I can’t help but slap a palm to my forehead. “Right! Well?”
“We’re extending the break. No one is ready to immerse ourselves into LTZ. We also decided for any future tours, they’ll be short enough so our families can come with us. We can even design our own custom tour bus.” Connor scrubs his hands through his curls. “I’m so relieved.”
As am I. “Well, that’s great news.”
“I know.”
I gaze at his kind, amber eyes. God, I miss my husband. “I love you, Con. I hate to hang up, but I’m so tired. I’d like to get these guys back to bed so I can sleep.”
“I know. I love you too.” He puckers his lips and kisses me through the screen. “Think about coming up for a couple of weeks. It would be grand, so it would.”
I nod. “Okay. It sounds wonderful. If I can swing it, I’ll make it happen.”
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to get the boys settled back down again. As for me, I’m wide awake. I didn’t expect to change my mind about going to Seattle. Connor’s been bugging me about it every night. Something shifted today, and suddenly I can think of nothing else. It’s not even nine, so I call Kris.
She answers and waves at me through the screen. She’s on the move, so I get a little seasick trying to watch her. “You must have ESP. Gulliver Rafferty’s contract came in. They’re putting the final budget together, but it looks like we’ll be in Ireland in August through October. Postproduction here. Aiming for a holiday release to qualify for an Oscar.”
“Wow. That’s ambitious. I didn’t think we had a shot in hell of getting the hottest Irish actor on the planet.” I’m so giddy, it feels like a million sunbeams have entered my body. Funny the difference two hours can make in a girl’s life.
Kris holds up a finger. “There’s something else. I didn’t want to say anything because you’ve obviously had your hands full.” The screen pans to the floor and I hear a door shut. When her face reappears, I can see she’s in her production office. “Okay, I wanted to tell you this behind closed doors. I had lunch with the Netflix execs today. We are a couple of days away from officially getting this series greenlighted. Apparently, there are minimal notes. As long as the contracts come through the way we negotiated, you and I have casting to do in December. We’ll finish preproduction in the new year and film late winter-early spring.
I’m stunned silent. Hours ago, when I was losing my mind, I wanted to turn back the clock. Resuming my busy filming schedule seemed like a dream compared to changing diapers and feeling like a human feeding vessel. Faced with the reality, I’m so conflicted. I’ve worked my entire career for these types of opportunities.
Before I had sons. I don’t want to miss a thing with them, despite my internal breakdown earlier. This schedule is insane. Even if Ididn’thave my babies to consider.
“Wow,” is all I can muster.
Kris cocks her head. “I know you’re a bit overwhelmed. Did you get my text? Allison will be at your disposal tomorrow; she’ll have an excellent nanny hired within a day. She’ll also arrange for you to have a full-time housekeeper.”
“Thank you.” I’m a bit choked up. Kris always looks out for me. I appreciate it. She sees me struggling. As supportive as she is being, she just doesn’t get how hard it is. How tired I am all the time. How overwhelmed I feel just getting through the day.
How much I struggle keeping up with my side of our workload.
Or if I even want to keep up.
Kris smiles at me warmly. “Your dreams are coming true, Ronni.”
I manage a big, fake smile.
“Oh.” She holds up a finger. “I’ve hired a PR firm for our production company. They are adamant about turning the narrative around on the negative press you got about your relationship with Connor.”
“What do you mean?” Most of the stuff with our relationship has long died down. My hackles are up. I’ve spent most of my acting career cultivating press. Knowing how and when to alert the paparazzi. Working my angles. Controlling the story. Hell, it’s how I was able to build such an iron-clad case against Don Kircher—trading faux-relationships for press.
God, I don’t want to put my real relationship in the spotlight. Not willingly.
Kris squeezes her eyes shut then lets out a breath. “You’re going to hate this. They want to feature you, Connor and the boys…”
“No.” I hold my hand up to the phone for emphasis.
”Hear me out. “ Kris ignores me. “You aren’t going to be holed up in your house forever. People are going to figure out you’ve had children with him. I think a holiday article—it doesn’t have to be a cover or anything—with some well-wishes from Ty and Zoey would go a long way in quashing all of the negativity.”
I palm my forehead. My breath feels erratic. I’m stressed. “I’ll ask Connor. It will be up to him.”
“It will legitimize your career shift.” She regards me solemnly. In that moment, I know I have to do it. If I’m going to be taken seriously on the business side of things, having the public think I’m a band whore is not going to help.
God. It seems so superficial. No, itissuperficial. My priorities are shifting. Of course I want to achieve success as a producer. But I want to prove to myself—and to Connor—that I’m just as capable being a mom to these little guys.
Is exposing my little family to the press the right thing for us?