The noise is constant.
The sun is hot.
I jiggle our son on my hip, weaving my way through the crowds. This sight would probably be overwhelming to a regular person, but hey, I work on big movie sets like these. I eat, sleep, breathe this chaos. It’s my high.
And though I’ve taken a break lately to spend time with the little one currently drooling on my shoulder, I’ll be back before long. I miss it.
Hey, maybe Franklin will let me come hang out behind the scenes on his new show while I breastfeed. My uncle’s a sucker for playing hide and seek.
“Darla?” A passing runner slows, her high black ponytail swinging side to side. A bright smile spreads over her face. “We haven’t seen you here for a while. Oh my gosh, who’s this little guy?”
I wait, chatting idly as the runner coos over my son. Everyone on set lost their minds over Jesse Hendry’s adorable, chubby-cheeked baby.
“Is he around?” I ask at last, not wanting to linger in the sun. The runner startles, then points to a nearby trailer with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry! Go right ahead. Jesse’s got a break before we need him in makeup again.”
My husband is a busy man these days. Always in demand at work and whenever he sets foot in public. Everybody wants a piece of him.
Too bad. I hush my wriggly baby as I stride toward the trailer. Jesse Hendry’s all mine.
“Tell them I need a few minutes—Darla?” Jesse beams when he realizes it’s me, not a random crew member. He sets the script he was reading down on a table, then hurries to usher me inside.
His trailer is messy. Filled with water bottles and the dried mango he snacks on non-stop, and a stack of spare diapers in the corner.
There’s a framed photo of the two of us on our wedding day, right in the eye line of the doorway where every visitor can see. The sight of it makes my eyes prickle, and I clear my throat.
Pregnancy hormones, man. When exactly do they go away?
“I got bored,” I tell him flatly. Because I love my baby with my whole heart, but it’s still true. “There are only so many puppet shows I can watch in one day.”
My husband turns his dimples on me. “That’s fair. Actually, I got a sitter for us tonight. It was going to be a surprise. You remember Maisie?”
Sure: Maisie’s an elderly lady who lives on our street and fusses over our son every time we push the stroller past. She’s watched him a couple of times before, and it’s so great. Like handing him over to mission control. The lady knows what she’s doing.
“Perfect,” I breathe, sagging against the nearest flat surface. “I love him so much, I do, and I don’t want to go back to work yet, but a night off would be…”
“Titillating.” Not the word I was going for, but Jesse’s eyes sparkle as he runs a fingertip down my arm. A blush blooms over my chest beneath my clothes. “I’ll make it a night to remember. I promise.”
I bet he will. Jesse Hendry has played a lot of roles over the last five years, but the one he’s always taken most seriously ishusband.
“You’re a godsend.”
His lips find my jaw. “It’s what you’re owed, baby.”
My breath hitches and I sway forward, but the watery gurgle from my shoulder jolts me back to earth.
“Later,” Jesse says, stepping back before planting a kiss on our son’s head. If those thick brown tufts are anything to go by, he’ll be his father’s spitting image one day. “Later, you’re all mine.”
Yup.
Later, and right now, too.
Every minute of every damn day.
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