Page 38 of Primal God

Sorry. Been busy with the new job.

You’re forgiven, but only if you say you’ll meet up with me soon.

How soon?

I’m free now.

As much as I wish I could, I don’t have a free day until Sunday.

Sunday it is!

Shall I pick you up?

No, I’ll meet you.

Wait.

Where are we going?

It’s a surprise, so let’s just meet at the library at six.

Wear something nice!

See you on Sunday.

I’m smiling when I tuck my phone into my bag. When I look up, I find Diego watching me.

“My friend was texting. He wants to take me somewhere on Sunday.” I let out a small laugh. “I guess it’s a date of sorts. I can’t remember the last time I went on a date.”

I don’t know why I’m blabbing to Diego. He likely couldn’t care less that I haven’t been on a date.

I exhale softly. I really need to get out more.

“Anyway, it’s just nice to have someone that wants to spend time with me.”

He scowls, reminding me so much of his father. Goodness, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it seems.

“Not that I don’t like spending time with you, Clara, and Isadora,” I quickly add. “In fact, the three of you are like my best friends.”

He smiles, as if this pleases him, and I decide to take my win while I can, changing the subject.

“I have a project when we get home. Will you help me?”

He looks at me, dark eyebrow lifted. Guess he wants more information before agreeing.

I bite back a laugh and continue, “I bought a rack for our shoes.”

God knows I’ve tripped over their shoes a million times in the past few weeks. They kick them off wherever they see fit, not caring that an innocent nanny might trip on them in the middle of the night. The first time it happened, I shrugged it off. But last night made the third time, which is why I jumped online and found a rack to put by the front door. It might not work, but it’s worth a shot.

Diego nods, and I smile.

“Thank you. When we’re finished, we’ll have to see if Chef will let us make some cookies.”

While Clara can’t stand still long enough to bake, Diego has joined me in the kitchen a few times to help me make desserts. Luckily, the chef has turned out to be a big teddy bear and doesn’t mind when we crash his space. As long as I clean up afterward, of course. I make a mental note to find out what desserts he likes. It’s the least I can do, really.

An hour later, Clara’s ballet class is over and she rushes out with even more energy than before.

“Nanny W! I got invited to a sleepover!” She all but screams as she waves a pink envelope in the air.

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