short chapter today, but it's a humdinger ;)

fever dream

6

The week seems to fly by.

Before I know it, it's Friday and I'm driving to the airport to pick up Carmen. Riley was supposed to land an hour after her, but he called last night to say that he's staying until Sunday now since they didn't get to finish...whatever it is they're doing.

He works for a big oil company and they often end up hitting snags with fracking or production, so I'm used to it.

The kids are, too. They barely react when I tell them that he's going to be home a couple of days later than planned—except to ask if they can still give 'Uncle Edward' his birthday present.

Since Edward has opted to have his party at one of the bars he co-owns, I take the kids over to Carlisle and Esme's on Saturday morning so they can give him the messily wrapped gift Jameson picked out; Jasper and Alice, and Emmett and Rose had the same idea, so I get to hog Vera while the kids pummel the birthday boy with confetti and birthday 'digs,' a British concept Rose introduced them to.

Having a cooing newborn in my arms keeps my hands busy so I can't give Edward a birthday thump on the arm and accidentally grope him. It's a possibility.

It's a scorcher of a day, not a shirt to be seen on any of the guys. In other words—torture.

When it's my kids' turn, Edward "oohs" and "aahs" with enough excitement to light Jameson up like the sky on the Fourth of July, even though I'm sure he's sick of the cartoon ties by now.

"This is great, buddy! I'm going to wear it out tonight," he announces proudly, holding it up in front of himself. " It's the Cookie Monster, right?"

Jameson nods, popping up on his tiptoes to look for Esme. Seeing the cookies on the tie has obviously reminded him that he hasn't eaten in approximately twenty-seven seconds; not acceptable in Jameson's world. "Nana, snack! Snack!" He glances at me before taking off toward Esme. "Nana, please!"

Fiorella offers her uncle a smirk, pulling the bottle bag out from under her seat. "We got you this, too."

Edward plants a kiss on top of her head and shoots me a wink. "Thanks, ladies."

I figured it was only fair that he get something he'll get use out of.

Secretly, I'm hoping he'll save the bottle of McCallan for our next night together. One of our best nights to date was after we tanked a bottle of thirty year-old McCallan; good memories of Edward's last birthday.

Memories I hope are on his mind as Fiorella heads off to join her cousins, leaving us temporarily alone—well, except for Vera.

"So, how's your birthday going so far?"

Leaning back in his chair, Edward stretches his arms behind his head, panty-dropping smirk on his gorgeous face. "It's going. Jury's not out yet on whether it beats last year."

I knew it.

Hiding my smile against Vera's downy soft blonde hair, I enjoy wondering how he'll react to this year's birthday lingerie. I'll be stunned if he doesn't like it even more than last year's.

"What have you got planned for the rest of the day? Anything fun?"

The flare of nerves that crosses his face ignites my curiosity more than I can put into words. It's gone almost before it appeared though, then his murmured "meeting up with some people" gets cut off by Jameson's screech from somewhere inside.

~ fd ~

Unfortunately, I can't spend all day staring at Edward's chest.

Duty calls, so I drop Carmen, Fiorella, and Jameson off at home and head into work. My lead cameraman decided today was a great day to call in sick, so when I get to Notte Oscura Curtis is in a flap and my second camera guy—who's only worked here for a few weeks—looks decidedly green in the face.

"Are you up to this?" I ask firmly, watching his throat bob as he tugs at his collar.

"I—I think so. Greg showed me how to work the rigs and everything."

"Good. This is your moment, then." Glancing at the lanyard hanging around his neck, I try out a smile even though I'm stressed as fuck. "Do a good job today, Stan, and I see a raise coming your way."

Twenty minutes later, Kylie buzzes into the intercom to let me know the Stranger Sessions talent has arrived.

"I'll be there in two," I tell her, even though I've got enough shit to keep me occupied for a week spread across my desk.

After finger-combing my hair in the mirror, I run my hands over my blouse, down my pencil skirt, making sure I'm presentable. I've seen work by the woman in today's shoot before; she's done a few shorts for us previously. The guy is new. Curtis didn't tell me his name, just that he's been on the waitlist for a while and called this week to ask if there was anything coming up he fit the bill for. Lucky for him, the guy Curtis had originally booked for today had dropped out.

When I step out into the hall, bumping into Molly, the female talent, I grin. This guy's one lucky son of a gun. She's a stunner, tall and willowy with natural curves and the darkest eyes I've ever seen.

"Oh my gosh, you're the Nightbird!"

My smile is instinctual. It spreads across my face as quickly as hers disappears, replaced by a slack-jawed look of total awe. It's...humbling. And a little embarrassing.

"It's been a hot sec since I went by that name," I point out gently, trying not to laugh at the almost panicky way she flaps her hands by her face.

"But you're her. I...wow! You're so beautiful, even in person."

At that, I can't help but laugh. "Uh, thank you? I think."

Her face flames. "No! I mean...oh my gosh, I'm, like, totally embarrassing myself." Palming her cheeks, she shakes her head. "I just meant that usually people look different in real life, but you look even more gorgeous."

"Quit inflating her ego, Molls." We both look around, spotting Rose instantly. I arch a brow at her, confused. Strutting down the hall in crimson Louboutins and a dress that enhances everything amazing about her postpartum bod, she looks nothing like the mumsy figure I had brunch with a couple of hours ago. "I'm done with maternity leave. The kids are heaven but being stuck at home all day is bloody hell," she says in answer to my silent question, turning her attention back to Molly. "Studio two is just down the hall, first door on the left, can't miss it."

"Okay." Aiming a megawatt smile at me, Molly blows out a big breath. "It's great to meet you. I know this is kind of weird to say, but you were the first all-natural star I ever saw. You made me realize I could do this without having my boobs done or my lips puffed up like a duck. So, thank you, really."

Hurrying off into studio two, Molly leaves me staring after her with a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through my chest. Something like pride, I think. Looping her arm around my waist, Rose gives me a squeeze.

"Aw, that was nice! What a sweet girl. I forget that you were once the talent, not the boss-woman."

So do a lot of people, but that's because it's been years since I stepped out from behind the camera. These days, I'm strictly a behind-the-scenes figure.

Ten years ago, though? I used to get some of the highest ratings of any porn star in the industry.

My manager at the time swore black and blue that it was because of my 'girl next-door' image.

I don't know if she was right, but I'm positive it had something to do with it. That and my 'will try anything once' attitude, I'm sure.

"All right, let's get the show on the road. Have you seen the guy yet?" Rose asks as we head toward studio two.

"Nope, you?"

"No. Crying shame, really. I heard the make-up girls squealing about him in the bathroom just now." Rose purses her lips, holding the door open for me. "If he's gorgeous, I'm not staying to watch. South of the equator is still a no-go zone for four more weeks and I'm sick to death of watching Em fall asleep after a stellar blowy when there's jack shit he can do for me."

Snorting, I shake my head. Crass and beautifully unfiltered—that's our Rose.

"You can do other stuff, Rose."

She scoffs, flopping down into the seat behind camera three. They're all set up, two pointing toward the enormous four-poster bed against the back wall, one on a rolling mount so that Arnie can follow the action if it moves to the wingback chair, velvet-look ottoman, or thick, fluffy rug fanned out at the foot of the bed.

"Stitches, it's a warzone down there, it's not even worth it. It's been months, babe. Pelvic rest...it's for the birds, I'm telling you. Six bloody months I had to abstain. But Emmett, noooo, he could do whatever he bloody well pleased."

Over my shoulder, I hear the door open and close; one of my hair and make-up girls leads a blindfolded Molly into the room.

"Where…?"

Scanning the room, I decide, "the couch. They can start there." The lighting is great, and the deep purple fabric will look amazing against Molly's olive skin.

Tuning back into Rose's rant, I'm half paying attention to her lack-of-sex lament, half listening to the door on the other side of the room as it opens and shuts, Curtis explaining how this will all work to the other participant in today's shoot.

Distracted, I glance at my watch before flicking my eyes toward Curtis and—

No fucking way.

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