Page 49 of The Perfect Mistake

I lean back on the couch and close my eyes. The soft chatter on the TV in the background is my only companion, like it so often is when the kids are asleep. Being a nanny to families like this doesn’t seem to come with a lot of unrestricted time. Alec attempts to limit late nights and out-of-town trips, but they’re still a weekly occurrence.

There’s a click in the door, and all my thoughts grind to a halt. I run a hand through my hair and listen to the sounds of Alec in the entryway, shrugging off a jacket and putting something down on the hardwood floor.

A few seconds later he walks into the living room. He looks tired, and his hair is darker than usual. He must have gotten caught in the rain that’s now coming down outside.

He stops. Glances at me.

“Hi,” I say. A bit awkwardly, and a bit hesitant.

He nods hello and reaches up to undo his tie. “Hey. I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“I shouldn’t be,” I say. That’s the truth. What I say next isn’t. “But I got to the really good part.”

His gaze flickers from me to the TV and then back again. “Right,” he says. He drapes his tie over the back of an armchair and gets working on his sleeves, rolling them up with methodical precision. “And what idiotic town event are they having tonight?”

“None, actually,” I say. “She’s going off to college. The daughter. Rory.”

He nods and walks across the open-concept room to the kitchen area. I hear as he grabs something to drink. There’s restlessness in him that I recognize from a few weeks ago when he’d returned just like this. Only the hour is later now, and the weather is moodier, and he feels raw somehow. Less in control.

He sinks onto the couch next to me with a heavy sigh. Close, too. Our thighs almost touch. There’s a glass of ice water in his right hand.

I watch as he runs his free hand over his face. “Long night?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. “The worst. We had suppliers in town from Japan for a new deal we’re brokering. Would give us access to the Japanese market in a way we haven’t had before. After an all-day meeting, we went out to dinner.”

“Oh. How do these kind of dinners usually go?”

“Well,” he says and kicks his long legs out, “it starts at a private booth in a Michelin-stared restaurant. We quibble over the check, but naturally, Contron picks it up. The wine flows. The talk isn’t quite as smooth, but it’s getting there. Everyone gets to know one another. Testing the waters, basically.”

“You were just on a date, then,” I say.

He huffs out a chuckle. “Yeah. And at the end of dinner, the Japanese investor said it was their turn to choose the next place to go. So, we went to a rooftop sake bar.”

“Oh no,” I murmur.

“Yeah.” He takes a long pull of his iced water. “And I was ready to head home after dinner.”

“Did you seal the deal, at least?” I ask. “Think you’re getting a second date?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “If I want it, I always get a second date.”

Oh. Something tightens in the pit of my stomach.

“Aren’t you awfully confident?” I ask.

“Just realistic,” he says. His thick hair is starting to dry. It’s usually neatly brushed back, but now it’s turning just a bit unruly.

“The annoying part is that you’re probably right,” I say. “I noticed how all the parents looked at you the other night. All of them, and it wasn’t just the single women who were interested.”

He breathes out a sigh. “Right. Didn’t want you to notice that.”

“No?” I pull my legs up beneath me and turn to face him on the couch, my arm draping along the back. “And why not?”

He takes another long drink of his water, and I’m not certain if he’ll answer me. While some walls might be down tonight, I doubt all of them are.

“You’ve never looked at me like that,” he says. “Didn’t want you to start.”

I smile. “Well, I don’t throw a lot of dinner parties,” I say. “You’re safe from me. I won’t use you for clout or social climbing.”

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