Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Elle’s an attractive woman with an intelligent air and long dark hair cinched neatly. I’m a hot mess in my pajama bottoms and a T-shirt—no skating lessons this morning. I adjust my untidy ponytail and start to tuck in my shirt. Then stop and let it hang out. Who tucks shirts into pajamas?
Elle’s polished and poised, but she’s also warm. “I’m well, thanks. And I hear great things about you.”
I blink. I wasn’t expecting that. But whether it came from Tyler or the kids, it has to be good. “The kids talk about you a lot. All good stuff,” I say with a smile. That’s the best approach when meeting the mom, right? It has to be.
“Well, that makes my day,” she says, then adjusts her bag. “Oh, and if Tyler hasn’t remembered Parker’s science fair forms yet, give him a nudge for me. He’s got his strengths, but paperwork isn’t one of them.”
Her tone is light, affectionate. There’s no tension there, no resentment—just the familiarity of co-parenting with someone she still respects. That’s how I read it, at least.
“Got it,” I say, smiling back, then waving as she heads down the steps, her sneakers slapping against the pavement.
I close the door and watch her walk away through the window, trying to piece together the story.
She’s smart, she’s kind, and the kids adore her. Sure, she’s busy, but what…capsized for Tyler and Elle? He knows my deal—he was there the day my life went tits up. But why is he a single dad? What didn’t work with Elle? They clearly get along, so I doubt there was cheating. It truly seems like a good divorce, but there must have been something? The questions chase me as I move farther into the home, tell the kids to get ready for school, then head downstairs to get myself ready.
As I’m pulling on jeans and a sweater, the thoughts swirl again. What does Tyler want now? Is he looking for love, for marriage, for…that kind of life?
And why do I care?
I shake off the thoughts, trying to tell myself it doesn’t matter. It’s not my place. I move on and take the kids to school, like a nanny should do.
A nanny should not obsess about her boss.
Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid any more awkward run-ins with him. No garage moments where I’m wearing only a towel. No heated moments in the kitchen when I sneak furtive glances his way. No massages or naps on my couch. Just the faint reminder of him in small things, like the sheets I curl up in at night or the quiet creak of his footsteps upstairs.
Everything is starting to feel business as usual, especially since I turn in the science fair paperwork. On Friday morning, I head to the rink again at dawn where I take another video of my morning routine, then shoot a skating tutorial on how to do a camel spin. After that, my student arrives, and I focus on her.
I’m nearly two weeks in, and the job is steady. Everything I wanted.
I tell my therapist as much when I finally see her again later that morning, catching her up on everything that’s gone down since my almost wedding.
“And how are you feeling about all that?” Elena asks, waving a hand as if to encompass the montage of the last few months.
I noodle on her question as I look around. It’s…nice to be back in her office. Though, is that the right word for seeing your therapist? Nice? Well, her office has always felt a little like a sanctuary for me. A place where I could escape from the rigors of my parents’ expectations. A spot where I could learn to let go of the rules they implemented for me. So yeah, it is nice.
Her office is cozy, with a picture of a red, snow-covered cabin on the wall that’s always felt homey to me—the opposite of where I grew up, in my parents’ pristine, don’t-touch-the-vases-on-the-mantel kind of home.
Elena Alvarez feels the opposite of them too. She’s grandmotherly, with warm brown skin, silver in her hair, and a crocheted blanket on her couch that her daughter made for her.
“It’s...” I say, stopping to fiddle with the yarn, wanting to get the words right. “It’s good. It feels…like I’m not the Queen of Chaos for the first time.”
“Your summer was a little chaotic,” she says, sympathetically.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what was happening in my life,” I say with a shrug.
“And now?”
That’s the question. I feel stable for the first time in a while, and I don’t want to rock that boat. I probably shouldn’t tell her about my feelings for my boss. They can’t go anywhere. They won’t go anywhere.
“It’s good,” I say brightly. “I like the job, and I can focus on my business too. I like the kids. It’s great.”