His mother, whom I’ve thought of as a friend every single day since Fiji.
Asmorethan a friend.
My life wouldn’t be what it is today—mycareerwouldn’t be what it is today—without Emma.
I owe that to her too, and I don’t think she knows it.
Nor would she likely appreciate it.
She looks away from me and rubs her hands over her bare arms beneath her short-sleeve shirt while she walks around the casual blue checkered furniture to stare out at the mountains. “I want my son to have a normal life,” she says. “I don’t want him in the public spotlight. And I don’t want to introduce him to anyone who’ll leave and disappoint him if he gets attached.”
I deserved that dig. “Okay.”
“Yousayokay, but how much of that is wishful thinking and how much is realistically possible?”
I nod toward the closed doors behind us. “Hayes hides from the spotlight all the time. It’s easier than you might think.”
“We shouldn’t have tohide from the spotlightto live a normal life. We’ve been living a normal life.You didn’t want us. That was the message I got. You didn’t want me in Fiji and you didn’t want your son when I tried to tell you he existed. And now you’re here and you say you want to be here for him, buthow do I trust you? How do I trust you can keep him safe? Not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. How do I know you deserve him?”
Fuck.
She doesn’t.
Hell,Idon’t know if I deserve it.
If I’m being honest, I know I don’t.
Not now. Not yet. “I’m here until I’ve earned it. However long it takes.”
She looks back at me, gnawing on her lower lip, and I feel something else.
Something I don’t need right now.
Zip it up,I order myself.Box it up and put it away.
I was undeniably attracted to Emma when I met her in Fiji. Not just as a friend, but asmore. And for the past couple years, I’ve told myself it wasn’t true attraction.
That it was a knee-jerk reaction to being close to a woman who understood the pain and loneliness that went along with leaving a failed relationship that you believed in to the pit of your soul.
That it was me mistaking a friend for more because my head was in a screwed-up place.
But sometime since Fiji, I’ve healed.
More, I’vethrived.
Professionallyandpersonally.
Watching her now—nope nope nope.
Not letting that part of me have any influence in this conversation.
“People will notice you’re missing from your normal life,” she says, “and there’s only so long before people realize you’re missing because you’re here. Once they realize you’re here, the reporters come. My friends are telling anyone who asks that the reason you showed up here was because you want to talk my brother into letting you make a movie about his life, but the minute the reporters spot my son, they’ll see you, and then this easy, comfortable life he and I have is over.”
“I can sell the story about making a movie about your brother if I have to, but a guy taking a sabbatical isn’t flashy. There’ll be other scandals and gossip that’ll overshadow me.”
“You’re on top of the world right now. The movie. The podcast. The awards. The documentary. You walking away from it all while you’reeverywhereis more newsworthy than you quietly ducking out for a leave of absence while things aren’t going well. Andno onewill believe you’re making a movie about a guy who’s effectively a porn star.”
She’s not wrong.
