Page 121 of Nine Week Nanny
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I blink them back. Not here. Not now.
"I'm going to find a picnic table for us to have lunch." I stand, smoothing my hands down my shorts. "We only have about thirty minutes before we should head to Seabreeze."
As I call the boys over, I try not to think about tomorrow morning, when I'll hand over Lennon's carefully crafted schedule to a stranger.
I drivewith the windows down, needing air, lots of it. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel as I pull into Pope's driveway for the last time. A black Lexus sits in the spot I usually park.
Eight on the dot. They're already here.
"Breathe," I whisper to myself. "Just get through this."
Vanessa Williams stands in the entryway, her iPad in hand, looking impeccable in her red pantsuit. Beside her is a woman in her forties with graying blonde hair pulled into a perfect twist.
"Sloane, this is Margaret Wheeler," Vanessa makes the introduction. "Twenty years of experience, specializing in high-profile clients with trauma backgrounds."
The woman extends her hand. Her grip is firm and professional. "It's nice to meet you."
I force a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "Likewise."
Lennon appears at the top of the stairs, still in his pajamas, his dark hair mussed from sleep. His eyes move from me to Margaret, confusion clouding his features.
"Who's that?" he asks, his voice small.
My heart cracks wide open. I climb the stairs and kneel before him, keeping my voice light. "This is Ms. Margaret. She's going to be hanging out with you. How cool is that?"
His brow furrows. "Will she hang out with you, too?"
I swallow hard. “Today, yes. But remember how I told you I'd be starting my new job soon? The one I went to school for? I have to go do that next week.”
Lennon's eyes fill with tears. "But not today. You didn't say today."
"I'm going to be here today with you. You're not getting rid of me that fast."
The next two hours blur together as I show Margaret everything in between our lessons. I give her Lennon's visual schedule, list out his favorite breakfast options, and email her the homeschool curriculum I designed with Angela.
I explain his sensory triggers, how he needs warning before transitions, and how he likes his sandwich cut into triangles, not squares.
Margaret nods, jotting it down. She’s professional and competent. And a complete stranger.
At Seabreeze, we make the drop-off together. Dr. Maya blinks in surprise when she sees us both. "Two nannies today?"
"Just today," I manage. "Margaret’s taking the reins from here, so I wanted to introduce her."
Lennon pipes up quickly, desperate. "Sloane knows about the horseshoe crabs. And she lets me hold the magnifying glass myself."
I force a smile, my throat tight. "I’m sure Ms. Margaret will learn all your favorite things, too."
When it’s time, I kneel in front of him. "I have to go now. Ms. Margaret will pick you up today."
His face crumples. "No." He flings his arms around my neck, clinging with everything he has. "I don’t want you to go. I want you."
The tears I’ve been holding back finally spill. I crush him to me, breathing in the salt of his hair. "I know, sweet boy. I know."
"Please don’t leave me," he sobs against my shoulder.
"This isn’t goodbye forever," I whisper, lying to us both.
THIRTY-TWO
