Page 129 of The Overtime Kiss

Christmas is around two weeks away. I don’t know if he expects me to work. We didn’t talk about this. It never even came up, and now I feel so unbearably stupid.

What kind of employee doesn’t ask their boss what the plans are for Christmas? Do I have the day off? The week off?What kind of boss doesn’t tell the employee if they have the day off?

My chest feels like concrete.

Is this what happens when you start sleeping with your boss? You just take all sorts of things for granted? My head throbs and I barely listen as Elle tells me the details.

When she’s gone I shut the door, feeling sick all over. I have no idea what to do next. And I definitely don’t know what I’m going to do in a couple weeks when I’m all alone out here in his house, and he’s in New York for the holidays.

I trudge into the kitchen, trying to get my bearings. I stare briefly at the living room. There’s no tree yet, but will he even do that? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just be alone in a tree-less house. I guess that’s fine too.

I hunt for a piece of fruit to munch on. A minute later, heavy footsteps echo on the stairs, and he rounds the corner, then appears. He’s wearing his slacks and nothing else, bleary-eyed as he scrubs a hand across his beard. He looks impossibly sexy, all messy morning hair and soft eyes. “I think I overslept,” he says, his voice rusty with sleep.

I can’t let it affect me though. I straighten my shoulders. “Yeah, I think you did.”

His gaze drifts to the duffel bags in the foyer. “Are the kids here?” He goes ramrod straight, pointing to the staircase toward his room. “I should?—”

I hold up a hand, waving that off. “They’re at school. Elle just dropped off the bags.” I swallow down my pride and add, “She said she called you, and she also said to tell you that she’s going to book a flight for the kids to join you in New York for Christmas.”

“Oh,” he says, then looks at me with perhaps a touch of guilt flashing in his eyes. “That’s helpful. I have them for Christmas.”

I take a beat, ignoring the hurt, since I have no right tofeel hurt.Skate on. “I guess that means I have the holiday off,” I say chipper and bright. Like a little fucking Christmas elf.

He freezes, his eyes flickering with embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. I guess so. I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of that before,” he says, sounding genuinely remorseful. But for what? For not telling me? “I should have said something sooner. I mean, Agatha used to take the holiday off every year.”

Right. Because I’m just like Agatha. His last nanny.

Of course you’re like Agatha. You have the same job.

In fact, I should act like the nanny, not like his girlfriend, who’s annoyingly hurt that she wasn’t invited for Christmas. Clearly, that ice-skating invitation last night was nothing more than a sleepy, offhand remark—not a real request. We’re not dating.

“It sounds great,” I say, laying on the holiday charm so thick. “I’m going to be hanging out with Trevyn for Christmas,” I say, improvising. “We made some plans. It’s like a Friendsgiving. Actually, like a Friendsmas. With Isla, and Skylar,” I say and I am babbling. It is like the Night of 1001 Confessions all over again, but it’s the Morning of a Million Holiday Lies. But maybe Trevyn is free. Maybe we’ll do karaoke. Or watch a movie. “I really appreciate the time off, so thank you.”

His brow knits, but he manages an awkward, “You’re welcome.” His gaze drifts over me, slow and deliberate, lingering just a second too long. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

And I didn’t think it was possible, but now I feel even worse. “Yes, it is. I grabbed it by mistake. Would you like it back?”

His lips part like he’s torn on what to say, but he eventually says, “No.”

And I have no idea if he feels guilty or if he’s trying to figure me out. “Don’t worry. Elle didn’t say anything,” I say crisply, trying to get out of this awkward conversation. I headtoward the stairs, abandoning the fruit pursuit too. “And I won’t wear it this afternoon when I take the kids to the science museum.”

He grabs my arm before I can go, his grip firm but hesitant. “That’s not what I meant, Sabrina.”

“What did you mean then?” I snap.

He lets go of my arm, looking…chastened. “It just threw me off. I didn’t mean to?—”

“Fall asleep in my room?”

He tilts his head. “No, that’s not what I was going to say.”

“So youdidmean to fall asleep in my room.” Holy shit. What am I doing? Am I giving my boss the third degree? I shake my head, embarrassed now too. “It’s all good. Let’s just move on,” I say, trying to erase this entire uncomfortable moment. “I should work on my skating lesson plans. And I have to do some prep for the science museum visit. You have community service with the team this afternoon—distributing compost bins in the neighborhood.” I’m reminding him of the schedule so he knows I’ve got my act together. And so he knows I’m well aware of my place. I’m not the girlfriend. I’m the nanny, and even if he didn’t tell me the holiday schedule, I still know the daily schedule and it’s my job to make sure everyone else does too. “Anyway, you should probably charge your phone. Elle only called me because you didn’t answer, and I was rushing to answer the door without waking you up. I guess your phone died.”

He grabs it from the pocket of his pants and looks at the technological carcass. “Fuck. The kids could have called. I need to be more responsible,” he says, and now he’s beating himself up.

This morning could not have gone any worse.

I pluck at the sweatshirt. “Me too. I should have been more careful about the sweatshirt.”

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