Chapter 37
37
Ezra
“Your phone is ringing, Mills.”
“Who is it?” she calls from the bathroom.
While she dresses, I’m stripping the sheets. Asher said we could leave them, but I’m doing him a courtesy. Millie was anything but tired this morning when she woke me up with the best blow job of my life.
“Kris.” Who the fuck is Kris?
“Just ignore it. I’ll call back later.”
I hit the button on the side to send fucking Kris to voicemail. “Who’s Kris?”
“She’s my agent.”
A text preview appears on her lock screen. I need an answer. Call me back ASAP. Rehearsals start…
What the?—
Millie steps into the bedroom in her bra and underwear, eyes on her phone, which is still in my hand. “What?”
I toss it to her.
“Oh,” she sighs when she opens the notification .
“When were you going to tell me?” I don’t mean for my tone to sound accusatory, but there’s no quelling the hurt working its way through me.
“Never? I’m not taking the job.”
My spine snaps straight. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not taking?—”
“I heard you. Why not?”
She lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. “Maybe because during the last show I was in, the director practically forced me to quit because I was fat.”
My heart pangs. Dammit, I hate that this conversation is bringing up bad memories for her. “Don’t let one asshole ruin your career, Mills.”
“It’s a little too late for that. But I’ll find a new career,” she says nonchalantly as she pulls a pillow from its case. “Between LULU, narrating audiobooks, and FrenchSHEs, I make pretty good money.”
“But this is?—”
“Drop it,” she scolds.
Damn, I’ve never heard her voice laced with so much venom. Raising my hands, I back out of the bedroom. “I’ll be next door while you finish getting ready.”
When I walk into Asher’s cabin, Kane is working on a puzzle with Bea on the floor. I don’t know who is more frustrated—Bea, who keeps forcing half of the kitten’s eye to fit with half of the puppy’s eye, or Kane, who can’t convince her to lay out the corner pieces first. When Kane spots me, I offer him a sympathetic look.
“Good morning,” Rachel says when I enter the kitchen.
I return her smile. “Good morning. Something smells good.”
“Thank you, though it’s no french toast casserole,” she says as she flips a pancake on the griddle.
“I’m sure it’s just as delicious.”
“Where’s Millie? ”
I plaster on a smile, hoping it looks natural. “She was still getting ready but should be over shortly.”
Ethan and Asher enter through the door to the back deck, Ethan’s arm slung over Asher’s shoulders. The sight tugs at my heartstrings unexpectedly. The only time Rob ever wrapped an arm around me was when he was dragging me from one bar to another when I was a teen, wearing a drunken smile, not the genuine grin that’s painted on Ethan’s.
A question hits me then. Will I ever get that opportunity? Not as the son, of course, but as the father to my own child. I shrug off the thought, determined to enjoy my last bit of time here.
Millie joins us just as I finish preparing her coffee.
“Thank you.” She kisses me on the cheek and steps back.
I scan her face, hoping her expression will reveal her true feelings, but it doesn’t.
“Who wants pancakes?” Rachel calls. “We’ve got plain, blueberry, and chocolate chip.”
“Oh, me. Me. Me. Chocolate!” Bea erupts, nearly knocking over a glass of orange juice in her excitement.
“Anyone?” Rachel asks, pretending not to hear her.
“Me,” Bea shouts louder.
“Oh, darn. Guess I’ll have to eat them all myself.” Sighing, she forks a pancake and drops it onto her plate, then does the same with a second and a third.
“ Mimi ,” Bea scolds, her cute little hands on her hips.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” her grandmother says as she places the giant stack of pancakes in front of her.
Asher quietly reprimands his mom for offering his daughter so much chocolate for breakfast, but Ethan waves him off.
“That’s what grandparents are for. We do all the dirty work raising kids, then get to enjoy our grandbabies.”
Grandbabies. Does Asher plan on having more children one day? Or is he referring to the possibility that Millie might?
Though I try to focus on the discussions taking place, the image of children with my hair and Millie’s eyes around this table in the future creeps its way in, nonetheless.
I eventually force myself to tune into the conversation, and breakfast goes smoothly until Bea finally does knock over the glass of orange juice. Right onto her chocolate pancakes. She immediately bursts into pitiful tears, but thankfully, Kane saves the day when he sacrifices his meal.
“Amelia,” Ethan says once the pancake drama has dissolved, “heard anything from your agent lately?”
“Dad,” Asher says, his voice low, just as Millie says “no” and I say “yes.”
Millie whips her head in my direction, her eyes narrowed to slits.
If looks could kill.
Shit.
Both her parents’ eyes widen with excitement. Dammit, it’s too late to backtrack now.
“Millie?” Her mom sets her fork down, waiting for her to answer.
She stabs at a blueberry pancake, probably visualizing my face.
“Mills,” I murmur, nudging her beneath the table.
Eyes narrowed, she shoots daggers my way. “Kris sent in an audition tape, and I got the role of Ms. Honey in Matilda .” Her tone is flat as she speaks, belying the magnitude of the admission.
After a heartbeat of silence, the table breaks into roars of excitement, and I join in with pride. Matilda has been Claire’s favorite movie for as long as I can remember; she will flip when she finds out.
“I’m not going to take it. ”
The group abruptly falls silent, all eyes on her. Even Bea can read the room and watches with wonderment.
“Excuse me?” her father asks.
Millie rolls her eyes, no doubt because this is the second time she’s been asked that question this morning.
“Why wouldn’t you take it?” her brother pushes. “I thought you were just on a break.”
“I was, but…” She huffs a breath, her jaw rigid. “I don’t think I want to put myself through that anymore.”
“But you love the theater. And this could be one step closer to Broadway.” Asher sounds more disgruntled than I feel. I like this guy.
I tilt closer and wrap a comforting arm around her shoulder, but she shrugs me off. Heart sinking, I lean back and cross my arms, waiting for her to justify her reasoning.
“Yes, I’ve dreamed of Broadway my entire life,” she says. “But things change, okay? Maybe I’m just not cut out for it.”
I turn to face her. “Honey?—”
She rises from her seat, cutting me off, and exits the room.
“Where’d Lee Lee go?” Bea asks, syrup dripping down her chin.
Rachel stands, but I politely hold up a hand, stopping her. “I’ll go.”
I find Millie on the front porch swing of our cabin, and the second she notices my presence, she rounds on me. “You had no right to tell them my business. Not cool.”
Tears well in her eyes, and for a split second, I contemplate keeping my mouth shut, but… here goes nothing.
“No.” My tone brooks no argument, the harshness causing her to startle. “You know what’s not cool , Amelia? Giving up on your dreams.”
“I told you?—”
“I know what you told me. But I won’t sit back and let you throw it all away because of one fucking prick. If I did, I wouldn’t be a supportive partner. You know if the roles were reversed, you’d do the same thing for me.”
She opens her mouth, then shuts it just as quickly.
Satisfied that she’s actually heard me, I fling the screen door open and let it slam behind me with a thwack .