“Isaac, how are you?” David’s caretaker Kathy unlocks and opens the screen to let me inside, a baby on her hip. “How was your day?”
“Good. Can’t complain.” Though, that’s not entirely true. My mind flashes to the set this morning, and Scott’s hands all over Cora, whispering to her as if he were in love. It makes me want to vomit, but I push the image out of my head. My eyes shoot across the room to where David’s playing with the toy cars. “How was he today?”
Kathy’s lips pinch with her smile. “We had a little altercation.”
My stomach drops.
“It was an accident, but one of the girls came over to engage him while he was playing with the trains. She knocked over some of the track and grabbed a toy to join in, but you know how he is. I was feeding one of the babies and couldn’t break them up before he hit her.”
“He hit her?” Oh, no.
“She’s fine. Nothing major. I told Luci’s mom what happened, and it’s not a problem. Kids hit. Accidents happen.” But there’s something in her tone that causes my gut to tighten with apprehension.
“He struggles with change.” Change to his routine. His environment. His focused play. The worst part is he doesn’t know how to express his frustration. I exhale, but more worry fills my chest. Mamá’s incessant nagging replays in my mind. She’s right, though. “He should be talking.”
“You still have that appointment with the speech specialist tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I was planning to keep him home afterward. I don’t know how stressful it’ll be on him.” Or me.
“Good.” Kathy rocks the baby on her hip. The little one—maybe six months or so—stares up at me with big wide brown eyes. I wonder if things would be different had I known my son at his age. Would I be having these same doubts? Would David be the same child he is now? A conflicting feeling swirls inside, because there’s nothing I’d change about my son.
“It’s got to be so frustrating for him, you know?” She nods to where David plays, quiet and separate from his peers. “He has so much inside of him, and there’s no way for it to come out. He’s a good boy.”
“I know.” I’m failing him. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but there’s got to be something I’m missing. Something to help him speak. But there’s no magic potion or switch to flip. I only hope tomorrow we’ll get some answers. I’m desperate for them.
As if Kathy senses my inner turmoil, she touches my arm to draw my attention back to her. “Isaac. You’re doing a great job with him.” She says it with such conviction.
I only wish I could believe her.
Thirty-Four
Cora
I don’t get to talk to Isaac on set today. We must be in the middle of a scene when the afternoon guy relieves his station. I can’t help but be disappointed he doesn’t stay to at least wave good-bye. I worry today was too much for him—or that I’ve scared him off. Not that I have much time to dwell; Isabella is a taskmaster today. She doesn’t stop to argue with the camera crew once, and it’s after seven by the time I get back to my trailer.
I have one text from Isaac, but it’s ominous, lacking any insight to where his head is.
Isaac: Come by the coffee shop tonight if you want.
What does that mean? I wish I could read his mind, but I keep picturing his face, angry and tight as he stared at Scott’s hands on my body.
I’m debating whether to head there now or grab something to eat first when my cell rings. The familiar name of my good friend brings a smile to my lips. “Jess! Hey!”
“Hi, Cora!”
“I miss you.” It’s been too long since we’ve hung out. “Where are you right now? Please tell me you’re free for dinner.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I just got out of work and Sean’s practicing late. I’m on Rodeo, but I can come to you.”
“Oh, thank God. I’m starving.” For dinner and female conversation. “Meet in the middle?”
“Charlie’s?”
“Yes! I haven’t been there since the last time we met up.” Which was almost six months ago. It’s a miracle I still have friends. “I’m leaving Americana Studios now.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up and hustle out to enjoy some good conversation and food—and hopefully gain a little perspective before I face Isaac again. I crank the AC and the volume of my music on the drive to have dinner with Jess, and my mood already lightens.
I walk into Charlie’s, grab the last empty booth, and order our usual. It’s the first time all day I’ve been able to sit down and relax.
Jess walks in a few minutes later. Her gaze catches mine and she weaves her way through the crowded restaurant. “It’s so good to see you!”
I stand, opening my arms for a hug. “You look fantastic.”
She laughs, sliding into the booth and waving off my compliment. “You always say that.” She reaches for a menu. “Did you order yet?”
“I did.” I wince, trying for sorry but end up laughing. “For both of us. Is that okay?”
“Two grilled chicken salads with a side of fries?”
“You know it.” I wink.
“Perfect. I’m so hungry. Today was crazy.”
“Things going good at the boutique?” I hooked Jess up with a job with one of LA’s top designers. Actually, it’s how we met, but later discovered we shared mutual friends, and the rest is history. “Paula’s treating you well?”
“Oh, man. It’s wonderful. I’m learning so much.”
“I feel so bad I missed Austin and Jayla’s wedding.”
“And we all missed you, but don’t sweat it. You were working.”
“I’m always working.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“So, when are you and Sean gonna make it official?” They’re totally devoted, but I’m surprised he hasn’t locked her down with a date. My guess is it has more to do with her past relationship baggage.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, but there’s a smile on her lips. “When I’m ready, which might be a while.”
“You make him wait as long as you need.”
“He’s good to me.” She absently stirs her water with her straw. “What about you? Any guy brave enough to try and pin you down?”
I try not to think about today.
“Oh, no.” Jess takes my hesitation for something else. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing.” Not true.
“You’re lying.”
“I am.” I groan, cross my arms onto the table and drop my head with a soft thump. “Why can’t I just be normal?”
A flash from across the restaurant draws our gaze to a couple not so covertly snapping candid photos of us. It causes a few other tables to take notice, and soon there are several people pointing.
“Hate to break it to you, but that ship has sailed,” she says dryly.