Page 65 of The Layover

Our nanny nodded. “I’m positive.”

The girls cheered, and dragged Ariana with them as Eloise pulled Harmony to her favorite hiding spot under the altar.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry,” Daria said.

I gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s not a problem.”

“Here.” Raul scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Adam. “When you need a break from being tourists for an hour or two, classic movies, video games, and wine. Tell them I sent you.”

“Sweet.” Adam tucked the information away.

After a few more minutes of exchanged instructions with Daria, we pushed them out the door.

When they were gone, Carly tossed a glance at where the girls were playing happily. “I’m sorry about that. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I’m positive.” I had a hard time denying my little girl anything, and if that included a new friend who kept Carly closer… Yes, I was going to take advantage of that.

We got back to work, but either Raul or I kept an eye on Eloise at all times. If Isabella was willing to go to the house while we were gone, and we had no idea why she was really here, I couldn’t rule out her walking right up to Eloise while no one was looking.

And if Isabella so much as touched a hair on Eloise’s head… I didn’t know what I was prepared to do, but we’d find out fast if it came to that.

23

Carly

So this was forty-two. The woman staring back at me in the mirror didn’t look any older than yesterday, but my brain had been hung-up on my new age all day. Turning forty didn’t hit me this hard, why was today different from the last two birthdays?

My phone sat on the bathroom counter, and it buzzed with a new text. Another message from Curtis. The fifth or sixth today. None of them said things like Happy Birthday or I got your message, they all just said I need you to call me.

Manipulative fucker. He knew the vague notes would drive me nuts, and I was going to ignore him until he provided at least a hint of context for his request.

Daria stopped in the doorway of the cabin’s master bath and looked me over. “I hope I look that good at your age.” Her tone was playful.

“You’re not even two years younger.”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Well don’t.” Maybe I shouldn’t have ribbed her so hard on her fortieth birthday.

She stepped into the room with me and straightened one of the straps on my dress, before looking me over again. “Your guys would agree with me, but they’d be nicer about it. You look incredible.”

“They’re not my guys.” I glanced in the mirror again. The dress was meant to be casual—sleeveless with a short sweater over the top, and a flowing skirt. I didn’t look bad, so why did I feel like an imposter?

“They never stop watching you when you’re in the room with them,” Daria said. “And the way they do that watching… They’re your guys.”

But they weren’t. Because they were my clients, and they lived in a different country than I did, and they were almost a decade younger than me.

And there it was. I was faking so much right now, including that I was young and carefree. “They’re not.” I put enough force in my retort to let Daria know that conversation was over. We should go back to when I thought she was judging me for being with them. That was more like what I thought I should be feeling.

She pursed her lips and studied me. “You don’t get to be grumpy just because the last number on your age changed between yesterday and today.”

I opened my mouth.

Daria held up a finger. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re older than me, because you know better.” She spoke forcefully. “You are going to have fun tonight, missy. Whether you like it or not.”

“How am I supposed to argue with that?” And why did it make me feel better?

“You’re not.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me out of the bathroom. “Stop fussing, you look gorgeous and we’re not going to be late.”

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