Page 5 of Falling for the Nanny
I couldn’t afford to live alone in Northern Virginia on satisfaction.
I listened to the violent whirr of Alyssa’s blender as it whipped strawberries, ice, and whey protein into what looked deceptively like a milkshake but tasted like chalk. I could feel the vibration in the table, and it put my teeth on edge.
“Why did you let me get a fine arts degree?” I demanded when she was done.
“Um, because you’re an adult who makes her own decisions, and I’m not your mom?” Alyssa poured the concoction into a tall glass, stuck a reusable straw in it, and joined me at the table. She had a frown on her face, like she’d finally figured out that her morning smoothie was disgusting. “How long have you worked at Tiny Tykes? Like forever?”
“I’ve worked at Little Tykes since our sophomore year of college,” I corrected. “Why?” I was curious because Alyssa didn’t ask random questions as a rule. She was physically incapable of making small talk. I was always the one who had to shoot the breeze with our regulars at the bar.
“My boss and his wife have a live-in nanny, and I don’t know for sure how much they pay her, but I feel like it’s more than that,” Alyssa pivoted the laptop to check it again and wrinkled her nose at my hourly wage. “Plus, she drives their car, and they pay for gas and her insurance. Plus, she lives with them.”
“Okay, but isn’t she at their beck and call basically 24/7?”
Alyssa shook her head. “No, she actually has a contract that outlines what her work hours are and when she’s off the clock, and if they try to make her work more than that, she can tell the agency and they pay a huge fine.”
I chewed on my lower lip, intrigued. If I got paid as much as I got paid at Little Tykes, but I didn’t have to pay rent, I could quit my bartending job and have a lot more time to write. And if I was driving their car, I could sell mine before it inevitably sputtered out on the side of Route 7. “This is interesting,” I said finally as Alyssa’s eyebrows climbed, waiting for me to respond.
“It’s really interesting,” she corrected. “I’ll ask my boss who he hired his nanny through.”
“Okay but even if I get a job like this, you can’t call me a nanny.” I shuddered. The word conjured up an image of an old woman with a hunched back and a white bonnet. “And you can’t let Parker call me a nanny either.”
“I’ll tell Parker you’re an au pair.”
“What’s the difference?”
Alyssa shrugged her shoulders, already texting her boss. “One is French?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just don’t tell Parker anything. Or tell him I’ve decided to be homeless in protest.”
Alyssa lowered her phone and gave me a look. “You’re not really going to be like this for the rest of the time we live together, are you?”
“The rest of the time we live together?” I repeat, raising my eyebrows. “I’m going to be like this for years, Lys. I’m going to be complaining about this when I give my maid-of-honor speech at your wedding.”
She laughed unwillingly, but her brows were still pulled together with concern. “Seriously. I want you and Parker to be friends.”
I was about to make another droll comment, but something in her voice stopped me. I thought Alyssa had accepted that we’d never be a trio, the way we’d been sometimes when one of us had a serious boyfriend and the other didn’t. She had always seemed content with the fact we got along fine without there ever being the promise of us growing close. Now, though, she looked worried. “I don’t know about friends,” I said carefully, “but we’re friendly. That’s good enough, right? I mean, it’s not like you’re going to marry the guy…are you?”
Alyssa gave me a look like I was being really dense. “Cat, I’m moving in with him.”
A funny leaden feeling took root in the pit of my stomach. “Right, but like, you two aren’t buying the condo together, are you?”
“No, but…” Alyssa tilted her glass so that the sludgy, flesh-colored remnants of her smoothie slid to one side. “I’m still moving in with him.”
“And if all goes well, I’m moving in with some random rich family who can’t take care of their own kids.” I threw my hands up in the air. “It’s not a lifetime commitment.”
An awkward silence buzzed between us. Alyssa was staring unhappily at her smoothie, and I was staring questioningly at her, and in the vacuum, the truth became too loud to ignore. “Oh my God.” I dropped my head back to the table. “You two are getting married. This is the trial run, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t call it a trial run,” she said stiffly. “It just makes sense to make sure we can live together before we get engaged.”
“Practical Parker,” I muttered into the table.
“I hate it when you call him that.”
I looked up, my forehead stinging a bit from where it smacked the wood composite. I wanted to ask Alyssa if she still thought Parker loved his stock portfolio more than her or how she could possibly commit to a lifetime of so-so sex, but I sensed that we were up against an immovable barrier. If I pushed her, she was going to push me away. “I’m sorry,” I said instead, my voice grudging.
Alyssa raised her eyes from her glass to skewer me with them. “For what, exactly?”
“Please don’t make me say it.”