Ella looks at me, her eyes searching for something before they dart around. “So… you have a kid? I didn’t know.”
“Oh, no, I’m nannying for a little while before I head out on that trip I always talked about. He’s not mine.”
Her face is stunned, blinking before she releases a throaty laugh. “You’re nannying? Oh my gosh, Flo, that is hilarious. You left Starbound to work with kids?” She places a condescending hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off. “Wow, I hope it’s not something you’re thinking of doing full-time, because there is absolutely no money in that.” Ella smiles at me, a sad, pitiful one. “You’re better than that, Flo.”
“I’m better than what? Having to deal with you and your melon melodrama?”
Or melo-n-drama. I laugh at my own joke.
Ella’s perfectly plucked brows fly into her hairline. “Wow, since when did you develop such an attitude?”
Is she actually serious?
“About the same time my patience for people like you and Alexander ran out,” I quip back, spinning on my heel and joining Leo at the swings, pretending Ella Baxter isn’tstaring at me with a mouth so wide it looks like she’s about to dislocate her jaw.
Sure, she has a voice like velvet and a face that’s perfect without a brush of makeup, but talent will only get you so far when you’re an unlikeable person. Ella is buried under layers of arrogance and entitlement, and as I smile down at Leo, who’s squealing with excitement while I push him on the swing, I realise I didn’t fail when I quit my job at Starbound.
I escaped.
That wasn’t me.Thisfeels like me. And I’m sad that soon, it’ll be coming to an end.
18: Flo
I’m driving back to Evan’s land. The sun will be setting in about thirty minutes, so we have plenty of time to get back home.
Leo sits in his car seat in the back with Donkey on his lap, licking on a lemon-flavoured lollipop. After the fun in the park, we headed into the city centre, where Mae and Poppy went home, and Leo, Donkey, and I raided the local candy store because I wanted to prove to him that there are better things out there than pickle-flavoured gum drops.
We got heart-shaped marshmallows.
Twizzlers.
Gushers.
Cotton candy-flavoured popcorn.
And a couple bars of Hershey’s chocolate, which will probably be melted by the time we get home.
But I promised Leo we could pour them into moulds and turn them into dinosaur-shaped chocolate bars instead.
Of course, I’ll have to give myself a hit of insulin before eating my controlled portion of the candy, but I have to treat myself now and then.
“Did you have a good day, Leo?”
“Yeah!” he calls from the backseat. “Donkey did too!”
“I could tell. He ate so many gushers, I’m surprised his donkey belly isn’t going to explode.”
“I won’t let him!”
That makes me giggle. “You’re a good dad to him.”
But Leo turns the conversation around on its head, asking me, “Flo, do you have a dad?”
I blink. “Um, yes, I do.”
“Do you have a mom?”
My throat runs dry, and it’s hard to swallow. “I do, bud.”
