Page 16 of The Perfect Mistake

“They’re down that hall, to the left. Past the playroom. Check them out, and I’ll join you shortly.”

I nod. “Sounds good.”

Out in the living room, I can hear Sam singing a tune and Katja’s hushed voice. Cutlery scrapes against plates. Alec leaves without another word, and I’m left to wander down to my rooms. He spoke of plural. I peek into the playroom as I pass, and while it’s a normal-size bedroom, it’s a veritable treasure trove of toys. A makeshift teepee in the corner holds a pantheon of stuffed animals. Tiger, hippo, snake, horse. I continue on to find an ajar door at the end of the hall.

I push it open.

It’s like a one-bedroom apartment. An open-concept layout, sure, but it’s large enough to have a queen bed in the corner, a sofa in the middle, and a kitchenette on the other side. Not a shitty one, either. Here you can actually cook.

Two large windows overlooking the courtyard.

This is nothing like babysitting my neighbors’ kids for fifteen dollars an hour when I was seventeen. This is high-level, professional shit. I wonder if I’m the least experienced nanny Alec has ever hired and immediately regret the thought. I don’t even want to think about it. Maybe the others were teaching his kids foreign languages and how to express their emotions in a healthy manner, and provided weekly progress reports.

I sink onto the two-seater couch. The room is tasteful, beige, and beautiful. If other nannies have lived here, they haven’t left their mark. Maybe that’s what we’re meant to do. Flow in and out of the Connovan family unit without leaving a trace.

It takes Alec thirty minutes to join me. I hear his footsteps first, hard treads against the hardwood. The door opens and he’s silhouetted in the frame, his shape sharp against the light.

“Hi,” I say. “This is a beautiful room.”

He strides inside. “It’ll do?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“When can you move in?”

“Tomorrow?” I ask. The sooner I leave the Greystone, the better. There’s no shortage of dancers who want the apartment, and I don’t want a call from Moore.

“That works,” he says. His jaw looks tense, though, and he glances from me to the bed in the corner. Maybe he’s starting to rethink the whole thing. Who is she, really? Why did I hire her?

Maybe I should rise or offer him a seat beside me. But neither option seems right, not with him looking straight at me and giving not a single inch of ground.

He’s always been hard to read.

“I signed the contract,” I say instead. “I emailed your office, but I brought it today, too. Would you like a copy?”

“Keep it for your own records.” His mouth turns down in the faintest of frowns. “Your injury. It won’t be aggravated by this job?”

“It’ll be all right.”

“Handling kids isn’t exactly easy on the body,” he says.

I shake my head a bit too rapidly. “Trust me, it’s far easier than dancing on pointe for hours a day.”

A ghost of amusement flickers in his eyes. “Right. I shouldn’t underestimate you.”

“You can, if you’d like,” I say. “Just know that you’ll be proven wrong.”

“Consider me warned,” he says. Then, he clears his throat, and the flicker of amusement dies. “You’ll have your rooms to yourself. The kids know not to bother you when you’re in here, unless I’m away on business trips. At those times, they might come to you at night if they need anything. I try to be home as much as I can, but there are at least a few evenings and early mornings a week when I’m gone.”

“Of course. That makes sense.”

“My kids come first. Your job is to always make sure they’re taken care of and appropriately stimulated, and that they don’t fight. If you can’t do it, you will be let go, effective immediately. Doesn’t matter that you’re Connie’s friend.”

“I understand,” I say. “They’re your kids. Of course.”

“The common areas are—”

“Off-limits. I understand,” I say. “Trust me, I won’t be a bother.”

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