After showering and beginning the drive home, my phone buzzes, andAlexander from Starbound AKA ignoreflashes up on the screen. I debate not answering it, but ultimately, putting it off won’t do me—or Darrell—any favours, so I accept the call.
“Evan, my man, how are you?”
My man. I recoil. Are we part of some cringy fraternity or something?
“I’m fine. Driving home from practice.”
“Great, okay, listen, when can we schedule you in for another meeting? I have some great companies lined up that are interested in having you as their face. This could mean big bucks for you and me both, Evan.”
A sigh sounds from my throat. “I’m busy right now, Alexander, and I’m really not interested in representing companies. I have my son to look after. Brand trips and launch parties aren’t a priority for me.” Neither are they even in the question.
There’s a short pause before Alexander says, “Oh, yes! Little Leonardo, how is he?”
“It’s just Leo.” My son’s full name is reserved for friends and family, and Alexander doesn’t fit into either of those categories.
“Right, so, did you see the news report earlier? Wild, isn’t it? Are you gonna tell me you’ve never met this one, either?”
“No, I’ve never met her.”
“Hey, good press, bad press, it’s all press. Are you sure you don’t want to come out and make a statement about this one? Do an interview? Write a book? I’ve got some great ghostwriters who would be perfect for this.”
I stare at the screen of my phone for a beat in disbelief, on the verge of just hanging up. “Do you ever listen to a word Isay, Alexander?”
“Okay, I can hear you’re occupied at the moment. I’ll have Matthew send you some dates for a meeting, so let us know which ones suit you. I promise you you’ll be excited when I tell you the money these companies can make us both.” I can hear the phoney smile in his tone. “I’ll catch you later, man. Great talking to you as always.”
“Bye.” I end the call as I pull up outside my house, gritting my teeth.
That man grinds my gears. It’s no wonder Flo left Starbound, because I don’t understand how anyone can put up with a man like him. I’ve never met someone who loves the sound of their own voice more than he does, and with Flo’s lack of patience with assholes, I’m surprised she lasted so long in a job with him as her boss.
Pushing my key through the front door, I twist it and enter slowly. But my eyes shoot to the couch, where Flo and Leo are, out cold, a kids' show playing on the TV in front of them. My son is curled up to her, his head on her shoulder, both of their chests rising and falling in unison.
I don’t move. I just stand in the doorway with my key in hand.
They look so peaceful. Flo’s eyelashes are long and thick, fanning across her high cheekbones, with a few strands of her long, ashy hair that have fallen from her clip resting against her forehead. She has one arm around Leo’s back in a comforting manner, and a throw blanket covers their dangling legs.
My son looks so calm, his face neutral as he naps.
My eyes drop to Flo’s tanned and toned stomach, the hem of her crochet top having risen to the point I can almost see the underwire of her bra, but I rip my gaze away.
Because I’m definitely not about to ogle my twenty-six-year-old nanny while she’s asleep on the couch with my son.
Although I already did, which makes me feel even worse.
I can’t help but notice how red parts of her legs still are, as if she’s been scratching at them again. It looks uncomfortable, and as I set my bag down, studying the slight hives, Flo stirs.
Her bright blue eyes meet mine as she awakens, and she blinks, momentarily confused, before she glances down at Leo, who’s still fast asleep.
“Shit,” she says nonchalantly, straightening her top, pulling it down so her midriff is no longer on show. “How long have you been back?”
“About thirty seconds.”
“And you stood there and stared at us for a whole thirty seconds?” Flo peels herself away from my son with a grin, replacing her shoulder with a soft cushion, which Leo cuddles up to, smacking his lips.
“I wasn’t staring at you.” My gaze shifts down. “I was wondering why your legs are so red.”
Even red and painful-looking, they could stop traffic. They go on for miles, tanned and sculpted just right.
“I don’t know. They’re just… itchy. Probably the sun or something.”
