When her eyes look up at me, I stare back without a word. No lies. No argument. I've lied and lied and lied again and I'm just too emotionally exhausted to do it again. And she's too smart to fall for it anyway. Tenley nods at me as if accepting my silence as the answer and her eyes well with tears. But she smiles and turns and carries Dylan into the house.
I feed Dylan a snack in the living room, with Tenley’s help, while the other people she brought set up the camera equipment and lighting and two actors do their own makeup in the dining room. When I bring him upstairs for his nap, Tenley comes with me and once he’s settled she heads downstairs to finish prepping for her shoot. I stay upstairs, sit on the bed, and contemplate calling Tate. He needs to know what happened but I don’t want him to yell at me. This isn’t my fault. And I also don’t want him to get so upset it throws him off his game. They play Vancouver tonight and then get on a flight home first thing in the morning.
We haven't really talked since our fight before he left. I interviewed four nanny candidates yesterday at a coffee shop around the corner. Two were good matches. I sent him their names and my notes via email. He texted back that he would set up second interviews. And other than sending him shots of Dylan, we don't speak.
I start to text him now, but then erase it and then text again and then erase it, and then… there’s a soft knock on the door. Tenley pokes her head in. She shoots me a smile. “Have you told him I know yet?”
“No,” I admit.
“Well, it can wait. Come watch the action downstairs.” Tenley motions for me to get up and out of the room. “Ever seen a film being shot? It’s fun. Plus I’m the director on this so you can watch me boss people around.”
Her grin gets wider and I laugh a little and head downstairs with Tenley.
Chapter11
Mallory
As soon as we get downstairs she starts commanding everyone, giving orders and directions and everyone listens and scurries around quickly. She’s not rude about it or anything. She’s just authoritative.
She tells me to sit in the dining room and watch. A guy walks by me, holding a camera. He’s a big, hulking guy with dark wavy hair and sparkling blue eyes. He’s hot. So hot I’m not sure why he’s behind a camera instead of in front of one. As he brushes by me again he gives me a smile and I smile back. It feels awkward but if he notices, he doesn’t react.
The scene in the kitchen is about a mom confronting a daughter about having lied about something. I'm half-paying attention, half lost in my thoughts. But it is interesting to see the behind-the-scenes view of this. Tenley is incredible too. She's an entirely different person than the girl I knew growing up. She's so professional and focused. No hint of the party girl who loved to throw social grenades around like confetti, starting trouble and walking away with a smile.
The shoot is done before Dylan even wakes from his nap and Tenley announces she’s staying the night here, so everyone else has to take the equipment back to the school for her, in their cars. The handsome camera dude groans. “Ten, you promised us all beers at the Saddle Ranch after this.”
“Yeah, well, rain check,” Tenley says, reaching up to pat his broad shoulder. “I need to bond with my brother’s baby mama.”
“That’s not me,” I announce and now every eye in the place is locked on me. I stand up, the dining chair making a squeak as it slides back. “I’m Dylan’s nanny, Ten. Not his mom.”
“But… well, where the hell is the…” And then it hits her. She must have heard about Diana’s death. She still has ties to Silver Bay and I've seen mention of Di's death popping up on local friend's social media in the last couple of weeks as the news spread.
Tenley’s eyes widen and fill with tears. “Diana?”
I nod.
The hot guy, whose name I still don’t know looks between the two of us. Trying to figure out what the hell is going on, I’m sure. Tenley takes a shuddering breath and her hands lift to her mouth. “Oh my God, that poor boy.”
She walks out of the room and out the front door, probably to collect her thoughts and emotions. I get it. I just dropped one hell of a bomb. Hot guy is collecting cables, and the actors are grabbing their things to leave. The sound woman is also gathering her things and the light guy is already on his way out the door.
The silence makes my stress levels escalate. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. And then I hear someone speak. The voice is deep and close. “Well, I have no idea what drama we’ve just stepped into but I, for one, am happy you aren’t the mother to Ten’s brother’s baby. Because now I can ask for your number and not get punched by Tenley.”
My head spins and I find him looking at me with a friendly but sheepish grin. The man has a toothpaste commercial smile. “You’re joking right?”
“No. You’re cute,” he tells me flatly. “And this seems like a hell of an interesting meet cute, so why not?”
“You know the term meet cute?”
“I’m studying film, so yeah,” he says and extends his hand. “I’m Fisher by the way. Fisher Adamson.”
“Mallory. Echolls.”
“My favorite hockey player growing up was Beau Echolls.”
“My uncle.”
“Of course.” He grins. “Any friend of Tenley’s is always hockey or hockey adjacent.”
I smile. I can’t believe it because of everything going on, but I smile. He grins back. “So…? Digits?”
