Page 84 of Nine Week Nanny
The conversation shifts to her work drama, but I'm barely listening, relieved to be off the hook. When we finally hang up, I sit in the parked car, staring at nothing.
I couldn't wait to end that call. The friend who's been there through everything with me the last two years, my only real connection to my old life, my rock during several meltdownsduring exams and career disappointments, and I just lied by omission because I couldn't bear to hear her disappointment.
Because deep down, I know she's right. This thing with Pope is a mistake that's going to blow up spectacularly.
And I have absolutely no intention of stopping it before it does.
TWENTY-TWO
Pope
The clock's digits glow like accusations: 3:47 AM.
I lie awake, heart pounding behind my ribs, while Sloane sleeps against me. Her thigh drapes over mine, skin warm and soft. The faint salt-sweet scent of her hair teases my nose with every shallow breath I take.
I want to pull her closer. My body certainly agrees. I'm as hard as steel just having her next to me. But my chest feels like it's being crushed under concrete.
Today. Chris. The evaluation. Forty-two fucking nurses walking out.
My empire and my brother, both slipping through my fingers on the same day.
Sloane shifts in her sleep, her breast pressing against my arm. Her face is peaceful, untroubled by the storm brewing inside me. Just under seven hours from now, I'll be sitting across from the man who taught me exactly how worthless I was before I could tie my own shoes.
My throat tightens. I can't lie here any longer.
I slide carefully from beneath her leg, the cool air raising goosebumps across my bare skin. Her hand reaches out reflexively before settling back on the warm spot I've left behind.
The bathroom tile is cold under my feet. I twist the shower knob, not bothering with heat. The shock of cold water hits my shoulders like tiny needles, punishment for letting myself get distracted.
I stand there, letting the water beat down until my erection subsides and my skin prickles with cold. Until I can think clearly again.
When I step out, towel around my waist, I look forward to crawling back in bed with her.
"Fuck," I mutter, staring at the empty bed and rumpled sheets. She's gone back to her room, and I've missed my chance to feel her skin against mine, to explain why I'm wound so tight this morning.
I dress quickly in the room, with only ambient light from my closet and the open door to the bathroom. I put on my suit pants, a crisp white button-down, and my watch. I hang a tie from my neck and put my jacket on the suit stand.
Outside my door, I pause at Lennon's room, cracking it open just enough to see his small form curled under the rocket ship comforter, one arm thrown over his stuffed dinosaur.
A faint sound draws my attention down the hall. I follow it to Sloane's door, slightly ajar, with a thin line of light spilling onto the carpet.
My knuckles brush against the wood with the lightest touch, barely making a sound. Still, the door swings open wider, and she stands there, wrapped in a thin white robe, her hair dark and wet from a shower.
Something inside me unwinds at the sight of her. The tension that's been crushing me loosens its grip instantly.
"Hey," I whisper.
Without thinking, I reach for her, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her to me. Her lips meet mine, soft and yielding. The kiss is gentle, comforting, exactly what I need to give me the strength for today. This feels like coming home.
Sloane pulls back first, her eyes darting toward Lennon's room. "Be careful. Lennon could get up any minute," she says as she playfully presses on my chest.
"I know. I just..." I brush my thumb along her jawline. "I couldn't start my day without this."
She smiles, and even in the dim light, I can see the blush spreading across her freckled cheeks.
"Sorry if I woke you. Couldn't sleep, thought a cold shower might help."
A soft laugh escapes her. "I've never heard of a cold shower putting anyone to sleep."
