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His hand is tight around the glass, knuckles white. He takes a deep breath—one of those shaky ones, the kind you take when you’re holding back something heavy.

I inch closer, hesitating for only a second before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He turns, surprised, like he didn’t expect me to do that.

That’s when I see it.

Tears. Sitting stubbornly in his eyes, refusing to fall but burning bright all the same.

He blinks, and then he says, “The second date—the woman I went to see… that’s my mother.”

I suck in a breath. “Your mom?”

“Yeah.” He downs the drink in one long pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “We were supposed to work together on an upcoming project. So her manager reached out about a week ago. Said she wanted to see me.”

I sit still, not speaking. Letting him fill the silence with whatever he’s brave enough to say.

“This is the first time I’ve seen her since I was eight years old, Mia,” he says, voice breaking at the edges. “She walked out on me and my dad. Said she wanted to chase her dreams. She didn’t look back. She didn’t.”

His hand trembles as he signals the bartender again. I gently reach over and cover it. “Jack…”

“I always told myself—maybe she didn’t know who I was. Maybe she thought I’d disappeared. I clung to that. It helped me sleep. But today…”

I feel my chest tighten.

“Mia, she knew,” he says. “She freaking knew. She saw me in movies, interviews, headlines. She knew I was her son. And she didn’t say a word. Not one word, Mia. Not until now.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, and I feel him shudder beneath my arm.

“I thought I’d yell. Scream. But I couldn’t do anything except look at her and wonder why. Why now? Why not before? Why wait until I was grown, famous, completely undone?”

“Did she… did she say why?” I ask, gently.

“She said she was ashamed. That she hated herself. That she didn’t think I’d want her anymore.” He lets out a broken laugh. “Isn’t that rich? She left me, but she’s the one scared of rejection.”

I squeeze his hand.

A part of me is relieved that he was meeting his mother, not some secret girlfriend. I feel the heavy weight of jealousy lift from my shoulders, only to be replaced by another emotional weight. One of understanding, finally.

I’m happy that Jack is sharing this pain with me. I finally understand him. All of him. The scandals, the noise, everything. He was calling out as long as he could, hoping his mother would answer. She never did. That type of pain could wreck someone. Despite the wealth and glamor, he’s lived a very hard life.

“I told her I don’t want her in my life. That she doesn’t get to show up now and play mom. I said I couldn’t do the movie. That I couldn’t even stand to be near her.”

He finally turns to me, his eyes bloodshot. “Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No,” I whisper. “It makes you human.”

Jack lets out a laugh, sharp and bitter, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His mouth twists like he’s still bleeding inside, and the sound makes something twist deep in my chest.

I glance toward the far end of the bar—and then I see it.

A group of three people, clustered in the corner, stealing glances and whispering. One of them discreetly lifts a phone, pretending to check it, but their camera lens is angled a little too high.

Shoot.

I lean in close to Jack, my lips accidentally brushing his ear. “We need to go. Some people here are seconds away from figuring out who you are.”

He blinks slowly, dazed. “Where can a man find peace, Mia?”

Without responding, I reach for my purse, slap a few bills onto the counter, and take his hand. “Come on.”