Page 7 of 5+Us Makes Seven

“No problem, Nat. No problem at all.”

Three

Natasha

I woke up on Emma’s couch and stretched my limbs. The morning sun was pouring through her curtainless windows and it felt nice. It blanketed my body in a comfortable warmth as I turned and face-planted into the pillow on her couch.

Last night was the most restful night of sleep I’d had in over a year.

I lifted my head as the smell of coffee wafted through the studio apartment. I slid off the couch, stretching my arms toward the sky. I didn’t know what time it was, but I knew I had plenty of time to get ready. I had always been an early riser and I knew it couldn't be any later than seven thirty in the morning. I had gotten into a routine in Africa. Up as the sun came rising and asleep well after the sun sank below the horizon. I drew in a deep breath, relishing the smell of the stale coffee as I closed my eyes.

Wait… why did the coffee smell stale?

I rubbed my eyes and got up off the couch. I walked over to the little kitchenette in the corner and looked at the coffee pot. It was half full with a mug sitting off to the side with a note from Emma. She was wishing me luck in my interview and wanted me to call her the moment I could.

I turned off the coffee pot as my eyes ventured up to the microwave.

My stomach dropped as I clocked the time. Nine in the morning? That couldn’t be right. I ran over to my cell phone and

pulled it from my pants pocket, checking the time as my heart thundered in my ears.

It wasn’t nine in the morning.

It was nine thirty in the morning.

I ran into Emma’s shower and hopped in. I helped myself to her things, trying to clean myself up as best as I could. I ran around her apartment trying to find the towels, slipping and sliding all across her laminate floors. I wrapped the harsh towel around my body and ran to her closet, then cursed her for being such a small woman.

Why the hell did I have a best friend that was a size four?

I wouldn't be able to wear anything in her closet. Even at her biggest, Emma had only been an eight. I was a twelve on a good day, which meant I’d have to rush back to my apartment and get ready.

Which meant I would be late for my interview.

I hailed a cab and told them to step on it. I tore through the few clothes I had hanging up in my closet and cursed underneath my breath. Why the hell had I unloaded so much stuff before going to Africa?

Oh yeah. Because storage was a bitch in San Francisco.

I pulled out the only outfit that was decent enough to interview in. A pair of black pants, a pale green blouse, and a button-down women’s cardigan. I took a few extra minutes and ran a brush through my hair, then pulled it into a tight bun at the back of my head. I ripped my dried contacts out of my eyes and put my glasses on, then slid a bit of tinted lip gloss onto my lips to make me look more alive than I felt.

Not having coffee to start my day was going to make this interview difficult.

I raced across town and pulled into the parking garage with little time to spare. It was five past ten when I walked into my cousin’s building, and the building was massive. Tons of people were coming in and out and everything seemed very futuristic. The front desk attendant stopped me and asked me if I needed help, and I told them I was there for a nannying interview.

They led me to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, then wished me luck.

Why did they wish me luck?

Did I need it?

I clasped my hands behind my back as the elevator doors opened. I drew in a deep breath and stepped off the elevator, taking in my surroundings. The marbled floors were decadent, and all of the offices had glass doors. I could see right into every office, and each one of them had wonderful views of the ocean. I gawked as I walked through the expanse of the building. Was this where Logan worked? Did he have an office on this floor with such an incredible view? I felt pride fill my chest. My cousin had always dreamt big for himself.

And it seemed as if he had gotten it.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I was ripped from my trance by a soft voice as my eyes landed on a face. The woman had bright blue eyes and a kind smile with blonde hair that was shaped into a pixie cut. She beckoned me over and I followed, trying to move as fast as I could.

After all, I was late.