Page 3 of Secret Daddies

“Mom,” Matty pleaded. “Can I?—”

“No, you can’t,” I told him, lifting him off the couch and planting him on his feet. “No excuses. You think superheroes don’t brush their teeth?”

He pattered off toward the bathroom, and I grinned as I watched him go. Even though he was just six, it felt like he was turning into such a distinguished little guy. It was crazy to me, how much personality he had developed in the last few years—how he had come out of me a little fleshy blob, and now he had opinions and an attitude and a taste in movies.

I laid out his pajamas on his bed, and helped him change into them before I tucked him beneath the covers—I could tell he wasn’t going to sleep well tonight, his mind racing with all the bright colors and exciting action scenes he’d just watched.

“You sleep well, baby boy,” I murmured to him, dropping a kiss onto his head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

I smiled as I pressed my forehead to his for a moment, breathing in the scent of him—yes, I had done it a million times before, but I would never get tired of it.

Finally, I flicked out his light, leaving the door propped open just an inch or two so he could come find me if he had a bad dream—he rarely did these days, but it felt like a little lifeline tied between the two of us, as much for me as it was for him. And then, heading to my own room, I let out a long sigh as I undid my hair from the clip and brushed it out before I crashed out for the evening.

Stifling a yawn, I tried not to let my mind stray back in the direction of the movie we had just watched tonight. Devon was pretty good, I had to admit—not that it should have come as a surprise, given how skilled I knew him to be, even when we had been together. He’d always told me that he was going to make itbig, and given the way he approached his work, it had been clear he wouldn’t stop until he got there.

And now he was the lead of some big superhero series, so good for him. I wasn’t bitter. Not at all. I’d had to give up everything I was working for to find a solid income to take care of my son, while Devon had been off gallivanting with God knows who doing God knows what, probably on a private yacht, but I wasn’t bitter.

Flopping down onto my bed, I stared at the ceiling—at the spiderweb of cracks that inched out from around the light fixture that the landlord had sworn he was going to get fixed, though he never quite found the time to get around to it. And maybe he would, or maybe he would just be another in a long line of men who had let me the hell down.

I turned over with a sigh and flipped out the light on my bedside table—but even as darkness fell around me, I found my mind drifting back to Devon Hart, and the way those blue, blue eyes used to look at me instead of a billion-dollar audience.

2

MAYA

“Oh my God, there you are!”

Lana burst into the coffee shop in a flurry of scarves, jackets, and clacking heels, rushing over to my table and pulling me into a giant hug before I could get a word out. The scent of her jasmine perfume curled around me for a moment, and I breathed out a lungful of air I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. God, it had been way too long since I’d seen her last.

“Where have you been?” I demanded playfully as I pulled back and raised my eyebrows at her. She grinned as she flopped down into the seat opposite me, dropping her beat-up old messenger bag covered in badges and patches to the floor as she reached for the mocha I’d known to order for her.

“Sorry, I was at an interview for this job,” she replied, tapping the side of her nose playfully. “Big studio. Big movie.Bigmovie.”

“Well, good for you,” I replied, trying to plaster a grin on my face. I was happy for her, of course I was—I loved to see my friends do well, and nobody deserved it more than Lana. She was a costume designer—as a glance at her eclectic fashion sensewould tell you—and we’d met early on in both our careers, before I even had Matty. She’d been there for me through everything, my rock even when things were crazy, and she never pried into the details of my personal life the way so many did. No, she just took me for me, and I was eternally grateful to her for that.

“But listen to this,” she continued, leaning in and raising her eyebrows. “One of their assistant makeup artists? Just dropped out to take maternity leave at the last minute.”

“Oh, really?”

My eyebrows shot up with interest before I could stop them. It had been years since I’d worked on any movie job—the demanding nature of the hours and the often-low pay wasn’t exactly conducive to being a single mother, so I’d dumped that in favor of picking up shorter-term work to string together enough money to keep a roof over our heads.

“I know you miss it,” Lana remarked. “And I know that you would be perfect for this too. So I gave them your number.”

“You did what?”

I exclaimed so loudly that half the coffee shop turned to look at us. Lowering my voice, feeling my cheeks flush slightly, I shifted a little closer to try and get a better idea of just what she had signed me up for.

“What do you mean, you gave them my number?”

“Exactly that,” she replied, as though it should have been obvious. “They mentioned they were looking for a makeup artist, and I told them I know one of the best in the business.”

“Lana, I haven’t worked on set for?—”

“Yeah, and so what?” she replied. “You can still do it all, I know you can. And you were good, Maya—really good. You deserve a chance to pick up where you left off.”

I fiddled with the spoon on the side of my coffee, pondering the possibility. A million doubts and questions were already launching themselves into my mind, faster than I could stop them.

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