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I blink about ten thousand times, unsure what to make of any of this as I attempt to keep up with his long strides. Stupid tall people. “I don’t have much news to catch you up on.”

“See, now that’s not true. I met your wanker of an ex last night.”

I twist to catch his profile, but he’s got his head down, lowered to ward off the icy wind and people passing us, rendering his face and expression unreadable.

“That sounds like you’re fishing.”

He glances up and grins wickedly. “I am. I love good gossip. I have the magazine to prove it.”

I snort. “I can’t believe you bought them.”

“It’s good to see what they’re saying and if any of it is true. I have to know how closely they’re tracking me or if they’re simply making up rubbish to sell a paper.”

“Jesus, Loomis, you really don’t have it easy right now.”

“Darling, you don’t know the half of it.” He pauses and points to a blue door. “This is me. If you still want to come inside.”

5

Loomis

“You knowyou only live about four blocks from me. No wonder we’ve started running into each other,” Keegan says as she looks around my small first-floor flat. “How long have you been in town?”

“About a week. We start filming here in a month, and there are some pre-production things I have to attend to. I like this neighborhood. It’s quiet and the buildings are old, which reminds me of home.”

“Boston definitely has old going for it. This is a cute place. This is where you stayed last time you were here, right?”

“Yes. Good memory. Though back then it was just me, and now it’s me and Fen, so it likely wasn’t the best choice.”

She follows me into the kitchen, where I have the remnants of breakfast on the counter, some dishes in the sink, and my script on the table. I have no idea what I’m doing. I texted her last night to find out about her wrist, and when she didn’t reply, I told myself I wasn’t disappointed. I told myself I was going to let it go. Then I saw her in the supermarket, and I spent the betterpart of my shopping trip following her as I placed items I doubt I needed in the trolley while poor, sick Fen slept.

So yeah, I have no idea what I’m doing. Or why I invited her here. Maybe it’s because she makes me smile when smiles other than for Fen have been hard to come by lately. Maybe it’s because I trust her in a way I don’t trust many people because her face is an open book, showcasing her emotions and displaying her vulnerabilities, whereas I hide everything from everyone without exception. A necessity I learned as a child.

Or maybe it’s because I’m so out of sorts I hardly know how to make sense of my life anymore, and I’m hoping some of Keegan’s sweet perfection will rub off on me. Just for a little while.

I could use a friend.

That wasn’t a lie, and I don’t even care if it makes me sound weak or desperate. I have Tinsley, but she has Stone, and I can’t help but feel isolated and alone. I have more problems than I know how to handle. Lack of a nanny problems, secret son problems, work problems, and instead of things feeling easier, they’re getting harder.

I put my things away in near silence, watching Keegan out of the corner of my eye as she continues scanning from space to space. Fen gives a little cough in his sleep, but it’s not enough to rouse him. He slept horribly last night, his nose unbearably stuffy, and with that, I didn’t sleep any better.

She bends and examines his sleeping face and red, runny nose. “He has a cold, huh?”

“A small one. But Fallon Monroe promises it’s nothing more serious than that. He also got a shot last night, so that exacerbates his symptoms.”

Keegan nods. That’s it.

It’s a bit awkward, and I realize at this moment I don’t know her all that well. She’s the sort of person who makes you feel as ifyou’ve known her your entire life within minutes of meeting her. It’s comforting and puts you at ease. But the truth is, we’ve spent some time together here and there, but other than knowing about her family, that she’s a doctor, is playful, a bit quirky in a fun and endearing way, kind as the day is long, is in love with all things Boston sports, and won’t eat raw fish, I don’t know much else. Which again brings me back to, what the fuck am I doing?

Here I am, about to trust her with my biggest secret. With my life, essentially.

Suddenly I’m second-guessing everything, and that’s never been who I am.

I discover I’m standing here immobile in my kitchen, a packet of nappies in my hand, my gaze locked on her, and my heart thundering in my chest.

“I told him I loved him,” she blurts out of absolutely nowhere, and I find the random and slightly nonsensical thought snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what? Who?”