Page 118 of Wallflower in Bloom

Missy’s eyes widened. “So she’s the one, eh?”

“Mama, mama!” a little voice piped up through the crowd of the crew milling about.

“There’s my poppet,” Jack said, bending down. Missy’s rambunctious four-year-old daughter, Lyla, tumbled through the crew and cables, quickly followed by Missy’s husband with an infant strapped to his chest.

“Unca Jack!” Lyla ran toward him, but Missy stepped in front.

“Hand check,” Missy demanded.

His costume had been marred by sticky jam hands more than once. Lyla dutifully flipped her hands front-to-back to prove they were clean, then threw herself into Jack’s arms.

“Well, hullo dearest.” He swung her up high to hear the giggles that melted his heart. He loved being Uncle Jack. They’d had a hell of a time hiding Missy’s pregnancy with Lyla in the first season. His honorary niece had been coming to set nearly every week since then. He settled her on his hip.

“Rob.” Jack fist-bumped Missy’s husband.

“Catch the match?" Rob asked.

“No, been prepping for this,” he said, looking around the scene. He’d desperately wanted to slack off work and just watch the football match. Anything to take his mind off the steam engine barreling his life away from Violet.

“Jack thinks this might be the last season,” Missy said, cutting to the chase.

Rob’s eyebrows lifted with hope. He clamped his hands around Lyla’s ears. “Hell yeah.” He dropped his hands. “As a fan, I’d love for all the Lord Eagleton edging to stop and for the governess to finally be happy.” He placed a kiss on Missy’s head. “It’d be nice to see more of this one.”

Missy wrapped an arm around her husband. “We’ve been talking about me working less, seeing the kids more. What about the Christmas special? Would you still do it?”

Jack shrugged. “It makes my mother happy, but I don’t know.” He looked up to see Missy and her husband in their own little world, cooing at the infant strapped onto his chest. Lyla’s head had fallen onto his shoulder, playing with one of the buttons on his coat.

He physically ached for this kind of life and wanted to stop being an outsider.

God, how was he so stupid? He had everything he’d ever wanted laid out right in front of him, and he’d let this work determine whether or not he got the life he wanted.

Yells from a loud, British voice echoed across the sound stage. All of them turned, and Jack’s stomach dropped.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Mama, Unca Jack said—”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’ll put five dollars in the swear jar.” He kissed her head as he set her down and walked across the stage to deal with the devil herself.

His mother.

He dashed across the soundstage to find his mother yelling at a production assistant to let her through.

His apologetic smile didn’t meet his eyes. “Hi, Mum. Sorry, everyone. Forgot to add her to the visitors list today.” Liar.

She swiveled on him. She’d worn an expensive suit as if she was on her way to an industry meeting.

Not simply crashing his promo shoot.

“So, you are alive.” Her arched eyebrow sent a shiver down his spine.

Okay, maybe he hadn’t returned her phone calls since he’d said no to the mafia show. His heart was broken; what was he supposed to do? Console her too?

“Why don’t we step out of the way,” he offered, gesturing to the craft services table.

“Did you know you’re second billed?” Sshe picked up in the middle of the conversation as if the last time they’d spoken had been two minutes ago, not several weeks.

He smiled at the crew she’d pissed off and made a mental note to pick up lattes for them for the next week. “It’s lovely to see you too, Mother.”

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