“No, thank you.” She steps into the living room but doesn’t sit down, just stands there holding that piece of paper like it might explode. “I need to tell you something.”
The formal tone in her voice confirms my worst suspicions. This isn’t a conversation between friends or even employer and employee. This is an ending.
“Okay.” I stay standing too, suddenly afraid to get too comfortable.
“I’m giving you my two weeks’ notice.” She holds out the folded paper, and I can see her hand trembling slightly. “My last day will be Friday after next.”
It feels like the floor opens up beneath my feet. I take the paper automatically, but I don’t unfold it. I can’t seem to process what she’s saying.
“I don’t understand. Is this about the long hours? Because I can adjust my schedule.”
“It’s not about the hours.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “This is what’s best for everyone. You’ll have time to find a good replacement nanny service.”
“Alexa, wait.” I set the paper on the coffee table without reading it. “If I’ve done something wrong, if I’ve made you uncomfortable in any way…”
“You haven’t done anything wrong.” She looks directly at me for the first time since she arrived. “This is my decision. I’ve thought about it carefully, and it’s time for me to move on.”
Move on. The phrase feels like a knife twisting in my chest.
“Is this about another job? Because I can match whatever salary they’re offering. Or increase your current pay. Whatever you need.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not about money.”
“Then what is it about?” The question comes out more desperate than I intended. “I thought we were working well together. Henry’s comfortable with you. You said you enjoyed taking care of him.”
“I do enjoy taking care of Henry. He’s an amazing little boy.” Her voice softens when she mentions my nephew. “But I need to think about what’s best for my family long-term.”
“Your family?”
“I’m putting the house on the market. A smaller place makes more sense for just me and Ash.”
The second bombshell hits even harder than the first. She’s not just leaving the job. She’s leaving the neighborhood. Leaving me completely.
“You’re selling your grandmother’s house?” I can hear the panic in my own voice and hate how obvious it is.
“It’s too big for just the two of us. And honestly, we could use a fresh start.”
A fresh start. Away from me, away from this situation, away from whatever mess I’ve created between us.
I want to argue with her, to tell her she’s making a mistake, that we can figure this out. But the careful way she’s standing, the prepared speech, the formal notice letter sitting on my coffee table… this isn’t a discussion. This is a decision she’s already made.
“When did you decide this?” I ask, sinking onto the couch because standing suddenly feels impossible.
“Recently.” She remains standing, keeping a physical distance between us. “I’ve been thinking about making some changes, and this feels like the right time.”
“Because of me.” It’s not a question.
“Because of what’s best for my son and me.” She doesn’t deny it, which somehow makes it worse, and I don’t blame her. How could I?
The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we’re not saying. I want to tell her that I’ve been miserable these past days, that work feels empty without having her and Henry and Ash to come home to. I want to explain that I’ve been keeping my distance because I care about her too much, not too little.
But what’s the point? She’s already decided to leave. And maybe she’s right. Maybe this is for the best.
“I should go.” She glances toward the door. “I just wanted to give you as much notice as possible.”
“Alexa.” I stand up, not sure what I want to say but knowing I can’t let her leave like this. “I want you to know that having you here, watching you with Henry, seeing how patient and kind you are… it’s meant more to me than you know.”
Something shifts in her expression, a crack in the professional façade. “Jordan…”
