“I thought you might need a hand packing,” Connie replies, leaning down and hugging Ozzie, but she isn’t her usual bright self. Her long dark hair is in a tight plait which curls around her neck and sits on her shoulder. She isn’t wearing makeup and her brown eyes are bloodshot.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She nods with a smile that isn’t fooling anyone. “Hey, you,” she says, lifting Oz up into her arms. “I’ve missed you, little buddy.”
“I missed you too, Connie. Can you help me find Mr Potato Head?”
“Sure. Let me just check if your daddy needs me to do any washing or?—”
“We’re good. I’ve packed a few things already and, believe it or not, I’m up to date with clean clothes.”
“That’s impressive.”
“I did my washing for a long time before you came alongto help, so going to university wasn’t a complete waste of time.” Her half-hearted laugh is less convincing than her smile. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask again, but we’re interrupted.
“Mr Potato Head!” Ozzie tugs her sweatshirt, urging Connie to help him look.
“Coming, Oz. You check your toy cupboard and I’ll look in here.”
“But I already looked in there.”
“Then look again, little man.” She sets Oz down and he runs straight to his room, then Connie turns her attention to me. “I’m packed and ready to go, Mr Graham, so just let me know if you need anything at all.”
She is about to leave, but I’ve got a burning question that can’t wait. “Connie, can I ask you something?”
She turns around to face me. “Of course. What’s up?”
“It’s about Dylan Jennings,” I say, scratching the back of my neck.
Her eyebrows rise. “The lead singer of Vocational Rock?”
“Yeah, the one and only.” It takes a lot of effort to smile when I mention his name. “Did he ever visit the apartment when I wasn’t here?”
She puffs out a breath and raises her brows. “No. I’m pretty sure I would be able to pinpoint every visit we ever had from that guy.”
“Yeah, of course.” He’s in one of her favourite bands. Of course she’d mention something like that.
“Is that all, Mr Graham?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Connie.”
“No problem. Should I get Ozzie something to eat?”
“No, we’re good. I’m just making dinner and there’s enough for three if you want to join us.”
“I found it!” Ozzie screams, running head-on towards us.
“Where was it?” Connie asks, picking up my boy while he swishes Mr Potato Head above her head.
He grins. “Under my bed.”
She shakes her head. “Come on. Let’s get the rest of your things packed,” she says, taking him into his room. “And I’d love some dinner, please,” she calls over her shoulder.
While I continue to cook, my mind wanders. I guess from her reaction, Connie doesn’t have a clue about Dylan and Chelsea, which is kind of a comfort. For one, whatever she’s upset about—and I know she’s upset about something—it has nothing to do with me or Chelsea.
So, what is wrong with our nanny? I know she has a boyfriend, but I haven’t met him yet. She keeps her relationship private and I get that, but if I ever find out who he is and if he’s upset her, I’ll have two guys on my hit list to deal with.
Apart from the usual press hassle at the airport, our journey home is smooth. The flight is trouble-free thanks to Connie. She keeps Oz occupied with stories, games, and watching his favourite film on the iPad, which of course isToy Story. After only five minutes of viewing, he’s fast asleep. This gives me time to catch up with her and make sure she’s okay.
