gentle reminder that for a couple like these two, the whole 'being with each other after someone else' might not be such an issue...B used to be in front of the camera, remember. and on with the show! I mean, night mare...
fever dream
8
Christ, what curled up in my mouth and died?
Licking my dry lips, I flip over in bed, palming my pounding forehead while I wonder what time it is and whether I have time to soak in the bath before—
"Mama! Mama, Mama, Mama!"
Guess not.
"I've got him."
The bed shifts, and even that little movement makes my poor stomach flip-flop. I feel seasick. Ugh.
Riley leans over to press a sweet kiss against my forehead before he climbs out of bed, and I...that doesn't help.
God, I'm a fucking mess.
"I'll bring you a coffee and some Advil in a sec. Let me just see what Jameson wants."
"'Kay," I croak, reaching for the bottle of water I must have had the forethought to bring to bed with me. Go, Drunk Bella. One point for you.
Listening to him pad down the hallway to Jameson's room, I wait for our son's screams when he realizes it's not me who's come to get him, but a few minutes later the patter of little feet thump down the stairs followed by Riley's heavier steps.
Reaching blindly for my phone, I wince when I see that I've been tagged in a bunch of photos on Facebook, probably by Alice who insists on documenting every-damn-thing, even the drunk moments you never want to revisit. I've also got two texts—one from Rose, letting me know she and Em made it home okay; we shared a cab, but their place is further out than ours so they dropped us off first. The other is from Edward, which makes me groan loud enough that I'm reminded of the headache pounding away at my skull.
Chewing my lip, I hover my thumb over the unread message, debating…
"Mama?"
Fiorella hovers in the doorway, flashing me her father's smile when I toss my phone back onto the nightstand and lift up the covers in invitation. When she's curled up with me, blankets up to our chins, heads facing each other on the pillows, she purses her lips and sighs. In that moment, she looks just like me when I'm concentrating.
"Do you...how do you know when a boy likes you?"
That's...totally not what I was expecting.
"Umm, it, uh, it depends. Do you have...do you like someone?"
Her cheeks turn crimson, just one of the many delightful traits she inherited from me. "Sorta. There's this boy at school...his name is Josh. He sits next to me in biology, and he's on the football team."
Ah, I see.
Fiorella has been taking dance classes since she was three, but it wasn't until she hit fifth grade that she decided she wanted to try cheerleading. I'm glad she did, because she's incredible at it. Her coach says, even now at just twelve, she sees her going all the way with it. That being said, it makes sense that she's getting to know some of the football players since they practice on the same days and hang around in the same areas.
"This Josh, do I know him?"
Her brows furrow a little. "I don't know, maybe? You've probably seen him before." She averts her gaze, which makes me deathly curious. "He's, umm, Chloe's brother. In sixth grade."
A year older. Now I see why she's nervous.
"Fi, piccolina, look at me."
She does, hesitantly. Cupping her precious face in my hand, I smile. "I remember him. He's a sweet boy. Kind and takes care of his sisters." He has three, if I'm not mistaken. Chloe, who's on the cheer team with Fi, and two others, both younger. "Does he like you?"
"Mama," she groans, turning her face into the pillow. I can't help but laugh even though it hurts my poor head. "I don't know how to tell." Her voice is all muffled, but I get the gist.
Running my fingers through her hair, I breathe a soft sigh and wonder when my baby girl got so grown up that she's thinking about boys and wondering if they like her. Five minutes ago she thought they had cooties and wanted nothing to do with them.
"Fi, angioletta mia, any boy would be lucky to have you pay him any attention at all. But you're twelve years old and you have your whole life ahead of you, plenty of time for boys to catch your eye, si?"
"Si, Mama. I just...Chloe asked if I'd go on a date with him if he asked, and I don't know."
"Then you don't know," I tell her gently but firmly, smiling when she turns her head to eye me pensively. I'm honored that she thinks I have all the answers, but the truth is I'm so clueless I've worked my way past tragic back into 'have no idea' territory. "If he asks, you decide then. And if you still don't know, you tell him that. If he's worth your time, he'll wait."
Shifting to curl up against my chest, her head tucked under my chin where it rested a thousand times when she was a baby wanting comfort, then a toddler who wouldn't nap anywhere but on me, then a child who'd skin her knees insisting she could keep up with all her older, bigger friends, she finally relaxes.
"Grazie, Mama. You're the best."
Couldn't be further from the truth, piccolina, I think, but the longer I can let her believe it, the better.
~ fd ~
"I still can't believe it." Rose sits across from me, eyes wide, head occasionally shaking side to side in disbelief.
I rub my temples, praying the Advil kicks in soon.
"Did you know? Did you know he was going to do that?"
"No," I growl, trying not to glare at her. It's not her fault I'm mad right now—or that I'm so hungover it feels like my liver is trying to crawl up and out of my body. "Of course I didn't. I never would have let him."
Not for the reasons she thinks, but still.
We're talking about Edward's foray into porn, obviously.
It's been the topic of conversation in the office all morning because the editing team sent over the promo shots for his and Molly's video and...yeah.
If I could put my business head on and look at the promo materials purely objectively, I'd be rubbing my hands together. The stills the team have chosen are one thing, but there are two GIFs…
Rose reaches for the mouse and I let her, the flutter in my stomach when she hits 'play' on the first one nothing to do with the insane amount of alcohol I consumed last night.
Black and white, a close-up of Edward's face. I was there though. I can picture the whole scene. I don't think I'll ever forget it.
He's sitting at the foot of the bed, legs spread, elbows resting on thick thighs. In the three second clip his tongue darts out, brushing over his full lower lip, and the catchlights in his eyes spark.
It's simple, but effective.
And it's already driving people wild.
The promo team posted it in the subscribers forum late last night as soon as it was ready and the hits on it went through the roof. We haven't had this much traffic on an initial teaser since one of the girls from Too Hot To Handle did a cameo for us a couple of years ago. I've been getting calls about it all morning.
The one person I haven't heard from that I expected to is 'Anthony' himself.
Not since his text this morning, anyway, which doesn't really count since it was just a two-word message that I don't even really understand.
You win.
I win, what?
I'd already decided to swing by his place once I had the kids bathed, dressed, and fed, then I got the call that I needed to come to the studio. So...here I am. No closer to finding out exactly what Edward was playing at and with a headache rapidly moving into migraine territory.
"This one is even worse. Or better. Bloody hell, I don't even know."
Against my better judgement, I look at the screen. Over and over, on a three-second loop, I watch Molly sink to her knees, the camera angled over Edward's shoulder so you can see every delicious ridge of his pecs and abs as Molly's giant doe eyes gaze up at him.
"Who knew our brother-in-law was such a stud, huh?"
Oh, God.
"I'm going to vomit."
Rose's laughter follows me into my bathroom. I slam the door, bowing over the toilet as I heave and heave, nothing coming up except memories of Edward and Molly together. Squeezing my eyes shut, I will them away, cursing because it's all I can see.
That, and the way he looked when he spotted me and Riley at the club last night.
He looked wrecked. Truly gutted.
I feel sick even thinking about it.
~ fd ~
For three weeks, I avoid Edward.
He avoids me, too. I check my phone almost obsessively every day before I leave the office, wondering if this is it and I've finally broken him, us, then wondering if that will be the day he texts.
If he's smart, he won't. He'll forget all about the last two years and move on.
The days go by filled with cheer practice and Fiorella's thirteenth birthday party prep, Jameson's therapies, and fielding questions from Riley about why I would book back-to-back meetings on Friday when he wrote 'picnic at the park with everyone' on the schedule weeks ago.
"I'm sorry, okay? It totally slipped my mind. I can't reschedule now, some of the investors have flown in."
It's not a total lie—one of my two investors did fly in this week for these meetings. He's also here for his daughter's wedding this weekend, though.
Riley sighs through his nose, pinching the bridge for good measure as though I can't tell that he's really pissed.
Splaying my hand over his chest, I apologize, again. "Look, I'll come over and meet you there as soon as we finish. Hopefully the meetings won't run too long and I'll make it in time to whoop your butt at flag football."
At that, he smiles. Just a little, but it's there. Winding his arms around my waist until I'm tucked against his chest, ear over his heart, he presses a kiss against my crown. "Promise?"
"I promise."
"All right." The chirp of his watch is his last reminder that he needs to get going, so he's off in a flash with a flurry of "I love yous" and "see you laters" from the kids and Carmen, respectively.
"Tesorina, what are your plans for the day?"
Avoiding Carmen's gaze, I slip some paperwork off the kitchen table and tuck it into my purse. "I've got to run to the office for a couple of hours, then I'll pick you all up so we can go for dinner. Sound good?"
Fiorella is distracted by her cell phone; she's probably texting Josh. They went on their first date yesterday, just to the cinema to watch some new animated movie, but still. My baby girl is growing up. And Jameson flops backward on the rug, looking at me upside-down as he says his new favorite word.
"Unc-Ed." It's a mash-up between 'uncle' and 'Ed,' and I can only assume he's put it together spending time over at Carlisle and Esme's; Fiorella has mentioned that Edward's been over there with them a few times in the last couple of weeks.
"Oh, ragazzo dolce," Carmen laughs at her sweet boy, reaching down to tap his chin. "We'll see your zio Edward on Friday. Two days, si?"
Jameson rolls his eyes and mutters "Unc-Ed" under his breath, but returns his focus to his show.
Shaking my head, I crouch to kiss his head, then Fiorella's, before reiterating my promise to be home in time to take them all to dinner, then I head out to the car. Instead of making the turn toward the studio, I head in the opposite direction, wondering if I'm doing the right thing, if three weeks is enough time for both our heads to cool.
I don't make it very far before the screen on my dash lights up. Frowning, I tell the car to answer the call. It's Rose, but it's her work number; the phone in her office. "Rose, hey. What's up?"
"You need to get down here, babe." There are other voices, familiar but too muffled for me to pick out any individual ones. "Shit is hitting the fan—no, wait until Bella gets here. B, someone recognized Edward in that video and people are saying all kinds of crap in the comments about him, the family."
She hasn't finished speaking before I've pulled over into a side street and screeched to a halt. It doesn't take long to find what she's talking about, the comments under 'Anthony' and Molly's video full of people speculating about what this means.
My teeth sink into my lip when I see one comment that hits a little close to home.
BigBoy_1982 - Talk about keepin it in the family! Didn't realize this was that kind of channel
There are lots more along the same lines, some even remarking on how comparable Molly is to me.
I've spent years building up a reputation as a business owner, my days of working on-camera long behind me, but there are those who remember, who still search for Nightbird videos.
Who know that in all likelihood, one of the women behind the camera as Edward fucks Molly into the couch is his sister-in-law.
Shit, shit, shit.
Just when I think things can't get any worse, the dash screen splits in two, Rose's name on one side, 'incoming call' and 'Riley' on the other.
Oh, fuck.
"Rose, I've gotta go." Swallowing hard, I look heavenward and breathe, "Riley's calling."
"Oh, bloody hell."
Bloody hell is right.