Page 34 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“Okay.” She doesn’t believe me—I can hear it in her voice—but I know she’s not going to question me any further. “Sent.”

“I’ll call you back.”

I hang up before she can say anything else.

Reaching into the briefcase I have sitting on the passenger seat, I pull out the tablet I keep stashed in there.

I open the email, waiting and waiting for it to download.

When I read the name on my phone, I didn’t connect Doris and Dory right away, but the name Doris felt familiar to me.

Then it hit me.

Last year when I decided I’d be moving out here, Wren’s best friend Drew told me about the woman who babysat her son. I remember thinking it was weird a nineteen-year-old girl was named Doris. That name is reserved for old ladies in bingo halls, not teenagers.

Drew gave me her information and I passed it on to Mel, not thinking about her again because I knew I wouldn’t even need someone until the following summer. Who knew if she would even still be around.

It didn’t cross my mind that Dory could bethatDoris.

Her resume loads, and I gulp, sliding my finger over the screen.

Doris Lorraine Palmer. Born…

Her birth year written out in front of me makes me pause. She didn’t lie last night. Nothing we did was illegal. But on the other hand, she’s not even of legal drinking age yet. I don’t think I’ve ever been with someone I couldn’t buy a drink for.

Yet another thump.

“Shit.”

I mutter a whole string of curse words as I scour her resume.

If I’m being blunt, it’s pitiful.

She didn’t graduate high school but did receive her GED a year after dropping out. She’s been attending a community college for the last two years, and she’s currently working…

“One, two—threejobs?” I sigh. “Holy shit.”

Based on what’s in front of me, she must be busy every day of the week. There’s no way she’s not, which means her having last night off was a fluke.

Thank god for flukes.

Guilt racks me.

I shouldn’t be thankful for the fluke. It ruined her chance of getting this job, and we both know it. There is no possible way I could hire her now. We crossed the line you don’t cross, especially not with your child’s nanny.

But looking at her resume hurts my heart.

I’m not stupid. I see the way she looks at me. She thinks I’m pegs above her. Which, sure, economically I am…right now. I haven’t always been up this high, though.

In fact, Dory and I have much more in common than she realizes.

I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I scraped and clawed my way to the top, and I’ll be damned if I feel bad about doing so.

What I do feel bad about is stripping away the opportunity for someone else to have that same chance.

Maybe I don’t have to, though. We’re both adults. We can come to some sort of agreement about her taking the job and not let our past cloud that. We can be professional.

After all, last night was just a one-time thing. We already promised not to repeat it.

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