Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
CHARLOTTE
I probably needed a break.
Mentally, emotionally, physically, I was outright exhausted after wrapping up Kinfolk.
Proud?
Happy?
Relieved?
All of those, yes, absolutely .
But also…depleted.
Which was why it made no sense to have met up with Vanessa to talk about the rom-com series she wanted to write, the day after we finished shooting. Honestly? I was ready to dive right into it, but after the demands of such a dramatic role, she needed a little break. Which, she would take.
It didn’t mean I couldn’t get to work though.
There was no reason to rush.
I had time to sit, and think, and breathe.
But none of those things were going to move any needles for me in terms of where I wanted to be, so I wasn’t too inclined at this time to indulge them.
When I let myself into my house, it was already full of activity and noise, which was perfect. The babysitter was here with Ky, who was having a playdate with a couple of neighborhood kids—my TV was commandeered by a gaming system, and they were having a blast.
Volume cranked up, juice boxes and water and snacks all over the coffee table, lots of laughter as they went through the mechanics of the brightly colored animations on the screen. I was smiling about it personally, but when Kacey’s eyes found me, hers went wide, and she immediately popped up from where she’d been sitting off to the side, observing.
“Sorry about the mess, Char—I’ll make sure it’s all cleaned up before I leave,” she swore, and I shook my head.
“I am not remotely worried about that—I’m glad to see them having fun. How has he been today?”
I had to ask.
Early yesterday morning, before I headed out for the last day of filming, I’d gotten a phone call—from social services. I took the call in my office for privacy, but Ky apparently didn’t care about any of that. He’d overheard the whole conversation—one I deeply regretted having via speakerphone while I packed my work bag for the day—and had some away from it with a scary conclusion, unfortunately.
When I tried to get him ready to leave the house, so I could drop him off at school for the day, he’d flatly refused the idea.
“ I don’t want to go anywhere else! I want to stay with you, Auntie Charlotte! Did I do something wrong? Why do you want to let the people come and take me away!? ”
All through buckets and buckets of tears.
It was heartbreaking.
I’d had to sit him down and explain that he hadn’t heard what he thought he did—yes, the people from child services were checking in with me, but absolutely nobody was planning to take him away.
I had to dig to figure out where he’d come to such a conclusion.
Apparently, one of his classmates at school was adopted as well, but before his permanent placement, he’d bounced around in foster care a bit.
Enough for it to be traumatizing.
Even though he’d been with his current, permanent family a while, he still remembered getting comfortable in other households and finally feeling secure, only to have that taken away.
Stories he’d shared with Kyran, who would never have to worry about that with me.
I’d communicated the same thing to the social worker, who’d had a whole line of questioning about my suitability. Never mind that I’d been the only one from either side of his family to be willing to take on the responsibility. She wanted to know if I was dating, what my work schedule looked like, if Kyran’s needs were too much for me to handle, if I had a support system.
All of which were relevant, honestly.
I understood wanting to be sure Kyran was in good hands, but he’d been with me too long for these questions, at this point. I assure her that I was making it work and had the resources to make any necessary changes.
And that was when she revealed what I understood now to be the true impetus of this whole conversation.
Ky’s grandparents had reached out.
His mother’s parents.
Of course they had.
After a year of insisting he shouldn’t be their responsibility, leaning into their anger at their daughter for making what they thought was a poor decision, blah blah blah… now they had something to say.
But what wasn’t about to happen was them taking Ky from the only stability he’d been offered since his parents passed, just because they’d had a change of heart.
Especially since, who was to say it wouldn’t happen again?
They were not about to traumatize that little boy any further—not on my watch.
Which I explained over the phone to the social worker, and then again to Kyran, in terms he could actually use to come away with a real understanding of what was happening.
I was willing to make room for a relationship with his grandparents—including my own parents, if they ever decided to act like they had some sense.
I would not make room for nonsense though.
“He was his usual happy self,” Kacey said. “And I think arranging the playdate was perfect—helps him feel more…solidified, I guess. Is that the right word? You’re the writer.” She laughed.
“Yes.” I grinned. “ Solid is exactly what we want.”
The little playdate lasted for hours after I got home—I ended up ordering pizza to feed the kids dinner before sending them back to their respective houses. Instead of leaving Kacey to do all the cleanup by herself, I actually helped her get the house back in order. Once she was gone, I was able to get Ky in the shower then listen to his excited chatter about his favorite parts of the day before he passed out.
Then , it was my turn.
I opted for a long soak in the tub instead of a quick shower, using the time to let the thoughts pour from my head, to clear it. Kinfolk was out of my hands now, on to the editors to do their thing.
Another hit under my belt.
Of course the whole season hadn’t aired yet, but unreasonable demands from the network aside, the show was a clear success. Critically acclaimed already, great streaming numbers, and we’d somehow managed to add a ridiculous dramatic storyline without jumping the shark, which was…a feat.
And we were yet to hear what fans really thought about those plot lines since it hadn’t aired yet, but I truly felt good about it.
All of it.
Enough to mark it in the triumph column in my brain.
I never allowed myself to sit with the feeling of accomplishment too long though.
Was it something I was proud of?
No.
Was it a constant subject of conversation with my therapist?
Yes.
But in the meantime…it was what it was.
I had goals, and the main one was my own production at this point. The best way to get there was to keep working, not staying idle long enough to get used to or enjoy the doing nothing feeling.
At least, not right now.
But eventually.
After my bath, I got in bed with my laptop, intending to look through the notes from my meeting with Vanessa. She already had a lot in mind—potential casting, locations, the soundtrack, and she’d actually started writing, which was amazing.
I never took on anything that didn’t excite me, and I was not easily impressed by any means.
I was looking forward to this, though.
I didn’t have as much romantic comedy under my belt as I’d like—especially considering how much I loved to laugh. For whatever reason, my projects had tended more toward dramatic, and this would be a fun, sexy departure.
A win for everybody involved.
And we planned to get everybody involved.
A star-studded cast, great artists on the music, all of it. Vanessa was playing with the idea of different settings, and I personally thought it would be cool to not film in LA or Vegas—we could take it to a city rich with our culture like Blackwood, or an HBCU town like Blakewood, or even a melanin-saturated neighborhood like the Heights.
The possibilities were endless, really.
My phone ringing pulled me from my thoughts, and I didn’t even bother trying not to smile when I saw the name on the screen.
If there was nothing else I could expect from Nolan Brinkley, I could count on the man to bring the consistency.
Not that I should be counting on him for anything.
And I wasn’t counting on him for anything.
It was just… shit.
Answer the damn phone, Char.
“Hello?” I said, propping the phone against my ear as I sorted my notes into categories, hoping that multitasking would keep me from giving him too much focus.
“Let me in.”
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the time.
Late as hell.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, woman,” Nolan chuckled on the other end of the line. “I’m going to Blakewood with my kids tomorrow—flight first thing in the morning. I’d like to see you before I leave.”
I closed my eyes.
I’d like to see you before I leave didn’t sound so “friendly,” but… fuck it.
I put my laptop aside, climbing out of bed to go to the door in my oversized sweats, oversized tee, fuzzy socks, and a bonnet covering my hair.
This was the problem with his declaration of wanting us to be “friends,” honestly. It unlocked a certain level of comfort I really probably shouldn’t be feeling with him—especially considering how quickly my view of him had changed.
Nolan Brinkley got on my nerves.
That was our vibe.
Our… trope.
This easiness that had developed between us, sparked from his kindness toward my situation with Kyran…it really wasn’t sitting well with me.
Or did I just not want it to sit well with me?
Either way.
I was letting him in.
As soon as I opened the door though, I made a point of letting him know—“I started my period today. And…I’m not a put a towel down kinda girl—not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just not… me .”
Talking too damn much.
What was even the point of that?
Nolan chuckled over my little spiel, gently pushing me back so he could step inside. “If that’s your way of letting me know sex is off the table, that’s cool with me… friend .”
I rolled my eyes, closing and locking the door before I followed him down to my bedroom.
“I’m pretty sure just the kitchen would work fine for a conversation,” I said, watching as he made himself comfortable on the chaise in front of my window.
“True,” he agreed. “I didn’t know if a little friendly head might be on the table though.”
“Get out,” I declared, pointing to the door as he laughed.
“I’m messing around,” he admitted, putting up his hands. “Honestly, I just like your little vibe back here. It’s relaxing.”
“Mmmhmm.” I propped my hands on my hips, studying him for a moment. “What happened tonight?” I asked. “Your kids decided to go out and be cool with their friends instead of hanging out with their dad?”
“Just a little bit.”
“I figured as much.” I laughed, moving to take a seat next to him. “It’s still wild to me that you’ve got college-age kids.”
“Outing myself as an old man?”
“I think the grays do a fine job of that all on their own,” I teased. “I told my friends you were old enough to be my father.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “So you told your friends about me, huh?”
“Told them I would absolutely not be fucking you.”
“So you lie to your friends all the time?”
“It was before we did anything.”
“But you didn’t circle back—you ashamed of me?”
“Shut up.” I laughed. “Have you been telling people about me ?”
“Why would I be telling people I made a friend?” he asked, eyebrows up as I giggled.
“Fair point. But…still answer the question.”
He shook his head. “No, not really.”
“Are you ashamed of me ?”
“Hell no,” he answered quickly. “I just don’t want anybody calling me a creepy old man.”
“I’m too old for anybody to think that,” I assured him. “They’d just think you were my sugar daddy. Or that I was using you to get ahead in the industry. Fucking my way to the top, you know?”
“I should be so lucky,” he murmured, cupping a hand under my chin. I didn’t resist when he pulled me in for a kiss, even as the alarm bell in the back of my head rang, telling me that friends didn’t do this either.
“What are you doing after this?” I asked, pulling back from the kiss—not too soon, but enough that it couldn’t be considered lingering. “Meaning, now that we’re done with the show.”
“Well…my kids are about to force me into real estate investing,” he said. “But beyond that, I’m going to do Alec’s scripted reality show.”
“Oh, that sounds cool!”
“You want in?” he asked, and I couldn’t shake my head fast enough.
“Absolutely not ,” I insisted. “I need a damn break from working with you.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“I’m sure you don’t think so.” I laughed. “But um…I need to do my own thing a little.”
“So you’re not going to ask me to do Vanessa’s show?”
My eyes went wide. “How do you know about that?”
“I know things.”
“Okay, but how do you know about that ,” I insisted, and he shrugged.
“I answered that question already, mama. I have connections.”
I scoffed. “Connections named Alec Everett who happen to be dating Vanessa?”
“Maybe.” He smirked. “Either way…that’s cold.”
“What’s cold?”
“You needing a break from me. Damn. I thought we were getting better now—what happened to us being friends?”
“Friendships last longer when you don’t mix business and pleasure,” I told him.
He nodded, considering my words. “So should I tell the kids you were just fucking around? ’Cause they really do want to work on your show. They’re huge fans. Of your work and your ass. True admirers.”
“You’re an idiot.” I laughed. “But no, don’t tell them that—I was serious. I’ll hire them for my show.”
“I thought you just said business and pleasure don’t mix?”
“I did,” I agreed. “But be serious, Nolan…by the time I’m ready to make this show, we’ll have had a huge falling out and decided we hate each other. Mutually. And because of that, it’ll be the best thing either of us has ever made.”
Nolan laughed. “You really think so?”
“I do.” I nodded. “Either that, or…I don’t know.”
“Maybe we’ll have messed around and fallen in love by then,” Nolan suggested, and neither of us spoke after that.
We just stared at each other.
Until we both burst into laughter at the prospect.
“I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
The end.