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I almost lean into Remington, but he holds up a gunk of the white viscous shit, reminiscent of the semen scene in Something About Mary.
I’m thoroughly mortified. “Oh, thanks.” It comes out a bit too breathy for my liking. I pride myself on being unflappable, but this situation makes me a nervous chicken, flapping and losing feathers all over the damn place.
Not to mention, I’ve violated this man in my mind every which way since he’s been here. If he could read my thoughts, he’d be filing a restraining order against my vagina, stat.
As far as nannies go, I’m sure he’s good. He’s from Child Care Connection, after all, and Kiara runs a top-notch organization. But there are other nannies out there, right? Ones I won’t be attracted to. Ones that won’t cause so much trouble.
I need to make him go. It’s a bit heartbreaking, but it’s the right thing to do.
“Listen, Remington—”
“Remi,” he interjects. “Please, call me Remi. Remington makes me feel old.” He makes a face.
If he feels old, what the hell am I?
I want to say, Impossible, but I continue on with my original thought. “I’m sure you’re great and all. It’s just that I assumed the agency was going to send me someone with more experience.”
His lips thin with the tone of his voice. “I am experienced. I’ve read your file and agreed to your list of requirements.”
“How long have you been with Child Care Connection?” I ask point-blank because life experience has taught me to spot bullshit from a mile away. If there’s probable cause to let him go, I’m doing it. I have no need for this kind of emotional turmoil on top of everything else I’m dealing with.
“Almost two years. But before that, I—”
“Have you nannied many toddler girls?” Rapid fire is the only way I work. Facts, kid. Just give me the facts.
“Not many, but I’ve been volunteering with Big Brother for six years and work with children of all ages.”
“I’ll take that as a no. Tell me something, Remi, what do you know about potty training?”
His cheeks turn a beautiful shade of white panic. I’ve got him where I want him, squirming like a worm under a magnifying glass. Though, it doesn’t feel as sweet as I thought it would. It’s as unsatisfying as a salad when I’m craving a steak. The victory tastes pretty sour.
“I’ll tell the agency that you were very professional but that we are not a good fit. Thank you for coming today.” I walk over to the front door of my brownstone and swing it wide open, hoping he takes the hint before this gets any more awkward.
Remington’s face is painted in irritation as he strides toward the door. “Good luck finding someone who meets all of your unspoken expectations, ma’am.” He smirks his way past me and out of our life.
His acute observation slices like a papercut, and the word “ma’am” pours acid on the wound. It takes everything in me to not slam the door.
Chapter 2
Crow Feathers and Latte Foam
Mae
My child alarm sounds at 5am. I groan. It’s a lot earlier than normal. When I pick up my daughter for a kiss, I know why—her cheeks are burning.
Shit. She has a fever.
An important meeting with our investors is tomorrow, and I need to prepare for it. I’m proposing the changes that need to take place in order to set ourselves up for a lucrative partnership with a conglomerate. If all goes well, jobs will be secured and everyone will get paid handsomely. If the company’s taken care of, so are its financial insecurities. It’s not dire, but growing up with nothing leaves a nugget of desperation in the back of my mind. All it takes is one wrong move, and I could lose our employees, along with what little time I have with my daughter. She’ll lose, most of all.
I want to be able to take a step back and make beautiful memories with Isabel, for her to have the charmed childhood I never had. But mostly, I want to have the freedom to be there for her whenever she needs me.
Isabel’s sweaty, fussy, and squirmy in my arms. I pull her into my chest, resting her head on my shoulder. My heart knows she needs me home today, but my head is yelling at me to prepare for the conference so that I don’t have to make these gut-wrenching choices in the future. I’m the only one who can do it. I leave the art to Jay, but I won’t put the burden of this company on anyone else until Ever Heart is secure. People are depending on me to nail this presentation.
It’s just one day, isn’t it?
One day among a list of many that all add up to neglect. Neglected kids grow up to have behavioral problems, teen self-esteem issues, and trouble forming trusting relationships as adults. I know because I’ve experienced it. What if she ends up a lonely workaholic like me and like my mother before me?
A rope of regret constricts my neck.
