Page 5 of Lucky Strike

“What doyouwant?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes I really miss him.”

I guess we all have our weaknesses, even someone as strong and focused as Maeve. “You can always visit each other, though, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what we’ve been doing, but …” She shrugs. “Long distance is hard.”

“It is, but you’ve worked for this forever. I think you owe it to yourself to stay,” I say. “That said, you know I love you and support you no matter what.”

“Thanks, Bri.” She smiles gratefully, squeezing my hand. “Honestly, I’m leaning toward staying, too. For now, anyway. I feel like I’m doing what I was made to do.”

“You really are.” I clink my glass to hers. “I’m so proud of you! I can’t wait to be living the dream.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself … you’ve had to pay your own way.”

“Don’t remind me.” I take a long, fortifying slug of Shiraz.

“I’m serious. Don’t give up on your dream, Bria. I know how much you love analyzing people,” she teases.

My dream is to be a forensic psychologist, and that means grad school. But right after graduating from Columbia, a family I’d nanniedfor offered me a full-time position while their kids wrapped up elementary. It was close to home, my brain got a much-needed break from school, and the pay was great. I was able to help Ma with Grammy and pay my own bills, even the student loans that started six months after graduation.

The problem with taking a break, though, is that it’s difficult to start up again. Now, two years later, I’m no closer to grad school than I was before. Maybe even further.

“What’s going on, exactly?” asks Maeve. “Break it down for me.”

“I’m living off of my credit cards, basically.” I laugh weakly, because it’s either that or cry. “Ma doesn’t know, because I always send money to help with Grammy. I have zero savings.”

Maeve winces.

“And I’m up to my ears in student loans. I was going to enroll in online classes that first year but ...” I sag into my chair, deflating like a balloon at the end of a party. Adulting is exhausting.

“Shit, and now your new job?—”

“Doesn’t exist,” I finish. “Losing that was just the cherry on my crap sundae.”

My new job—the only reason I’m even in Boston right now—was another au pair position. I was supposed to start Monday, but the agency called yesterday to inform me that the Burchard family had decided at the last minute to relocate to Madrid for Mr. Burchard’s job. They’d let me know when another position became available, thanks. I took one look around my shitty short-term rental, panicked, and called Maeve.

So, here we are. Commiserating instead of celebrating. Her bright green eyes dim as she tops off my wine glass. “Yeah, they suck for that.”

“That’s what I get for going through a shady agency I knew nothing about,” I lament. “I don’t want to go back to New York yet, but I might have to.”

“Well, maybe not,” Maeve says slowly.

“Why, you got something?”

“I know someone, a single dad.” She stares at her glass, a small smile on her face. “Great guy. His parents have been helping with the kid, but now they can’t. So, he needs help. Like, full-time, live-in help.”

“Okay,” I say cautiously, a small spark of hope lighting in my chest. “That sound promising, right?”

“I think so. They’re really private people, which is why they haven’t gone through an agency. But when you called and told me what happened, I felt like maybe this was all meant to be,” she says.

Despite my hesitation, I want to believe that good things still happen. Yes, the past year’s been tough, probably the hardest of my life, but that’s exactly why I should jump on this opportunity. I need toget paid.

“I wouldn’t be telling you about this if I didn’t think you’d be a good fit,” she says. “I’ve known this family my whole life.”

“How old is the kid?”

A fond smile dimples her cheek. “Four.”

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