Page 25

SAVANNAH

C al clutched his book with both hands and stared up at me with wide, pleading eyes. “Just one more chapter? Please? The sea monster hasn’t even gotten to the ship yet.”

“Cal, we’ve already read three chapters,” I said, brushing his bangs off his forehead. “It’s way past bedtime.”

He shook his head stubbornly and pulled the covers tighter under his arms. “But I need to know if the crew makes it out. It’s important.”

I sighed, but I was exhausted and it was late. “Not tonight,” I groaned as I pulled myself off his bed, much to his protest. He tried holding me back, but I plucked his fingers off my arm and kissed them lightly.

“Wait! I’m thirsty. Really thirsty.”

“You already had water,” I said, standing. “It’s right there by your bed.”

He eyed the cup with suspicion. “It’s warm now. I need cold water.”

I bit down on the edge of my response and took his cup, walking to the kitchen, filling the cup again with colder water, and bringing it back. He took a single sip and declared, “Okay, now my tummy hurts.”

“Cal, sweetheart, you’re fine. No more stories. No more distractions. Close your eyes.” Leo was waiting for me to finish tucking him in, and I felt so stressed I might snap and shout at him, which I really didn’t want to do.

“But what if I dream about the sea monster? What if it eats the ship and I’m on it and?—”

I leaned in and kissed his temple. “Then you’ll be the hero who saves everyone. Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right outside.” Reaching up, I flicked off the light on his bedside table, leaving only the glow from his nightlight to keep him company.

He frowned but settled into the pillow with exaggerated reluctance, mumbling something about needing to know if the sea monster was going to eat him, and I walked toward the door.

Meanwhile, Leo stood in the hallway, holding a half-empty juice box and looking guilty. “Mama,” he said quietly, “I spilled.”

I crouched in front of him. “Where?” My eyes raked over his red-stained cheeks, and I tried not to be upset or grumpy with him.

He turned and pointed to the front of his dinosaur pajamas, soaked and sticky. “Everywhere.”

I groaned softly and reached for him. “Okay, come on. We need to get you changed.”

This was how a lot of my nights went, though none of them had ever come after such a challenging day at work.

It was days like this I started to convince myself that telling Dominic the truth was the only option.

Because I needed help raising these kids.

Thea had a life of her own and she wouldn’t always be here.

And pretty soon, spilled juice and delayed bedtime would be girl trouble and driving lessons. And I wasn’t ready for any of it.

The second I started unbuttoning Leo’s pajama top, he burst into fresh tears. “But I wanted to sleep in dinos!”

“I know you did, buddy, but they’re wet. You’ll be cold. We’ll wear the rockets tonight, and you can wear dinos tomorrow.” I tugged the pajama top over his head, but he clung to it fiercely and shouted at me.

“But I want dinos now!”

“How about this? Rockets tonight, pancakes in the morning.” My patience was wearing thin, and I knew if I didn’t get him in bed and pour myself a glass of wine, I might really snap.

He sniffed. “With chocolate chips?”

“Yes. And whipped cream.”

His tears slowed, and he let me change him into the clean set, arms sagging at his sides as the fight left him. Once he was zipped up and dry, he climbed into bed with a sigh and pulled his stuffed hippo to his chest.

“Don’t forget pancakes.”

“Never,” I said, pressing a kiss to his forehead before shutting off his light and making my way out of the bedroom. “Goodnight, Leo,” I said, pulling the door shut.

“Night,” he whispered.

I felt wrung out, like every thread holding me together had been tugged too many times.

My limbs ached from crouching beside the bed, and my head buzzed with the static of unfinished thoughts.

I wasn’t tired in the way sleep could fix—I was emptied out, like I’d run out of buffers between my emotions and the surface.

Stretched thin didn’t even begin to cover it.

Parenting through exhaustion had become second nature, but tonight felt heavier somehow.

Thea was curled on the couch with her laptop, but her eyes flicked up the second I stepped into the room.

She didn’t offer her usual smile or quip.

Instead, she watched me, her expression still but alert, her gaze tightening on me.

There was no warmth in her face now, no trace of the easy sarcasm she usually led with.

She was reading me, quietly piecing together what I was stressed about but hadn’t brought up yet.

“They down?”

“Barely. Cal wanted a third chapter of the sea monster one, and Leo staged a full protest about pajamas.” The wine was in my glass, compliments of my best friend who knew me better than anyone in this world.

“Savage.”

I gave a tired smile and collapsed into the armchair across from her. The cushions sighed under my weight, and I let my head fall back. The room was warm and quiet except for the groan of the dishwasher cycling in the background. It should have felt peaceful, but it didn’t.

Thea didn’t say anything or bring up my stress level, but when Finley jumped up on the couch next to her and curled up, she chased him off and stretched her legs out toward me.

She gave it another beat, then said, “You want to tell me what’s really going on?”

I stared at her, long enough for the silence to start pressing in. Her eyes didn’t waver. I reached for my wine and took a slow sip, trying to decide if I could deflect or whether she’d call me on it either way. “What do you mean?”

She closed the laptop and set it aside. “Don’t do that thing where you pretend you’re fine. You’ve been wound up since yesterday, and today you barely touched your dinner; Finley ate the scraps. That only happens when you’re spiraling. So, talk.”

I ran a hand through my hair and dropped my head back against the chair again. The words were there, crowding behind my ribs, but saying them out loud felt like handing over something fragile.

“It’s my dad. And Dominic. And…all of it.”

Thea waited. She always gave space instead of pushing, but she also never let me off the hook. Her silence wasn’t passive. It was intentional, and the longer I held out, the more inevitable it became that I’d have to say it all anyway.

“The blog ran a photo of me and Dominic. It was from the shoot, but they also used an old photo of me holding Leo. Everyone saw it. And I might’ve thought it was a mistake—some intern digging through my social media or a weird oversight—but I don’t know.

Marla is being strange. She definitely messed with my PDF, which I showed you.

And I think she is jealous about me getting this job…

” I heaved out a sigh after venting and gulped the whole glass of wine down.

“Marla the PR vulture…” Thea grunted, and I chuckled with her for a second.

“Yeah, well I told Dominic, and he said they were going to deal with it wisely. But the worst part is, my dad cornered Dominic. Threatened him.”

Thea’s brows lifted. “What?” She sat forward and placed both feet on the ground as she picked up her own glass of wine and sipped while refilling mine.

“I don’t know the whole conversation, but he made it clear he’s not happy about me dating or fake dating him. I don’t get it.” Pressing two fingers to each of my temples, I massaged and willed the wine to kick in and help me relax.

Thea exhaled slowly, her expression shifting from surprise to skepticism.

Her loyalty had always been sharp-edged when it came to my father, and this was just one more betrayal in a long line.

She disappeared into the hallway and when she came back, she was holding a manila folder.

Her expression was unreadable, but I knew her well enough to recognize the tension in her jaw.

“This showed up in our mailbox this afternoon. There was no return address and no note included—just the folder itself…I’m sorry. I opened it,” she said with an added grimace displaying that she felt bad.

She handed it to me and I took it, already bracing myself for whatever I was about to see.

Inside was a single photo and a note. It was grainy and slightly tilted, as if it had been taken from behind a windshield and maybe across the street.

But it was unmistakable. It was me, standing on the sidewalk outside the boy’s preschool, crouched between them as we waited for a cab.

Cal had his backpack twisted around his chest, and Leo’s hand was in mine.

Taped to the back was a yellow sticky note. In thick black ink, someone had scrawled three words:

Who’s your daddy?

My grip on the photo tightened, the edges curling slightly in my grip as I stared at the image again, committing every detail to memory. I lowered the envelope slowly, heart pounding like a jackhammer.

Then my phone buzzed. I had to dig it out of my back pocket, my fingers still stiff from gripping the photo too tightly. I unlocked the screen and blinked at the message staring back at me.

Vanessa: 9:07 PM: Confirmed. You and Dominic are booked for a live interview tomorrow morning. Romantic angle. Outlets have been notified.

I kept my eyes on the screen, hoping the words would change or vanish if I waited long enough. But they didn’t. The message stayed there, and my future was completely unavoidable.

Thea leaned forward. “What now?”

I turned the phone so she could read it.

She let out a sharp breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I shook my head, the beginnings of a headache already curling behind my eyes.

“Live,” I said. “Tomorrow. With cameras and questions and absolutely no way to get out of it. What will my father say now?”

Thea watched me for a long moment, her jaw set and her wine glass resting motionless in her hand. She didn’t ask any more questions. She stared at me, watching me steadily, her brows faintly drawn, as if measuring whether I was still holding it together or about to come apart.

This wasn’t press. It was pressure.