As if I don’t miss her enough when every damn minute of every damn day I’m reminded that a giant piece of my heart is gone.
“I’ll get them to you this week,” I tell Robert through the ache in my throat.
Then I head down the hall, the heaviness on my chest growing more suffocating with every step.
CHAPTER FOUR
ROWAN
I pullup to the end of a quiet cul-de-sac and immediately feel like my van doesn’t belong here. It looks like the kind of neighborhood I imagined for myself in my old life.
Manicured lawns. Identical mailboxes. Wide driveways. The kind of community where packages are probably safe being left unattended.
I check the address on my phone.
Then the house.
Then the address again.
This is the place.
I turn off my van and sit for a second with my eyes closed, sending out positive vibes and gratitude to the universe.
Despite the somewhat rough start to my day, I’veremained positive. Didn’t let Mr. Grump in a Suit turn me into someone negative or angry. And the universe rewarded me when, just minutes after I dropped off Bark Twain at the shelter, my phone pinged with a text from another volunteer asking if I was interested in a potential nanny job.
While nannying has never been a lifelong dream, my mantra kicked in before I could question it.
Say yes.
So that’s what I did.
I glance at the time. Two minutes early. Apparently punctuality is the one habit I’ve maintained from my old life, along with my ability to parallel park and an unhealthy fondness for pens in every color possible. And journals. And just office supplies in general.
I hop out of the van and head up the driveway, the crisp late autumn air chilly against my skin.
I climb onto the front porch and am about to ring the doorbell when I hear a wail, high-pitched and furious.
Definitely a toddler.
Then a man’s voice comes through. “Jemmy, you need to eat. No. Don’t throw that. What did I just say?”
It sounds like this guy has his hands full. It’s probably not the best time for a job interview, and I consider retreating.
Then again, chaos is part of being a nanny. If anything, this feels like a live audition.
I take a breath and ring the doorbell.
The tantrum continues uninterrupted.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
I start to wonder if the doorbell was swallowed by the noise when the door finally swings open.
And my breath catches.
