Page 16 of Secret Daddies

“No, she’s not.”

It was still strange for me, to admit that Emily and I were over. It’d been years now, but I still couldn’t believe the mess it had all turned into. Emily cheating, lying, going behind my back… Even as my career was blowing up, she was ripping apart everything that I had worked so hard to build at home, acting as though my late nights were an excuse for her to go out and hook up with anyone she could get her hands on. I gripped the wheel a little tighter, pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind. None of this was Maya’s problem, and I wasn’t going to turn it into one for her.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

She seemed to sense that she had stepped into some tender ground for me. As we drew up to a stoplight, I looked over at her.

“What about your kid? Is his dad around?”

She hesitated for a moment before she answered.

“It’s…it’s complicated,” she admitted. “Let’s leave it at that.”

I turned my attention back to the road, and we headed the last few blocks over to the school. When we arrived, she practically leaped out of the car and rushed to the reception area, where her son was waiting for her already—I didn’t follow her in, not wanting to draw any attention. I had been way too hasty, thinking I could pull Martha out of class myself without making some kind of scene. Better for me to just keep my head down and send a nanny over as soon as I got the chance, and hopefully that would be enough to keep her from getting sick. I hated seeing her ill—and besides, I knew damn well that I would catch whatever she ended up with, and that was the last thing I needed right now.

Maya emerged a few moments later with her arm around her son, who looked to be about six years old—a few years younger than my girl, so it didn’t seem likely that they’d know each other. Which was something of a relief, because I didn’t want him stringing the pieces together about who I was and feeding all of that back to the rest of the students at the school. A small handful of people knew who I was, but I tried to keep that under wraps as much as possible. I wanted Martha to go to a normal school, to have a normal life—as far as that was possible for her—not one where she was constantly being interrogated about her father and his work.

They headed toward my car, and I stepped out to open the door for them—but as soon as her son laid eyes on me, his legs faltered out from underneath him, and his lips parted in utter shock.

“What—you?—”

He stuttered a couple of times, leaning on his mother, clinging to her like his whole world had stopped making sense in a matter of seconds. Maya urged him forward.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she told him softly. “Let’s get you home.”

“Hey, buddy,” I greeted him as she steered him toward the car, climbing into the back seat alongside him. He didn’t take his eyes off me for a moment, clearly utterly boggled by what he was seeing before him.

“I’m sorry, he’s a big fan of your films,” Maya explained apologetically. “Aren’t you, Matty?”

Matty could only nod as he stared at me, like he was waiting for me to blink out of existence at any second. I grinned at him.

“Thanks, buddy,” I told him. “That means a lot.”

Matty just nodded again, and then looked to his mother. Lowering his voice, though I could still hear them, he began to talk to her urgently. “What is he doing here?” he demanded, shooting another look toward me.

“I work with Taylor right now,” she explained. I didn’t blame her for not telling him about the job she’d been doing on set—I could only imagine how keen he would have been to come join her the first chance he got, and she was clearly trying to keep her professional and personal life separate, the same way I was.

“On another film?”

“On…on another film, yes.”

His eyes widened, as though something had clicked for him. “The trio…?”

She bit her lip. I could tell she didn’t want to lie to him, but she knew that admitting this was going to make it even harder for him to keep calm. Finally, she nodded, and he let out a squeak of shock.

“Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Hey, don’t get noisy,” she warned him gently, squeezing her arm around his shoulders. “This is my work, remember?”

“Yes, but you should have?—”

“Hey, you need to get some rest,” she told him firmly. “Calm down, honey. We can talk about this later.”

“I want to see the film!” he exclaimed, his voice rising in that way that little kids did when they were getting way too excited for their own good. I could still remember the way my daughterreacted, just like this, when she had seen the pony toy set she’d asked for beneath the Christmas tree on Christmas morning a few years ago.

“You will, you can see it when it comes out, like everyone else,” she assured him. “But until then?—”

“But what about before then?” he asked, his eyes widening excitedly. “Can I visit your job, Mom?”

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