“Research? Really?” Mrs. Tellier scoffed. “That’s a stretch. Fine. You want to call me old . . . I’ll throw down my old lady card.” She turned to Angelina and gave her sad eyes. “Angelina, I turn seventy in a few months. I’m on a limited budget. My life keeps getting smaller and smaller. I struggle to find reasons to get out of bed each morning. Please, let me be the one to take you to the photo shoot. Give this little old woman one more wonderful memory to make all my lonely nights easier to bear. But hurry, because I don’t want to miss a single month of that calendar.”
Kimmie’s mouth dropped open in mock outrage. “You are the least lonely woman I know.” She thumbed at Mrs. Tellier while leaning toward Angelina. “You should hear what she says to her boyfriends on the phone. The woman could be a sex hotline.”
Chuckling, Angelina covered her eyes briefly before saying, “Sorry to disappoint both of you, but I’m not going to the shoot.”
“You’re going,” both women said in unison.
Angelina shook her head. “I’m not. I have a ton of emails to read through already. Why don’t the two of you go?”
Kimmie looked at Mrs. Tellier and asked, “Was she always this little fun?”
Mrs. Tellier nodded. “Since the day I met her. She acts like she’s the only woman who ever got knocked up as a teenager and therefore must spend the rest of her life doing some kind of penance. Her son is an incredible kid. One day I hope she starts celebrating the miracle of him rather than seeing him as a mistake.”
Instantly defensive, Angelina rose to her feet and growled, “I have never considered Whitney a mistake.”
Mrs. Tellier didn’t even blink at the show of aggression. She shrugged. “Then stop acting like your virginity is something that’ll come back if you keep your legs closed long enough. You can have sex without getting pregnant. There’s this amazing invention called condoms.”
Never. Ever had Angelina heard her speak this way. “Mrs. Tellier, have you been drinking?”
“Oh, Lord. First, my name is Linda. You’ve known me for over a decade, you can use my first name. Second, I couldn’t say anything at Reemsly in case there was a child around. You see any children here? Trust me, Kimmie doesn’t care if I say the word condom. Condom. Condom. See? It’s fine.”
Kimmie leaned over and hugged Mrs. Tel—Linda. “I love this woman.”
Slowly, Angelina sank back onto her chair. “I do too. Sorry, Linda. You know how I get when people talk about Whitney.”
Linda’s expression softened. “I’ve watched you grow up, Angelina. You’re a smart woman, a good mother, and a friend I am thankful to have. To be happy, though, you’ll have to forgive the young woman you were before you went to live with your aunt. I didn’t know you back then, but I have feeling young you was pretty wonderful as well. I bet she would have gone to the photo shoot.”
“She absolutely would have.” Angelina’s hands shook slightly as she clasped them on her desk. “But she didn’t have the responsibilities I do. This is a good job. Whitney is back in school. I’m not looking for exciting anymore. It’s not worth the risk.”
Neither Kimmie nor Linda spoke for several moments. Because they know I’m right. Motherhood and movie stars don’t mix.
Finally, Kimmie pursed her lips and stood. “The one I feel bad for is Conner. I bet the shoot isn’t going well.”
“Why do you say that?” Angelina asked.
Kimmie wrinkled her nose. “He puts on a good act, but usually Claire goes to things like that with him. With her wedding coming up so fast, he has been flying solo and that hasn’t been easy for him.”
Linda sighed. “He’s such a sweet boy and he tries so hard.” She looked Angelina over. “Maybe I’m wrong about the two of you being right for each other. He needs a woman who will love him just the way he is. A woman like that would have to be comfortable enough with herself to help him find the same confidence.”
“Hang on, are we talking about the same Connor Sutton?”
Kimmie shook her head. “She doesn’t know the real him because he’s afraid to show her.”
Linda stood. “It’s sad, but life is too short to waste it trying to talk sense into these people. They’re either going to figure it out, or they won’t. When you write Connor as a reluctantly alpha prince, you’ll need to add more sex scenes. Readers won’t want an overly sensitive hero or an indecisive heroine. When I picture Connor wanting me, he picks me up and fucks my brains out against a wall.”
“Me too,” Angelina thought, then went beet red when she realized she’d said the words out loud.
Kimmie leaned across the desk. “Then what are you still doing here?”
Suddenly it was difficult to breathe. “This is a bad idea.” Her body warmed as she remembered the desire in his eyes when he’d looked at her the night before. “I can’t believe I’m even considering going.”
“Go.” Linda chuckled. “Some of my favorite memories started with me turning off that judgmental voice in my head. What about you, Kimmie?”
Kimmie blushed. “Javier and I are pretty tame, but we do like to role play. We get funny looks when we buy so many costumes at the Halloween store, but that’s even part of the fun. Sex is supposed to be fun. Sex with Javier in a gladiator outfit is hilarious and surprisingly erotic.”
After glancing over at Angelina’s face, Kimmie burst out laughing. “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“Kimmie Sanchez,” Linda said with humor. “You’ve been holding out on me. I need to hear more about this side of you.”
Linking arms with Linda, Kimmie started walking away while saying, “I will as long as you don’t tell anyone. Javier would be mortified.”
“It’ll be our little secret,” Linda assured her. “We’ll keep it between me, you, and all your readers.”
Angelina was smiling as they walked out of earshot. Those two were quite a pair. She could only imagine what Kimmie’s books would be like. Probably best sellers. The way nothing seemed impossible lately, they’d be made into movies.
Smile fading, hugging her arms around herself, Angelina went over the last few minutes in her head. She’d never considered Whitney a mistake, and her aunt had never called him one, but Angelina could clearly remember what some of the people in her hometown had said when they’d heard she was pregnant.
Slut.
Whore.
Easy.
The terms were so outdated and sexist, Angelina had told herself they didn’t matter. If they didn’t, though, why did they still ring so clearly in her head? Were they why she’d never taken Whitney back home? Was that the real wedge between her and her family?
I’m not ashamed of Whitney, but of who I used to be.
She blinked back tears. It was all so long ago. It shouldn’t matter anymore.
But it does.
I worked so hard to prove that I’m not that person, to prove that I’d never be that person again.
An imagine of her son filled her thoughts. But if I’d never been her, I wouldn’t have him and I can’t imagine a life without him in it. He’s a better version of me.