Chapter 8 Laurel

"Do you have kids?" I query with a heightened need for an answer, almost sounding like a curious little girl who just won't stop bugging her guardian.

"NO, silly," he disputes hurriedly, leaving an emphatic 'OF COURSE NOT' to my perception.

I wince, quite dazed by his reaction.

It's just kids, why is he acting like I just asked if he would die for me?

"For the park theme it's going to be a family setting so I asked them to get kid models for it."

"So basically we'll be playing parents," I chirp lightly with jots of sarcasm.

He looks down at me, a tiny line of disgust between his brows. Playing dumb to that, I ask, "How come I'm only hearing about this now?"

"You don't even know the next concept, Laurel."

Yeah, I care more about the next footstep I'll be taking than I do about this lousy shoot. "Even at that, Ivan. You should've at least told me if you were gonna make me a mom."

The words roll off quite flippantly and before the connection between my brain and mouth is restored, he's already arching a brow at me with his head slanted sideways, his features rooping the ridiculous light he sees me in. There's also the faint line of disgust on his forehead that has my insides twisting with embarrassment.

I press my lips together, darting my eyes awkwardly. Without uttering a word, he shakes his head in 'disappointment' and walks out.

I cringe, abashed. What on earth went on in his head at that brief moment bugs me but I just hope I did not unconsciously sound desperate, or sound like someone who used something else as an excuse to cover up her original intent. The possibility grows thick, weighing down on my mind.

I grimace self-consciously before following suit.

As we walk over to the others, I recognize my tailgater – most likely Aspen – from our wedding night who approaches Ivan while the rest of his company stay behind in the background. I then sight two lovely kids – a boy and a girl – held in both hands by Aspen's colleague – I presume – in a black suit.

Aspen goes ahead to brief Ivan on the recent happenings back home, their voices bouncing between each other in undertones, while my eyes have already been smeared to the lovely kids being spoken to by the shoot director.

The girl has coffee-brown hair falling to her neck in curly strands. Her deep brown eyes matching her hair color add a serene look to her overall appearance, and the childly aura around her captivates me.

The boy is just as pretty, having curly deep brown hair around his head. He's got sharp grey eyes sitting beneath bushy feminine brows accenting his petite features.

They look reserved and timid – typical of kids in a strange environment.

"Their tent is ready over there, you can take them," the shoot director instructs one of his female colleagues who steps forward to take the kids. They're not less than ten feet away from us, making his voice barely audible but because my attention has been entwined in their conversation from when he inquired if the best kid models were hired, I hear him clearly.

"I'll take them," I bolt to myself, and my legs move toward them reflexively. A slight smile hangs the corners of my lips upward subconsciously and when the little girl's eyes divert to mine, the smile deepens. "I said, I'll take them," I repeat softly eliminating our distance before raising my eyes to the director.

"You'll take them?" he reechoes, surprised.

"You heard me." His eyes climb a few centimeters above my head, switching course just before I crouch to the kids. "Hello, there, beautiful," ruffling their soft perfumed hair sweetly, I greet them with a smile. "What's your name?" I direct to the girl who gives me a placid "Eleanor" in return. My heart beats in agreement with her adorableness.

To the boy, I ask, "And yours?"

"Jayden," he responds mellowly.

"I'm Laurel," I tell them with both hands on my chest like we're even now. If I want to get them to loosen up a bit, they have to at least know my name. "You don't mind coming with me, right?" I ask nicely.

They exchange guileless stares before giving me their approval in gentle nods. Jerking back an inch with a smile, I take their hands and stand.

My eyes spring into Ivan's array of view, making eye contact. Until now he's had to walk on a thin line to make me behave but right now I am jumping into taking responsibility for the kids who are here for the same photoshoot. Disregarding the obvious query on his face, I walk the kids down to the tent that has been prepared for them.

I am an ardent lover of kids. Even once, while I was a growing teen, I daydreamed about going on a boat cruise with my spouse and lovely kids, all wearing matching beach outfits. That's why even now, my love for them supersedes whatever spite Ivan has been stacking in my heart.

In their company, my heart can only beat melodiously as their light giggles while they play around me, are like music to my ears.

"What's going on here?" Ivan walks in on the jolly scene and drowns it all in the sullenness his presence carries around like clothing.

Eleanor's laughter ceases abruptly and the pillow Jayden has in the air to throw at her halts midway and retracts into his bosom. My shoulders fall on seeing him, followed by my lips releasing a 'Not again' sigh.

Alone with me, the duo couldn't be perkier, sousing the air in elation. They were also outspoken as I asked them about their age, families, favorite dishes, and all other kiddish talks that could keep us going. That made me realize they weren't actually as timid as I thought, and were, on the contrary, brimming with life.

However glaring back at Ivan now, makes me realize the kids must have been turned into robots on their way here to suit the 'master's' stringent requirements.

"Do I need to remind you of what you're here for?"

Eleanor crosses both hands before her and bows apologetically and Jayden follows suit. The duo are acting quite mature for their age, and it breaks my heart to see how kids who are supposed to be free-spirited have been prematurely hauled into adulthood all in the name of 'work.'

I've always known kid models were a thing but still, what kind of parents would allow their kids to work in these conditions?

"Your silence proves that you know exactly what you're here for so save me the stress of having to recite your job descriptions like lullabies and stop. Goofing around," he orders like he's speaking with his contemporaries and not mere six-year-olds.

My eyelids stretch as he turns to leave. My lips then mimic, letting out, "Ivan, they're kids, c'mon!"

"God, I wonder how you're going to treat your own kids," I scoff.

'What. Did you just say?'

His back freezes and it's like I'm playing the wallball where I throw a ball at a wall for a rebound. His back is the wall in this case, and the words, my ball that vaults back to me.

They ring in my ears.

First, it was 'making me a mom,' and now it's indirectly pushing the idea that I indeed want to be THAT mom.

'Just what is wrong with you today, Laurel?'

I DON'T KNOW.

He tilts his side profile over his shoulder, making it seem like he's about to turn around but doesn't. Instead, he walks out silently.

I run both hands through my hair with annoyance.

"Is everything okay?" a serene voice from beside me asks. Lifting my eyes, it's a dewy-eyed Eleanor.

"I'm fine," I say with a feigned smile. "Now, let's get you ready."

In matching branded sweat-shorts, tee shirts, sunglasses, and sneakers, the next shoot commences.

This round sucks in another bout of hours. But this time it leaves me feeling refreshed rather than fatigued. Having to roam the park with the kids wearing hearty smiles wasn't so bad after all.

While the crew pack up their tools in preparation for the next venue, the kids play around a park bench, keeping me engrossed.

"Ever since the kids came into the picture, it's been a smooth sail getting you to cooperate," Ivan observes from beside me.

"I love them," I reply unconsciously. "They're beautiful, adorable, and loving." After a brief intentional pause, I proceed with a tone change, "Unlike someone I know."

"Want some?" The question comes off vaguely so I snub, grinning from ear to ear at the kids. But it keeps ringing in my ears until suddenly, its meaning registers.

My jaw drops as I whip a gape over to him only to meet his frigid eyes.

"Playtime's over," he says nonchalantly. "Get the kids." Just like that, he walks out on a mute flustered Laurel.