10. Selene
Selene
It was such a cute little play.
Seeing all those children from different schools and backgrounds come together to create something well done is heartwarming.
The hum of excitement backstage begins to die as the last of the children filter out into the crowd of cheering parents.
Costumes litter the floor—bright capes, handmade wooden swords, makeshift crowns, crumpled scripts stained with juice spills.
I’m on my knees collecting stray props and handing them to a volunteer when a small sniffle breaks my rhythm.
A young boy stands near the curtain with tear-streaked cheeks and a trembling lip. His pirate hat hangs awkwardly over his brow, and his tiny fists clutch the wooden sword he used during the play.
I tuck the bundle of costumes under one arm and walk over, crouching to his level. “What’s wrong, Captain?” I ask softly. His lip wobbles, and he wipes his nose on his sleeve.
“I forgot some of my lines,” he whispers, staring at the floor. “Everyone laughed.”
I remember that happening, and to be honest, I sort of maybe laughed, too. I reach out, gently straightening the hat on his head. “You know what I saw?” His eyes lift to meet mine, wide and glossy. “A brave pirate who didn’t give up, even when things didn’t go perfectly.”
“But they laughed,” he repeats, voice cracking.
“Sometimes people laugh because they’re nervous or excited,” I say. “Not because you did something wrong. And do you know what’s more important than remembering a line?”
He shakes his head.
“Finishing the play. You kept going. That’s what real pirates do. They face the storm and keep sailing, even when the wind is rough.”
His shoulders relax a little, the weight of his tiny failure lifting. “You were the best pirate on that stage, Captain.”
A small smile tugs at his lips. He hugs the sword to his chest. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
I ruffle his hair and watch as he scurries off to join his friends. My chest warms. Before I can stand, one of the teachers rushes in, her breath heavy, her face flushed.
“Selene!” She spins around the room, looking for me. She finds me, as I’m standing up.
“Selene,” she repeats breathlessly.
I freeze. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s your son—Leo. He’s choking.”
The room tilts, my legs going numb as my heart slams into my throat. “What?” I say, my voice breaking. “How? Where is he?”
She points toward the hall where they’re setting up for another celebration. I’m already running before she can answer. My pulse is wild, my breath ragged. Images flash through my head—Leo gasping for air, struggling.
I push through the double doors into the hall, scanning the crowd. Parents and children blur together. My fingers tremble, and my chest heaves. Then I see him.
Leo is sitting on the floor, tears streaking his face. His small body is pressed against a man’s chest. The man cradles him gently, his hand running through Leo’s messy brown hair. Leo’s tiny shoulders shake as he sobs into the man’s shirt.
I sprint toward them, my throat burning. I drop to my knees and pull Leo into my arms, holding him as tightly as I can without hurting him—his body trembles against mine. I rock him back and forth, pressing my cheek to his soft hair.
“Mom,” he chokes out, his little hands clutching my shirt.
“I’m here,” I whisper, though my voice quivers. “I’m here, baby. You’re okay.”
I pull back a little. My hands run over his face, his chest, his back. I check every inch of him like I can’t trust my own eyes. His skin is warm. He’s breathing, but I can’t stop shaking. I feel like my soul left my body, and it’s taking some time to return.
“Selene?”
The voice sends a shiver through me, cutting through the chaos in my head. I glance up and freeze. My soul hasn’t fully returned to my body, and it’s threatening to leave again.
Darby stands over us, his chestnut hair a mess like Leo’s. His green eyes watch me carefully. His broad shoulders fill out the tailored suit he’s wearing, the fabric straining slightly at his muscled arms. He looks every bit the confident man I remember, but his expression is now soft. Concerned.
I haven’t seen that look in years. At the beach, all I saw on his face was bitterness and anger.
“What…what are you doing here?” My voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat.
Before Darby can answer, Leo shifts in my arms, and I look at him. “What is it? Do you feel any pain anywhere?”
He shakes his head. Then his little fingers, still shaky, wipe my cheek, and I realize I’m crying.
“Mom,” Leo says softly, his voice stronger now. “I’m okay. You don’t have to cry.”
I sniff and wipe my eyes as I try to smile. Then Leo points at Darby. “He saved me.”
I blink, confused for a second. Then it sinks in. I look at Darby again, my breath hitching.
“You dislodged it?” I whisper.
He nods.
I pull Leo from the floor as I stand, kissing the top of his head as fresh tears spill down my cheeks. “Thank you,” I say to Darby. I repeat it over and over. “Thank you so much.”
Darby’s hand moves like he’s about to reach for me but stops. His fingers curl into a fist before falling to his side.
“I’m glad he’s okay,” he says quietly.
I’m ready to take Leo away, to find a quiet corner where I can breathe again, but Darby steps forward. His voice lowers, just for me. “I need to talk to you. Please.”
I glance at Leo. His arms are wrapped around my neck, his breathing steady now. But his eyes, glassy and red, are locked on Darby like he’s trying to understand something bigger than himself.
I shake my head. “I can’t—”
“Selene.” Darby’s voice is firm but not harsh. His green eyes soften. “I’m not asking for much. Just a few minutes. I’ll be outside.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer. He turns and walks toward the exit, his polished shoes clicking against the floor.
I stare after him, torn between the urge to leave and the weight of everything unsaid.
Leo tugs gently on my sleeve, and I bend to his level. “Mom, I’m okay now.” His tiny fingers brush my cheek again, and I can’t help but smile through the tears. He’s always stronger than I think he is, always trying to comfort me when it should be the other way around.
I love this boy more than I love myself.
I kiss his forehead and stand, holding him close. The volunteer health personnel arrive at the scene and guide me toward a small room where they can check him over.
I sit on the edge of the cot, still cradling Leo as the nurse examines him. He’s calm, answering her questions like a little soldier.
When she finishes, she smiles at me. “He’s fine, just shaken up.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Thank you.”
Leo rests his head against my shoulder, and I close my eyes for a moment, letting the relief sink in. But Darby’s voice lingers in the back of my mind.
I need to talk to you.
I exhale slowly and kiss Leo’s hair again before setting him down on the cot. I look at the volunteer, an elderly woman with a comforting smile. “I’ll look after him,” she says before I ask.
“Thank you,” I reply and head outside.
Outside, the sun is already setting, and the clouds are heavy with rain. I knew we would be here all day, and I hoped the rain wouldn’t start this soon. I take a deep breath. It feels good to breathe for a moment away from the noise and panic.
I look around for Darby.
I find him leaning casually against a brick column near the entrance.
One of the moms stands close to him, practically leaning into his space.
She’s tall, blonde, and wearing a bright red dress that’s way too flashy for a community theater.
Darby says something, and her laugh cuts through the quiet.
I clear my throat to grab their attention.
Darby turns first, then the woman follows. Her eyes narrow slightly as she sizes me up. She’s probably wondering how I fit into this equation.
“Well, don’t let me interrupt,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.
The woman giggles again and hands Darby a small card. Her manicured nails brush his hand longer than necessary. “Call me,” she whispers, loud enough for me to hear.
She glances at me one more time before she walks off. I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“What did I do?” He grins, slipping the card into his pocket.
“Don’t you ever get tired of this?” I mutter, stepping down the stairs toward him.
His smile falters a little, but he hides it quickly. “I helped your son today. I think that buys me a pass.”
I sigh and rub my temples. The mention of Leo suddenly reminds me that I have no right to question Darby about his actions. I also have no energy. “Thank you. Again. For Leo.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “It’s fine, Selene. Really. You don’t need to keep thanking me.”
The cool breeze pushes loose strands of my hair into my face. I tuck them behind my ear and cross my arms again. “Why did you ask me to meet you out here?”
Darby shifts his weight and looks off toward the street. “I have a job for you.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
He smiles. “My company has a job for you,” he corrects. “We have a PR problem. And your article on the wedding was good enough to convince everyone that your storytelling skills can help fix it.”
I take a step back. “I’m not interested.”
He doesn’t flinch. “You don’t even know what the problem is.”
“I can guess,” I say, shaking my head. “Corporate scandals. Boardroom betrayals. Something about manipulating stock prices?”
He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Not exactly.”
“What, then?”
His gaze flickers to the side before meeting mine again. There’s a hint of embarrassment there, hidden under the charm. “I may or may not have slept with a married woman.”
My jaw tightens, and my pulse spikes. My heart twists in a way that’s all too familiar—disappointment mixed with something close to anger. I hate this. I hate that he can still get under my skin.
He notices my reaction, of course. Darby always notices. “Selene—”
I cut him off. “This is the kind of man you are now?” My voice trembles slightly, and I hate myself for it. “This is what you’ve become?”
His smile fades. For a second, his mask slips, and I see the regret beneath it. But I don’t care. I don’t want to see it.
“I’m not interested,” I say again. My voice is firmer this time.
I turn on my heel and head back inside. The warm air hits me as soon as I enter, but it does nothing to thaw the cold knot in my chest.
Darby follows me. His footsteps are quiet, but I know he’s there. He always has to have the last word. “Let me take you and Leo home,” he says.
I don’t stop walking. “We’ll be fine. We always are.”
“Selene, it’s raining.”
I glance toward the windows and notice the water streaking down the glass.
I must not have noticed because I was too busy being disappointed in him.
I close my eyes for a moment, frustration washing over me.
Since my car is still on the fritz, we had to take the bus home.
But Leo has been through a lot today, and the thought of dragging him through the cold rain makes my stomach twist.
I sigh, turning toward him. His expression softens like he knows he’s won this round.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But don’t think this changes anything.”
I get my son, and we step outside again, the rain pattering lightly against the pavement. Darby’s car is a sleek, spotless BMW with his name as the plate number. I try not to think of how obnoxious that is.
He opens the door for Leo, who climbs in quietly, still clutching his jacket. I slide in beside him, and the leather seats are cold against my legs.
The drive is quiet. Leo dozes off halfway home, his head resting on my arm. I run my fingers through his hair and stroke his cheeks. I hate that I need to depend on Darby, but I can’t ignore the warmth in my chest every time I glance at him.
When we arrive at my house, Darby parks by the curb. The rain has picked up, and the steady drumming against the roof fills the silence. I get out and pull Leo into my arms. Darby gets out, too, offering to help, but I shake my head. “I’ve got him.”
He nods, and we run to the front door. Darby enters after me and closes the door. I take Leo straight to our room and tuck him into bed. I return to find Darby standing by the door, his hands in his pockets.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. But he just stands there. “Goodnight?” I say with a frown.
He scratches the back of his neck. “I uhm, I sort of can’t leave.”
I raise a brow. “Seriously? What are you trying to…”
“Nothing. When you took Leo to bed, I left. But my battery is dead. And my phone isn’t coming on. Water must have gotten into it.”
Of course, it did. I stare at him, weighing my options. I pick up my phone to call an Uber for him, but no rides are available. I groan internally, then look at him.
“You can stay on the couch.”
He flashes that charming grin, the one that used to make me melt. But not tonight.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I warn.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, and I head back to the bedroom Leo and I share. I hope this isn’t a bad idea.