21. Bailey
BAILEY
The guest room is littered with neat little piles of towels on the trunk by the window, a stack of sheets on the chair, and the never-ending tower of socks that mock me.
I could hire someone to handle this kind of thing, but it forces me to slow down and touch grass, so to speak.
It’s easy to get caught up in the glitz and glamour of what I do, and if I did that, I might start to believe my own hype. Can’t let that happen.
Can’t forget where I come from.
After my first starring role, Mom told me to never forget the tiny third-floor walk-up I grew up in, or the long nights she put in at the factory to pay for my acting coach, or how hard I’ve worked to get where I am.
She was afraid I’d lose myself to the Hollywood machine the way a lot of starlets do, especially after I told her about the premier’s afterparty.
My old agent told me to spend the money from that role on something frivolous.
I bought Mom a house instead. I’m glad I did it. She lived there for a year before the car accident that took her life, and she loved that house. I’d never seen her so happy.
Steam rolls off the top of my coffee mug as I sit in the corner chair, staring at the piles of clothes to be processed.
The loss of Mom still feels fresh, even though it’s been years.
I’ve never been a spiritual person, and neither was she, but wherever she is now, I hope she knows I’m still me.
The glamour of the job never took away who I am.
Sunlight streams through the east-facing windows, laying a warm stripe across the floor. My phone buzzes, skittering across the trunk. Mira flashes on the screen. I put it on speaker, still cradling the mug in my hands. “Please tell me you have good news.”
“You’re in, Bailey,” she says, breathless. “You got the job. Friedburg wants you for the lead. Contract’s in your inbox.”
The words hang in the air for a beat before they slam into me. “Wait—what?”
“He told the studio you can carry the role and that you have ‘eyes that remember before they decide.’ I don’t know what it means, but you’re in. This is the one, Bailey.”
My knees give a little, and I sit down on the trunk. “Mira?—”
“Go celebrate,” she laughs. “Call me back when you can breathe.”
I hang up, and the sound bursts out of me before I know I’m moving. I run down the hallway, my voice echoing off the high ceiling. “They said yes!”
In the living room, Maeve and Eli are sprawled on the couch. Maeve frowns. “To what?”
“The Friedburg film!” I stop short, grinning. “I got the part.”
Eli sits up so fast the remote clatters to the floor. “The one that could win you a gold statue?”
“That’s the one!” I scoop him up and spin until we’re both dizzy, then grab Maeve’s hands. “We’re celebrating.”
Maeve taps her phone and music blasts—a pop anthem with a heavy beat. She starts dancing, and Eli flails in something that might be breakdancing. I jump in, my laugh bubbling over.
Sean appears in the doorway, brow arched. “What’s going on?”
“Mom got the part!” Maeve shouts.
Huck grins wide. “Then why are we standing here?” He bounds in, hauling Eli onto his shoulders. Wesley strolls in behind him, smiling as Maeve pulls him into the fray. Even Sean steps forward, moving to the beat with an understated sway.
It’s chaos—Maeve teaching Huck a TikTok move, Eli making up his own, Wesley spinning me once before handing me off to Sean. Sean leans in close. “We’ll need a private celebration later. Just the four of us.”
“Focus,” I tease.
He smirks and lets me go. I’m still dizzy when the gate buzzer cuts through the music. Everything stills. The guys exchange glances. Sean’s phone is in his hand instantly. His expression hardens. “It’s David.”
My body sinks inside of itself. The music clicks off. Maeve looks from me to the guys, sensing the change. Eli edges toward Huck. Two words is all it took to kill the mood.
I hate the power that bastard has in my house.
Sean presses the intercom on his phone. “State your business.”
David’s gaze goes straight to the camera. “Bailey, open the gate. I’m here to pick up the kids.”
“They’re not going with you until tomorrow,” I say, stepping into view over Sean’s shoulder.
“I have a new court order,” he says smoothly. “Full custody to me. You get the weekends.”
The words feel unreal. “Bullshit. This was already litigated?—”
“It’s signed by a judge. Effective immediately. And I brought officers—I’d hate for your guards to get arrested for interfering.”
No. No, no, no. I fumble for my phone and call my lawyer. “Please tell me you know about this.”
“I just got the notice,” she says, voice tight. “He filed an emergency motion—claims of immediate risk. It’s baseless, but a judge signed it. I’m already challenging it, but for now, you have to comply.”
My stomach twists, and only now I realize I’m shaking. My voice is too. “So, I have to let him take them.”
“For now. I’m sorry, Bailey.”
I hang up. David’s still looking into the camera, calm and smug. “Are you going to comply, or do we get to do this the fun way?”
Sean glances at me, waiting. There’s no real choice. I hit the button on his phone to open the gate. We walk down the driveway together—Sean on one side, Huck on the other, Wesley a step behind. Maeve and Eli follow, quiet. The sky is clear and bright, as if this was just a normal day.
David’s car idles just beyond the open gate. The officers stand back as he steps forward. Two cruisers are parked behind his SUV. David grins at the kids. “Ready for a fun week with Dad?”
Eli glances up, bottom lip wobbling. “No.”
I kneel in front of the kids. “You’re going with Dad for a little while. Just for now. I’ll get this straightened out.”
Maeve nods once, her eyes fierce. She knows this is bullshit, but she’s trying to be the brave big sister Eli needs. He clings to my neck, sniffling. I tuck Eli’s shirt tag in, kiss them both, and Eli grabs me for another hug. “I promise this will be over before you know it.”
David insinuates himself into our space. “Come on, E, you know big boys don’t cry. Let’s go.” He puts his hand on Eli’s shoulder and tugs him to pull him away.
“Don’t,” I growl at him over my son’s shoulder, finishing our hug. I’ll bite his hand if he tries it again.
Sean squares up to David. “Cops or not, I’ll defend my client against assault, David. You remember the roof, don’t you?”
My ex takes half a step back, smile never wavering. “That sounded like a threat.”
“Just company policy.”
Sean, Huck, and Wesley are big and scary looking, but cops are cops. They have authority here, and we can’t fight that. I wonder what strings David pulled to get them here. The Oswalt name carries a lot of clout, so I can’t say I’m overly surprised, but it’s heavy-handed even for him.
Wesley pokes the bear. “Needed the boys in blue to help you secure two kids? Definitely the move of a confident man. What’s next? The National Guard?”
David glares his direction. “Were you the one who punched a man when he was down, or the one who kicked him?”
Wesley grins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He takes a step forward, and if I didn’t know him, I’d be scared of the look on his face. That is not the smile of an entirely sane person.
He tips his head down a little, lowering his voice so the cops can’t hear him.
“But if I did know what you were talking about, I’d remember why you got your ass handed to you on that roof, and why you’re lucky you’re still breathing, and why you haven’t done jack shit about it.
If you wanted to press charges, you’d have to admit to what you did, wouldn’t you? ”
It’s nice to see David blanch. “Kids, it’s time to go.”
Maeve grumbles, “Come on, Eli. It’ll be okay.
” She takes his hand, and he lets her. After that, it all happens so fast. The kids climb into the back seat.
Eli waves through the glass. The door shuts.
David nods at me, tips an invisible hat, all false civility, then gets in the car. The engine hums, and they’re gone.
The silence is crushing and absolute.
I stand by the gate, staring at the empty space where they were. My arms feel wrong without their weight. Sean’s hand settles lightly at my back. Huck is a tense wall beside me, Wesley silent.
“We’ll fight it,” Sean says.
I nod, swallowing hard. “I know.” It’s the only thought holding me together.
We turn back toward the house. Inside, the living room is frozen in time. Pillows tossed from our dancing. Eli’s sock abandoned by the couch. The joy from minutes ago hangs in the air like mockery.