Page 2 of A Convenient Secret
It’s mostly correct. I don’t mind Aaron at all. He’s a great colleague. The problem is me. Or rather, my hermit ways.
Ever since I arrived in New York almost eighteen months ago, I’ve been looking over my shoulder. Like the past will catch up with me. It probably will, and I’m not ready to risk it.
Will I ever be?
“Even those friends of yours are probably made up,” Aaron deadpans and taps his headset. “Summit Solutions, Aaron speaking.” He dives back into his chair.
And now, I feel like shit. This is not the first time Aaron has voiced his opinion about my need to keep things private. As always, his words drop into my stomach like a lead ball.
I don’t want to be that girl. But I don’t have a choice.
Besides my three girlfriends, a group of women who accepted me, despite the odds, into their circle, Aaron is the only person who brings a bit of normal and a lot of fun into my life.
And yet I’m not ready for normal, or for ordinary. Ineed to stay on the down low. Until I learn to trust again. Until I find my footing, and my purpose.
In the meantime, I have to do what I have to do. Be small and invisible. Be someone else. It’s been eighteen months, and I’ve built a home here. A very fragile and not necessarily desired home.
But I have my friends and this work. Things that anchor me. For now.
My line blinks, and when I see the name, my heart rate spikes immediately, heat spreading across my face.
“Summit Solutions, Lily speaking. How may I help you today?” I smile. Not that he can see me, but I know a smile comes across in my voice.
“I need a sitter. Urgently. Full time,” he spits out without a greeting.
“Of course. Have your needs changed since last time?”
Poor man hired a nanny not even six weeks ago. I know this, and not only because it’s recorded in his file. I don’t need to open his file to remember everything about him. I helped him with the task last time, and four times before.
I wonder if his kids are next-level brats or if he’s an abusive employer. The turnover seems unreal. But perhaps the agency hasn’t matched him with the right fit. He should be demanding when it comes to his own kids.
He sighs, and the load of it carries through the line, spearing me. I inhale and straighten my spine, like I can possibly carry his burden. I can’t. And, more importantly, I shouldn’t want to.
“Same prerequisites,” he says.
Children’s laughter echoes in the background. He must be home. Of course he is. It’s a Saturday. Is he wearing a suit? Or what is his casual wear?
Stop it, Lily!
“I’ll have an agency send you suitable resumes—”
“I don’t have time for that,” he interrupts. “I need someone to start on Monday at seven sharp.”
“Understood.” I run my fingers over the keyboard to open his file. “I see you had a runner-up selected last time. I will try to get them to start on Monday.”
“Try isn’t good enough,” he snaps. “I need a nanny on Monday.”
I close my eyes briefly and try to embrace his frustration with a smile. “Of course. We’ll make sure a qualified nanny is at your house on Monday morning.”
“Good. Do a thorough reference check.”
“Daddy, Daddy—” a girl’s voice interrupts.
“It wasn’t my fault…” a boy cries.
“I need to go. Can I rely on you?” His voice is laced with something I haven’t heard before.
It’s not his usualdon’t-bother-meattitude; it’s thattired and resigned voice parents have when they’re at the end of their rope.
