Page 57 of A Convenient Secret
“I think they are taking revenge for their names.” Having a whispered conversation is strange, but not in a bad way. It gives my frazzled, confused, upset mind the pause it needs.
“Also, Zach confessed today that he hates soccer, so I allowed him to skip the practice.”
Celeste rolls her eyes. “Let’s hope you won’t get caught, rebel nanny.”
We stifle our laugh, our shoulders shaking.
“But why would Declan force him to play if he doesn’t like it?” I ask.
“I don’t know him well enough, but Cal tells me Declan’s need for control is non-negotiable, and he is not very flexible. It might be because, as a single father, he has so much to juggle. I assume he signed up Zach for soccer, whatever the motivation, but making a change to his well-established schedule is hard, so he doesn’t question if said schedule makes sense.”
“Wow, for not knowing the guy, this is quite insightful.” Is Declan clinging to things the way they are because he fears that changing one piece would break the puzzle? “And if you’re right, it’s sad.”
“Believe me, until Amelie, I never realized a routine is such an important part of keeping sane.” She shrugs with a tired smile. “As a future—a very near future—nanny employer, I must advise you: don’t let the kids skip the schedule. Talk to Declan about it. He may not even know he’s forcing his son into something.”
I nod. “Have you met Declan? It’s not that easy to talk to him.”
“Oh please, you can handle it.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence.” I roll my eyes, slouching a bit.
“Hey, don’t be modest. When we accepted you into our fold, you were a disaster. You’re the only person I know that can burn iced coffee. Wherever you came from, you were shielded from basic survival skills, and yet you survived.”
I stare at my friend. I never realized she deduced so much from my guarded behavior. “Just because I’m shit in the kitchen—” I start protecting my cover.
“The point is, you can handle yourself in any situation. Talk to Declan about Zach. One thing my marriage taught me is that open communication is the key to a successful relationship.”
If she only knew how open Declan was this morning in the kitchen.
The housekeeper has a day off, so I return to the penthouse, ready to chill and collect my thoughts. It’s only when I step from the elevator that I recall Declan is working from home.
Shit. I almost spin around to leave when he saunters from the kitchen with a coffee mug. He glances at me and pauses.
Our gazes collide, and it’s almost like some strangetruce descends on us. Like we got tired of the dance and avoidance. Or maybe it’s just me.
“Kids delivered okay?” he asks.
I nod.
He opens his mouth. Is he going to talk about what happened in the kitchen? But then, to my relief and disappointment, he bows his head curtly and goes upstairs.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and slouch against the wall. A part of me wishes he didn’t tell me all those things this morning.
An equally persistent, darker part of me—I didn’t even know I have this side—is reveling in his brief loss of control. I did that to him. It’s a heady feeling.
But as I sit on the sofa, enjoying the view, the rational me comes through. He is right, this attraction has no chance of blossoming.
I work for him. My past is holding me back. His children need stability. He doesn’t want to pursue it, and I need to respect that. Even though I want to throw tantrums.
Declan doesn’t come downstairs for lunch. Thankfully. I put crackers and cheese on a small plate and decide to sit outside before I have to leave to pick up the kids.
I balance my water and the plate in one hand, jutting out my hip as I reach for the handle. Everythingtumbles to the ground when a shrill, piercing wail stabs my ears.
The silence shatters with unforgiving intensity. The high-pitched screech I prayed to never hear again reverberates off the walls, its urgent rhythmic blare demanding attention.
I freeze, paralyzed as the fear overtakes my body, along with the relentless sound drilling into my skull.
Chapter 12
