Aelin turned back and nearly sighed as his hand dropped from her skin. Something about his sad grey eyes broke down the wall of professionalism she’d intended to keep up during this conversation. He’d already been witness to her worst moment that didn’t involve Clark Moses over the past ten years. So. She was going to cut the bullshit.
“Yes, I was interested. I’ve been searching for jobs that would allow me to stay home with Bailey this summer and haven’t found anything. I was so sure I’d be able to find something that worked that I didn’t hedge my bets. Now every available camp or au paire or nanny is going to cost me an internal organ, and since my ex-husband is currently committing tax fraud so he doesn’t have to pay more child support, I’m debating between a kidney or a lung. So yes. I was definitely interested.”
Aelin glanced at the people still milling through the hall, hoping they hadn’t heard a syllable of that depressing monologue.
“Oh.” Ryan crossed his arms in front of him. “What would you charge?”
Aelin opened her mouth, then closed it. Then tried again. “Eight hundred a week.” She’d done the mental math on the way over. If she got a full-time job and had to put Bailey in a summer camp, that was about what it would even out to. She didn’t want to ream him, and that amount was completely manageable.
She continued, “I would be giving undivided attention to the girls. We’ll do at least three field trips a week and on the two days we’re home, we’ll do baking and crafts and projects in the backyard. I grew up an athlete, so physical activity is important to me. I’ll make sure they eat healthy, but not so healthy that they hate me. I can offer one overnight a week so you can have time off and be with your wife.”
Her throat felt like it was going to swell closed, and Bailey’s choir director was going to have to trach her with a ball-point pen. When Ryan didn’t respond immediately, she somehow defied biology and kept talking. “I can do a background check if you want. I’ll work as an independent contractor, so you don’t have to worry about taxes, and?—”
“You don’t need to do a background check.” Ryan watched her, his eyes steady.
Why could she never figure out what was going on in his head? “Okay.”
He dropped his arms, putting his hands in his pockets. “Okay.”
“So . . . did you want to think about it and?—”
“I don’t need to think about it. That sounds great.”
The voices in the hallway faded into an amorphous buzz. She nodded, then clenched her fists to try and get feeling back into her fingers. “So it’s a yes?”
He nodded. “Send me a contract.”
“Right. Yes. I’ll ask Chat GPT to make me one tonight.”
The corner of Ryan’s mouth lifted. “Do you need my email address?”
“Mmhmm.” She pulled her phone from her purse and opened a new contact, quickly realizing the only thing she knew about him was his first name. “Here.” She handed it to him. Let him fill out whatever information he felt comfortable giving her.
She waited for him to finish tapping his fingers on her phone screen, pretending to be interested in anything other than the fact that his hand was wrapped around her cell. When he handed it back, she scanned the contact page.Ryan Vargo.He left his phone, email, and address along with a note, “Amaya’s dad.” She had a feeling she’d never need to search for his daughter’s name to remember where to find him.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Ryan nodded once, then walked back toward his friends. Aelin pressed her palms against the cool, painted cinder block wall. She got a job. She got a job that wasn’t a night shift and didn’t require her to leave Bailey.
She pulled out her phone and hesitated a second too long on Ryan’s contact before pulling up her texts and typing a message out to her lawyer.
Chapter
Nine
Ryan pulledup to the house and killed the engine. Amaya was already unbuckled and halfway out the door before he had a chance to say anything. He stepped out and grabbed her overnight bag from the back seat, then walked it up to the front porch of his in-laws' home.
Laura opened the door, her face lighting up the way it always did when she saw Amaya. "There's my girl!" She pushed the screen door to the side, and Amaya bolted into her arms.
Ryan waited for them to move past the threshold, then set the bag on the tile floor just inside the entry. "Thanks for watching her, Laura."
"Of course. We love having her here. I just finished up some banana bread and Russ is home from the garden centre, so we have plenty of time to devote to this precious one." She pressed a kiss to Amaya's head.
Russ joined them from the back porch, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Ryan, good to see you."
"You too, Russ." Ryan extended a hand, and Russ gave it a firm shake.
Laura smiled. "Do you want some bread?”
