His brows rise.
Mine furrow. “Is that…inconvenient?”
He shakes his head. “Perfectly convenient. I was not expecting you to be so diligent.”
I have spent the last few hours making sure I know exactly how many grams of protein he’s aiming for in a given day. Where did my knack fordiligenceget lost, exactly? However, knowing that question isn’t socially acceptable, I just fix a smile on my face and say, “So, I’ll see you tonight at six?”
He nods, once, curt as ever. “Sounds great. See you then.”
Chapter 4
?
I am…….no longer fit for marriage.
Mirabelle
“You’re taking the job!” Fawn shrieks in my earbuds while I drive from my last house of the day back to Mr. Anders’s. “AndI can actually move with you?”
“Well, yes? That’s what he said. He’ll be adding it to the contract, too.”
“Wow.”
I know. Those are my feelings exactly.
“And you used up your cleaning time discussing the terms, so you’ll be home late tonight?”
“Yep.” My car coughs, just a little, and I swear there’s a creak when I press the clutch at a red light, but this old car has lasted me my entire driving life thus far, and she shall proceed to. Taking the stoplight opportunity, I pet her deep charcoal dash to soothe her.
“This is crazy,” Fawn says.
“Tell me about it.” I blow out a breath and turn onto the street of homes that rich people who don’t live in the area rent. Passing one grand place after the next, I come up to where the homes thin into choppy woods that then lead to the jewel of the street—Mr. Anders’s place. “There’s a sign-on bonus,” I say. “And a 401(k) plan.”
“I don’t even know what a 401(k) is.”
“I think it’s…for retirement?”
“Oh, so you don’t know, either.”
Yes, well. I mean. Basically, no. But I’m apparently going to have one.
“This iscrazy,” Fawn repeats, and I find myself smiling.
“It’s insane.”
“Bonkers, really.”
“Totally and utterly.” Probably delirious, I say, “I don’t even really like Mr. Anders.”
Fawn’s voice deadpans. “What?”
“I mean, he’s fine. Cordial. Respectful enough, if you get past the fact he’s tattooed like a yakuza member and looks like he could murder you at any moment with a butter knife, or a rubber band, or a piece of lint. He’s just so…rough. I’ve never seen him smile. I have no idea what he’s thinking. I’m honestly shocked he offered me the job, because I’ve spent the past four years thinking that he’s hated having me clean for him because something about memustbother him.” That’s it. That’s the thing that makes me so uncomfortable around him. “He has a demeanor that implies he’s always, always,alwaysbothered. He doesn’tlookat anything; he glares. And his voice is never light or friendly. He’s all business, all the time. It makes me anxious.”
“Yikes. Are you going to be okay working for him?”
“I hope that maybe if I get to know him a little better, we’ll get into a rhythm, but also the contract is only for six months starting out, a trial period, so I think I can manage for at least that long.”
“And if you can’t manage for longer, then what? You’ll be out of a job, and we’ll have to move. Again. Within six months.”
