyone. Who was I to think I could meet a normal everyday guy? I press the button to start my SUV and wave before driving away.

5

Layla

Three cups of coffee might be too much, but my eyes are permanent bloodshot slits. The all-nighter was worth it though. Vance Rose has skills and the fact that he’s willing to have me play the snarky lead, the girlfriend of a pathological liar who convinces her to travel across the United States stealing from people and businesses alike, brings a giddiness that I don’t usually have when I’m given a script.

I mean, my current role as the sweet best friend who’s always home when the lead actress returns from bedding the hero is my typecast role. Whether it’s five o’clock or ten o’clock, I’m there being the third wheel in a romantic comedy. Always sweet. Always innocent. Just like the roles I played my entire childhood.

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