Page 11 of A Convenient Secret
I’m suddenly double-aware of my sweaty, disheveled appearance.
“Oh, it’s Lily, isn’t it? Did Declan call you as well?” She narrows her eyebrows. “Come on in.” She smiles at me.
I follow her around the sofas and the dining table into a large kitchen. While it’s kind of separated with two smartly positioned walls, it’s really a hidden part of the same open room. The spectacular view through the wall of windows is the dominant feature here as well.
“The mix-up with the nanny got him in a mood.” She sighs. “Coffee?”
I can’t imagine when her son isn’t in a mood. I stop by the square kitchen island. “No, thank you, Mrs. Quinn.” God, I need caffeine, but let’s get the ugly over with first. “The mix-up is unfortunate. I’m the replacement nanny.” My words come out in one rushed breath as I shrug.
She jerks her head and then smiles. “Oh, that’s great. I’m sorry I never asked you what you do. This isfantastic. So much better than a stranger. And call me Dorothy.”
I smile and hold my tongue, trying to limit how far my lie will stretch. Am I really becoming Declan’s nanny?
No.
I will find someone by the end of the day, and then explain everything.
“Lily, awe we going to the sheltew with Auntie?” Zoya runs into the kitchen from behind the corner, her huge eyes full of excitement.
“Not right now, Zoya.” I try to pretend I’m capable of this responsibility. “We need to get you to school.” The confidence in my voice is at odds with my fingers rapidly tapping on the sides of my thighs.
“I don’t want to go to school.” Zoya pouts.
“Sweetheart, go get your backpack and your brother. We’re running late as it is.” Dorothy leans down and kisses the girl’s head. Zoya opens her mouth, but her granny swats her bum gently. “Off you go. No arguments.”
The little girl huffs but skips away.
“Declan is on a call. It’s been a crazy morning, as you can imagine, but I cleared my calendar and got here shortly before you. We’ll take the kids to school together, and then you can pick them up this afternoon.”
“I hope your lateness is an exception.” The velvety baritone wraps around me with its usual charm.
Its solace disappears as soon as I glimpse the owner. Declan walks into the kitchen, wearing a navy suit that hugs him like a second skin. He kisses his mother’s cheek. “Thank you for coming to help. Again.”
He’s fidgeting with his cufflinks. His mom turns his hand and helps him to clasp them on. He hasn’t looked at me yet. He still doesn’t know I’m here. Or that I’m not a qualified nanny. Or that I exist.
His brief gaze at Saturday’s party flashes through my memory. That wasn’t attention; that was just a reaction to my clumsiness. I’m sure he doesn’t even know my name.
If I’m lucky, my presence here today will go unnoticed, or at least unconnected to our friend’s circle.
Though Dorothy may burst that sliver of hope.
He walks to the counter and puts a capsule into his Nespresso machine. “You’ve met my mother. She will show you the ropes with the school run. The housekeeper comes at eleven and will fill you in on the rest.” He picks up his small cup and downs the coffee. “I’ll be home by seven today, and we can talk then. Make sure—”
Our eyes meet. I swallow.
“I better go check on the kids.” Dorothy leaves the kitchen.
Declan stands, the skyline of Manhattan behind him. It looks all bright and beautiful in contrast to his frown.
Frown?
It’s not his typical scowl aimed at repelling people. It’s something between shock and curiosity. Like he’s trying to remember something.
Yep, we met before.
He holds the small, black cup in one hand and draws circles around the rim with his finger. The motion is painfully slow. It’s not a mindless fidgeting; it’s a deliberate move. Like I do when I think.
The few feet of the tiled floor stretch between us. The kitchen is spacious, but under his gaze I feel trapped. Like his eyes could make me smaller and more insignificant, so I straighten my spine and lift my chin.
