Kline smiled at her, his heart in his eyes, and then turned back to me with a wink and lowered his voice when he noticed the change on my face. He could sense the realization I’d just come to like an infrared sensor could sense a human being.
“My little boy is growing up.”
I scratched the side of my face with my middle finger.
“And thank God for that,” he went on. “Because I definitely can’t lift you any longer, and I’d rather do just about anything than help you in the bathroom.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Fuck off.”
Georgia turned back to us with her eyebrows in her hairline. “What’d I miss?”
Both of us answered at the same time.
“Nothing.”
It didn’t happen often, but this moment was just between us.
“Although I love being your source of entertainment, I’m going to head out,” I said and pushed off the wall. “Keep Cassie company for me.”
As I walked toward the exit door, Kline’s voice asked from behind me, “Where are you headed?”
“I’ve got some errands to run.”
“But Cassie’s still here,” Georgia said, probably out of displeasure that she couldn’t watch me act like a deranged lunatic more than anything else.
“I know,” I said over my shoulder as I pushed the door open. Sunlight filtered into the darkened hallway, and I turned to face them with my back holding the door open. “She’s good. Should anything happen, she’s surrounded by everyone I trust. And more than that, I trust her. She’s going to be the best mother to our baby—because she already is. She’s doing all this for us. It’s time I start realizing that.”
Georgia’s face turned down in disappointment. “Not gonna lie, Thatch, I was really enjoying the whole stalking bit.”
I grinned, and she returned my smile. This time, her voice was soft and one hundred percent serious.
“But I’m also enjoying this side of you, too.”
I winked and headed out into the parking lot, confident that my favorite woman on the planet was also the very best woman to watch out for our baby. There was something I needed to do before this outrageous weekend came to a close.
While everyone broke down the set and packed up our equipment, I made it a priority to find Georgia and Kline. I’d see them wandering around the shoot, hand in hand and with the biggest goddamn smiles on their faces. But it wasn’t just the smiles that’d had my Spidey-senses on high alert. It was the constant glances I’d noticed Georgia take as she walked around the set. Like she had been looking for something. Like she was up to something.
Yeah, something was definitely the opposite of motherfuck-fluffing down.
I slid my camera bag over my shoulder and strode toward the hallway I’d last seen Big Dick and Wheorgie strolling. As I turned the corner, I found their backs to me, hunched over a phone, too riveted by whatever they were looking at to notice me coming up behind them.
“Boo!” I shouted when I was a mere two feet from them.
Georgia squeaked in surprise while Kline remained unfazed, slyly locking his phone screen and slipping it into his back pocket.
“Jesus, Cass!” she exclaimed with a hand to her chest. “You scared the crap out of me! I nearly peed myself.”
Kline just chuckled and wrapped his arm around her waist, tucking her into his side.
“What are you guys doing down here?”
Her eyes went wide for a beat before she schooled her face into neutrality. Georgia had been practicing her lying skills. “Uh… Just—”
Kline chimed in. “Georgie was looking over Leslie’s Instagram.”
“Oh, hel-ck yes!” I held out my hand. “Let me see! I want to see what Loose Leslie has been up to lately.”
Surprisingly, Kline obliged, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking the screen before opening his Instagram app.
I snuck a glance at Georgia and noted her silent panic as he handed me his phone. I looked through his Instagram searches, and sure enough, there she was, @LaLaLeslieLaLa, the most recent search in his browser.
Kline might have been smart enough to cover their devious tracks, but my ears didn’t miss the sigh of relief escape from Georgia’s lips.
These two knew something I didn’t, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.
Right the fluffernutter now.
I pretended to scroll through Leslie’s pictures, even though I already followed her account religiously. This chick’s social media was better than the Kardashians hopped up on meth, posting Snapchat videos. I paused on one very ridiculous photo of Leslie with a shot glass nestled inside her cleavage. Her jet black locks had been dyed blonde, and her cliché comment of “Blonds have more fun. Winky face” sat below the picture.