I’ve seen too many students who’ve turned into a shell of themselves because of family issues. I patch up the kids as best as I can, offering them a comforting space, somewhere they feel seen, valued, and loved. Somewhere their pain can get an outlet in the art therapy I call lessons. I’ll always dedicate my everything to help them overcome their losses and make sure their scars don’t define their future in devastating ways.
I know from experience. I’m not sure who I would be if my seventh-grade art teacher hadn’t helped me after my dad had a heart attack. She’s long since retired, but I vowed to be that light for other children. I’ll be that for Belle.
Even though Belle is so much younger than I was, I see the familiar pattern in her. Rarely sharing her feelings, pretending she doesn’t need anyone—there’s deep hurt just below the surface that she’s determined to mask.
That pattern is also Ronan’s, I realize. He’s got his own mask of chilly indifference back on.
My hand falls from his chest. After that first flash of anger left, my anxious mind is already bent on doing what I always do. I want to soothe and smooth things over.
I’m still jittery from the former flash of adrenaline as I reach into my teacher’s bag of tricks. The positive reinforcement. The compliment sandwich. The clear expectations. They work when I command a classroom full of students. They work on defensive parents when their child won’t follow the rules. Will they work on a movie star? That remains to be seen.
Ronan hasn’t responded to my speech; he just watches me.
I clear my throat. “That was a good talk.” I nod as if the matter is settled. “I’m sure you’d like to know how to make this up to Belle. Getting her a Christmas tree would be a fabulous start. Belle told me she’s never decorated a tree before. You’re a loving father, so I know you’ll do what makes her happy. I’m sure you can find the time to get a tree together and decorate it. Even if you won’t be here for Christmas, it will mean a lot to her. It’s such a nice thing for you to do,” I praise.
Ronan watches me warily, poised, a prizefighter ready for another round.
Set clear expectations. “I have complete faith that you will find the time to do this for Belle.”
I nod as if it’s settled, turn, and make my way up the stairs, and it might be my imagination, but I feel his confused gaze following me the whole way up.
CHAPTER16
22 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS
Ronan
“So what you’resaying is you need to leave early because you’re in trouble with the nanny?” Sebastian cracks up. He turns to Chase. “Chase, did you hear this? The toughest dude on the planet is in deep shit with the nanny, and so we’re all rearranging our schedules.”
“I’m not in trouble with the nanny,” I growl.
Okay. Maybe I am, but I don’t need to share that level of detail with them. I talked to the director weeks ago about needing to spend more time with Belle and asking him to reduce my hours on set. We talked about me doing fewer stunts. Unfortunately, my requests had gotten stalled somewhere. Today, I’d had a moreurgentdiscussion with production, and this time, actual changes have been fast-tracked.
“And we’re not rearranging everyone’s schedules. I’m just not doing as many stunts. And I’m not putting up with production wasting my time waiting on everyone else when they show up late and screw around.” I stare pointedly at Sebastian.
“Admit it. You have a hot nanny. You’ve been all over your phone with the same moony smile Chase gets when he talks to Olivia.”
I glare at Sebastian.
“Sebastian,” Chase says lazily. “Do you remember when you asked me to warn you when you were pushing things too far?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re pushing things too far. A little more and you’re gonna get punched by Ronan, and I wouldn’t blame him for it.”
“You’re always on his side,” Sebastian grumbles.
“Just trying to help, man.”
“So?” Sebastian asks. “What did Abrahms and production say about your requests?”
“That they’re going to make it work.”
“Abrahms is a dad too,” Chase says. “I’m sure he gets it.”
Francesca struts over and leans down, her arms coming around me. I do a side step, trying to disentangle myself. I don’t mind Francesca, but she’s gone too far in her flirting with me lately. My guess is it’s to make Sebastian jealous. But I can’t risk another picture of us getting out on social media.
I recall Poppy’s anger the other day. She was a warrior for Belle, fierce and protective. I was defensive; I admit it. Disappointing Belle like that broke me in ways I still can’t fully process. All my fears about not measuring up, not being able to be the father she needs, came true. And I shut down.
