Page 8 of Love Unscripted
The conversation drifted back to sports and industry gossip, but Aaron excused himself sooner than usual. He didn’t want to linger. He didn’t want to discuss Camille and he had no guarantee that conversation might not drift to her again.
Upstairs, he found Dana and Madison sitting cross-legged on a plush rug, colorful alphabet cards scattered between them.
“A is for…?” Dana prompted.
“Angel!” Madison chirped.
Aaron’s heart squeezed.
The moment she saw him she sprang up. “Daddy!”
She launched herself into his arms with such force he staggered back laughing.
“Well hello, sweet pea.” He kissed her cheek. “How was school?”
She began an enthusiastic, slightly chaotic retelling involving glue, glitter, and a boy named Nathan who “doesn’t share but I shared anyway because Jesus says to share.”
Dana smiled from her seat, watching them.
“You look tired,” she said gently once Madison paused for breath. “Do you want something to eat?”
“No, Mom. I ate on set. I just want to get her home and into bed.”
Dana stood, smoothing her blouse. “You’re pushing yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You don’t have to prove anything, Aaron.”
He met her eyes. She knew him too well. “I’m not,” he said quietly.
She lifted one eyebrow—exactly like Robert. He almost smiled.
“You’re a good director,” she said. “And you’re a good father. Cut yourself some slack.”
He nodded, though he knew that he wouldn’t.
Madison tugged his sleeve. “Can we stop for ice cream?”
“Not at eight o’clock at night,” he said.
“Grandma lets me.”
Dana gasped. “That is slander. That only happened one time.”
Madison giggled.
When they left the house, Aaron strapped Madison into her car seat and drove home through the dark Malibu roads, her chatter slowly dissolving into drowsy silence.
By the time they pulled into his driveway, her head had tilted sideways, lashes resting against flushed cheeks.
He sat for a moment before turning off the engine.
Directing his father. Managing a crew. Holding Camille in careful, professional boundaries. So far, it was working. He had kept control. Of the set. Of her. Of himself.
And yet…
As he carried Madison inside, a strange unease pressed against his ribs. He couldn’t name it. But he had the distinct feeling that something was shifting beneath the surface. Like the air just before a storm.
