1. Bailey #2
“I usually do.” I keep my tone even. “What are you doing here?”
His brows arch, faux surprise. “Charity, of course. Children’s literacy is a noble cause.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No?” He tilts his head, studying me like he’s deciding where to make the first incision. “You think I came just for you?”
I don’t answer.
We both know the truth. David has a famous name—he’s a producer, from a long line of producers. His face doesn’t sell tickets. But he’s got a gift for making himself useful. For inserting himself in places he doesn’t belong and acting like he owns the room.
His gaze dips, scanning my gown in a slow, deliberate drag that makes my skin crawl. “Emerald’s always suited you. Makes your eyes pop.”
“Don’t flirt with me.”
“Wasn’t flirting.” He steps closer. I hold still. “I was admiring. You look like a goddess tonight.”
“That answers all the questions I didn’t ask.”
Something cold slides through his expression. His smile doesn’t change, but his eyes go blank. And that’s more terrifying than rage. He steps close enough that I catch the scent of his cologne—amber, expensive, too familiar. “Let’s dance.”
“No.”
“Come on, Bai. One dance. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Why?” I force a laugh. “So you can say you charmed your way back into my good graces?”
He leans in, voice dropping. “So I can leave you alone.”
That gives me pause. “What?”
“You dance with me—just one—and I’ll walk away. No more scenes. No passive-aggressive drop-offs. No whispered commentary at school pickups.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
He spreads his hands. “It’s just a dance. In front of all these people. I don’t think I’m asking for too much, do you?”
I glance around. There are eyes on us. People pretending not to listen. Industry folks sipping cocktails while keeping half an ear turned our way. But we’re not causing a scene—yet. And that’s the only reason I’m still standing here, face neutral, spine steel.
I could say no. I should say no.
But if I don’t give him this small thing, he’ll find a way to punish me. I know it. He always has.
One dance. One chance to keep him from blowing this whole night apart. And he can’t hurt me out here. Not in front of everyone. Not where cameras and whispers will carry any bruise further than he ever intended.
“Fine,” I say tightly. “One dance. Then you leave me alone.”
“Deal.” He offers his hand, the imitation of a gentleman. His hand is warm. David’s always been warm on the outside. That’s how he hides what’s underneath.
He leads me gently toward the dance floor, the way a man would lead his date, his wife, his partner of years. The way he used to.
It makes my stomach turn.
The music has shifted to something slow and smoky, the kind of song where couples press close and forget the room around them. I keep a careful inch of space between us.
He closes the gap.
If I pull away now, it’ll be obvious. Awkward. The kind of thing that fuels gossip. I grit my teeth and put up with the closeness.
One hand finds my waist. The other holds mine loosely, as if this is all casual. Innocent. As if we’re not two halves of a broken thing pretending the break isn’t jagged.
We begin to move. Slow. Swaying. And I’m dancing with the man who used to ignore my safeword like it was merely a suggestion.
“You’ve gotten good at this,” he murmurs, guiding us across the floor with practiced ease. “The whole…starlet thing. You’re very polished now.”
“I was always polished. You just didn’t like when I outshined you.”
He chuckles, low in his throat. “Still got that bite, huh?”
“I had to. You kept trying to file my teeth down.”
“You know,” he says lightly, “when I heard about the name change…I thought it was a mistake. You wouldn’t provoke me. You’re smarter than that.”
And there it is. I should’ve known he wouldn’t wait long. “It wasn’t a mistake.”
He gives me a long, quiet look. “Maeve and Eli. Oswalt is their name.”
“Beausoleil is mine. The one I never gave up, by the way.” I keep my voice calm, even. “It’s easier this way. Paperwork. School. Insurance. And I’m the one on every emergency contact list, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget.” His grip tightens a fraction. Just enough that I feel it. “I just think it’s a little…dishonest. Don’t you?”
I blink slowly, forcing my body to stay relaxed. “What exactly do you think I’m lying about, David?”
He leans in. “That you’re the only parent who matters.”
My jaw tightens. “That wasn’t the message. But while we’re on the subject? I carried them for nine months each. Had my organs rearranged, nipples cracked, and a C-section scar that stops me from getting certain roles. If anyone’s name deserves to be on them—it’s mine.”
That smile again. That patronizing tilt of his mouth. “There it is. The martyr act.”
“I’m a mom, not a martyr. It’s prehistoric for children to automatically get their father’s name. Modernize, David.”
We keep moving in a glacier-slow, revolting rhythm. Every beat of the music feels like it’s counting down to something I can’t stop.
He leans in further, voice pitched just for me. “You think a name’s gonna keep you safe from me?”
The words hit like ice water. I stop moving. “What did you say?”
He chuckles again, the way a man might after a bad joke. But his eyes say he meant every syllable. “You’re paranoid, Bailey.”
“Am I?”
“Always have been.”
I take a careful step back, forcing a smile. “Thanks for the dance. I’ll be going now.”
David holds on for one second too long. Then lets go. Smoothly. Publicly. But his eyes never leave mine. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
“I live to disappoint you.”
He takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “Pity. Could’ve been a nice moment. But you ruin everything, don’t you, Bailey?” Before I can retort, he walks away. Like he didn’t just lace a threat into the middle of a dance.
That’s the thing about surviving a man like David—you don’t get the luxury of forgetting. You only learn how to keep dancing, even after the music stops.
I’m tired of dancing to his tune. The lights are too warm now. The music too soft. The people around me are laughing, sipping, swaying—oblivious.
No one saw it. David’s always been good at hiding his attacks, whether physical or not.
I pass a tray of champagne flutes and take one without thinking. My hand is steady. That’s what matters. My hand is steady, and my smile—though forced—is still convincing enough to keep the gossip hounds at bay.
But inside? My heart’s beating hard enough to bruise.
I find a quiet corner near a trellis of jasmine, step behind it, and pull out my phone. The screen lights up with a text from Jessica: All good here. Kids are asleep. Gonna eat ALL your kettle corn xo
I dial anyway, and she picks up on the second ring. “Hey! You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly. Too quickly. “Sorry to call. Just…wanted to check in.”
“They’re out cold. Eli was snoring so hard he scared Maeve.”
I laugh. It’s too sharp, but I let it out anyway. “Good.”
“Do I need to kick someone’s ass in heels?”
That almost does it. Almost breaks me. God, I love her. “No. Just one of those nights.”
“You’re not alone, you know.”
“I know.” But it’s not the same. Not when the air still feels haunted. Not when my skin still remembers the pressure of his hand, the threat in his voice. “Thanks. Kids are still asleep?”
“Oh yeah. Tummies full of mac and cheese will do that.”
“Your night sounds much better than mine.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Jess. I’ll be home soon.” I slide the phone back into my clutch and stare out over the crowd again. David’s nowhere in sight. Maybe he’s already left. Maybe he’s lurking in some shadowed corner, watching for another moment to wedge himself into my life.
It doesn’t matter. Let him think I’m still the girl who flinched when he raised his voice, who tried to earn back kindness like it was money and he was the only one who could give it.
That girl is gone. I walked through hell and came out with mascara still intact. He doesn’t get to break me again. Not here. Not tonight.
A photographer catches my eye across the garden and raises his camera. I nod, turn toward the lights, and smile. The flash pops. And I shine. Even with my heart still raw, my pulse still trembling. Even knowing that the real battle hasn’t even started yet.
I shine because I have to. Because if David’s going to come for me again, he will learn I’m not the same girl he used to bury.
This time, I’ll drag him into the grave with me.