"Hey," I say with an easy smile. "You're in the right place. Go ahead and sign in."
The kid relaxes a fraction and heads for the table.
Behind me, Belinda's phone buzzes as she types.
And somewhere deep in my chest, beneath all the sensible plans and reasonable red flags that should make me take this conversation back, something shifts. Something familiar, warm, and dangerous.
It would feel good to be needed again.
Chapter 5
Rika
Thecoffeeinmymug has gone cold, and I'm still no closer to solving my childcare problem.
I stare at the mug and wonder when I last drank a cup of coffee while it was actually still hot. Probably years ago. My life is aconstant game of catch-up where I perpetually stay three steps behind.
Ugh, I'm running on fumes, and I know it.
Too bad. Pick yourself up by the bootstraps, girl.
Well, that's dramatic. It's not like my life is always a hectic mess, is it? Well, maybe it is.
Ugh, again. Double ugh. At least I don't have to contend with Mitchell nagging me about keeping the house cleaner or cooking more elaborate meals. Or losing some of the roundness around my ass that my stress-eating has inevitably caused. He's gone, and his criticisms and petty comments are gone with him.
Enough. You're turning into a bitter old shrew.
I take another sip of cold coffee and wince at the taste, then I double down on my research for a new nanny on the main nanny agency websites where I found all my previous nannies.
I've sent three requests for interviews last night, and they all declined already. All were polite, but they gave no reason why they refused to even interview with me. I'm pretty sure Margaret made good on her promise to spread my reputation far and wide in the nanny-sphere, if such a thing exists. Still, I can't afford not to try, so I keep scrolling through nanny placement websites, reading profiles that all blur together into a mess of smiling faces and glowing references.
I send five more messages requesting interviews with potential candidates, then close the laptop with more force than necessary and press my palms against my eyes.
Breathe, Rika. Just breathe.
But breathing doesn't solve the fact that I have back-to-back client meetings tomorrow starting at eight a.m. or that Matthew needs to get to his soccer practice at four p.m. or that Zoe thinks I'm a terrible mother.
I'm pretty sure she has a point, anyway.
My phone buzzes on the table. I glance at the screen and see a text from Geraldine, my office manager and the only person in my life who doesn't sugarcoat anything.
Geraldine:Heard about the nanny. You okay?
I type back quickly.
Me:Define okay.
Geraldine:Fair point. Need me to move tomorrow's meetings?
God, yes. I want to say yes so badly it makes my teeth ache. But I can't. The Hendersons are one of my biggest clients and I still have to finalize their quarterly taxes, and the Pazteks need their business deduction consultation before they file next week.
I'm stuck.
Me:No. I'll be there.
Geraldine:You're going to burn out.
Me:Already there. Maybe I'll just rise from my own ashes like a phoenix.
