Page 128 of The Nanny Goal

We don’t speak for a long time.

“I’m not handling this well,” I finally admit. “I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I was looking at vacation rentals in Switzerland last week.” My voice is rough.

She doesn’t say anything, but her shoulders go tight. I press on.

“I never want you to think I don’t support your dreams. I do. I would do anything I can to help you get there.” I swallow hard. “So if you need to go to New York, you go. I’m not going to stop you.” My pulse is so loud in my ear, I can barely hear my own voice. “But I don’t like being blindsided by it.”

Her voice is small. “I just found out yesterday.”

I look over at her.

“And then you came home, and…it felt really good. I missed you a lot.” She exhales shakily. “I knew I needed to talk to you, and I meant to, but then I just… I just wanted to be with you. It wasn’t like a parting gift.”

“That was a shitty thing for me to say. I’m sorry.” I reach for her hand.

But she pulls her fingers into the sleeves of her sweatshirt and shakes her head.

“Emery…”

“No, I just…” She makes a face that looks like she’s trying hard not to cry. “I can’t.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

I close my eyes and nod. She needs some space.

She goes to stand up.

“Wait,” I say, knowing there’s something else I need to tell her, soshe’snot the one blindsided. “When I was looking at those rentals… It was on the plane. It turned into a group discussion. I swore them to secrecy, but…at some point, your brothers are probably going to find out that I’m in love with you.”

She laughs weakly. “Great. Cool. All right. I’m going to bed.”

Let me…

But she’s heading for the stairs.

This really isn’t how I thought a day where I told her that I loved her twice would end.

* * *

Her door stays firmly shut for the rest of the night.

In the morning, I listen for any movement at the other end of the hall. My bedroom door is open, but she doesn’t appear. That would be asking too much.

When I finally hear her door open, I leap out of bed, and make it to the doorway just in time to see her step into the bathroom, her hair sleep-tousled and her clothes rumpled.

So fucking squeezable.

Did she sleep like shit, too?

She doesn’t glance my way.

She doesn’t close the door, either, so I have a direct view of her from the side as she runs the sink, fills a glass with water, takes her pills off the shelf, and pops one into her mouth.

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