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The day of truth was probably far off, but I dreaded its approach. He was too young to understand the specifics, and I wouldn’t detail them anyway. How could I? Your dad’s mother is a heartless woman who paid me to leave the country and doesn’t care about you. That wasn’t something I could ever say aloud. I refused to let her bitterness touch him. He was a happy, healthy little boy, and I wouldn’t let her ruin that.
I wouldn’t let thoughts of her ruin the first day of rehearsal, either.
As it turned out, I didn’t need her to ruin things. I had barely stepped into the theater before the sound of raised voices made me stop short. “Do me a favor and keep your fucking opinions to yourself!”
It was Oliver, the lighting designer, standing in the center of the stage with his red face and ugly snarl brightly lit. He jabbed a finger at Frank, one of his assistants. “I didn’t ask you to shift the fucking cues around and alter the design. You were supposed to have those cues programmed by now, but you wasted everyone’s time.”
“I told you, there’s a more efficient way to get it done,” Frank bellowed back, his voice filling the space, thanks to the headset and live mic he wore. At least we knew the sound system was working well.
“Once again!” Oliver was almost shaking with rage, so much so that the few techs sharing the stage with them fell back a step or two, exchanging uneasy looks. “I didn’t ask you to make it more efficient. I asked you to get it the fuck done so I wouldn’t end up looking like a smacked ass.”
“You’re doing a pretty good job of making yourself look that way on your own.” Clearly, Frank had decided to take the gloves off and fight dirty.
“Enough!”
I gasped at Jackson’s sudden entrance from offstage. He damn near stormed up to them, fists swinging at his sides. “Dammit, do you think anyone wants to witness this shit when they show up to work?” he asked, standing between the men who looked ready to start throwing punches a moment ago. “Let me tell you, they don’t. Now, what happened here?”
My God. Just when I thought he couldn’t get hotter—so commanding, so strong and forceful.
The man had the power to silence conversation and end fights with his mere presence. He also had the wisdom to steer the conversation quietly, listening to both sides before offering his thoughts. He was a good leader.
He would have made a great father.
Don’t do it. Don’t hurt yourself this way.
Maybe I was feeling weak or just a little lonely after years spent as Mama, with all my needs being pushed aside except for a couple of brief flings that went nowhere. It didn’t matter why. Watching Jackson calmly diffuse the technicians stirred something in me I wished it wouldn’t. He handled everything with kindness and reason but wasn’t a pushover.
“If you two can’t find a way to work together without arguing, we’re going to have a problem. Do we understand each other?” Jackson asked, folding his arms as he looked back and forth between the men.
“Yeah, sure,” Oliver mumbled, running a hand over his head and looking sheepish.
“Sorry, boss. Just one of those things.” Frank nodded in agreement, jamming his hands into his pockets.
“It happens,” Jackson murmured. “Let’s not let it happen again. If anyone has a problem, take it to Harrison. If Harrison’s not around, bring it to me.”
As they nodded and dispersed, Jackson left the stage and walked up the aisle to the technicians’ table. He dropped into a seat with a deep sigh, then noticed me watching from the aisle opposite the one he’d used.
“Well done,” I said, offering a soft clap the way he’d done after watching me talk to my people.
He pretended to wipe sweat from his brow and chuckled as I approached. “It’s like wrangling toddlers sometimes.”
What a choice of words. All I could think of was the toddler whose smile so closely resembled his father’s, whose twinkling eyes and dimples flashed when he was up to something mischievous. I had fallen for those dimples once, and Liam reminded me of that every day.
“You wrangle them pretty well,” I said, sitting beside him, though I knew I shouldn’t. He had no idea how lonely I was without him, and he’d never know. I’d never tell him what it meant to be near him, to hold a secret I had to keep. Not without risking everything—Mom’s care, her health, it would all go to hell if Diana wiped me out in court.
When he turned to me with a rueful yet charming grin, a familiar longing stirred inside me to be close, touch the hand sitting on the armrest between us, and rest my head on his shoulder and tell him we’d get through all of this craziness together. It was a longing I barely resisted, especially when our eyes met.
“I hope your morning’s been better than mine,” he offered with a sigh. “We’ve got a long day ahead.”
My breath caught when he held my gaze for an extra beat, tempting me to drown in those hypnotic amber eyes. Was he feeling what I felt, fighting what I fought? Professional, Winter. You’re supposed to be professional. “It’s been okay,” I replied, leaving out the part where our son peed a little in his bed last night and woke up in wet jammies. “What time are we meeting the set designers and crew?” I already knew the answer. I just wanted to change the subject, not to mention it was an excuse to stay a moment longer. No matter how dangerous it was to spend this much time with him, I couldn’t resist.
He rubbed his temples. “Everything’s mixed up in my head. Maybe I need Audra as my assistant too.”
Somehow, I managed a laugh. Yet another lie I had to keep track of. “I keep her busy enough already. Anyway, I think the meeting’s at eleven, and they’re bringing in lunch.”
“Right.” Nodding firmly, he looked my way and made me forget to breathe again. “Let’s hope all the stupid drama is done for the day.”
“Your lips to God’s ears,” I joked, standing as the dancers began warming up.
