Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“She was, but she got a new audition. It’s for a soap opera.”
“Does she know that she’s missed over a year of your life?”
“You’re embellishing things.” She smiled. “She’s come here to visit me plenty of times.”
Yet, she still leaves you here.
“I’ll be on the roof.” She disappeared.
Not wanting to give the agency a chance to ask for my thoughts on Harlow, I called them first.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Dawson!” the advisor answered. “Excited to tell me you’ve found your match?”
“No. I don’t want Miss Hawthorne anywhere near my house again.”
“Was she that terrible?”
“She’s the worst one you’ve sent so far.”
“I am beyond sorry, Mr. Dawson,” she said. “If it’s any consolation, the next potential nanny is the complete opposite.”
“How so?”
“Well, she’s seventy-nine years old and she’s a former kindergarten teacher. There’s only one thing that may give you a slight pause in hiring her, though.”
“What is it?”
“She can only see out of one eye.”
“She sounds absolutely perfect,” I said. “Send her over.”
FIVE
PIERCE
You left out the part where she insisted on letting all 14 of her cats “live in,” too. That’s not happening. Ever.
Sorry. Sending over the next applicant ASAP.
The woman sitting across from me was CPR certified, fluent in French, Portuguese, Russian, and Spanish. Best part, she reminded me of Mama Raya—down to her soft grey eyes and purple tinged hair, so there was absolutely zero attraction.
She’d passed the diaper challenge with flying colors, and unlike Miss Hawthorne, I felt comfortable giving her a tour of my entire home.
“Why should I hire you for this job, Miss Hanson?” I asked.
“Because I absolutely love kids,” she said. “They’re who I was born to work with, and I believe that they’ll love me after a single playdate.”
“How do you feel about extensive travel?”
“As long as it’s covered and not taken out of my paycheck, that’s fine.”
Decent enough answer. “Before I move to the next part, do you have any questions?”
“More like some requirements I need you to meet for me.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I was convinced I’d misheard her.
“Being a full-time nanny comes with a lot of work,” she said, “and I believe that the parent should have to work with me as well.”
“Go on…”
“First, I need you to give me the okay for my discipline methods.” She wagged a finger. “I believe in letting babies cry for a full five minutes before attending to them. It teaches them that the world is cold, and they can’t always get what they want. It’s better that they learn that now, better than later, you know?”
“I thought you said, you loved children.”
“Second, I’ll need a designated five hour window to unwind with a glass of wine and a book, undisturbed.” She looked dead-ass serious. “This window will provide you with some bonding time, and allows me to recharge my energy.”
“Third, I’m not a fan of washing bottles or handling stains, so I’ll need to speak with your housekeepers on ways they can handle that for me.”
I said nothing.
The agency had somehow let a lunatic slip through the cracks, and I’d almost made the mistake of hiring her.
“Now, those are just the main requirements,” she said. “After you agree to those, you’ll need to hear me out on my supplementary demands.”
“Go ahead and tell me those now.” I took out my phone.
“Oh my god, really? I’m so happy we’re on the same page already!” She pulled a notebook from her purse. “There are only five pages, but I’ll do my best to go through them as quickly as possible.”
Send over the next nanny option.
And please have someone from your agency get this one out of my sight before my security team does.
SIX
HARLOW
Six Days Later
“You have to stop checking your phone every five seconds, Harlow.” Sasha snatched it from my hand and plopped onto a bean bag.
“I’m still holding out on hope for a callback from Mr. Nameless,” I said. “I promise I’ll search for a cooking job next.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay, but you promised.” She tossed it back to me. “If it makes you feel any better, rich people think everyone else is on their time,” she said. “A man like that probably has a hundred other potential applicants to get through. People with real nanny experience.”
“Thank you for letting me live in fantasyland for a while,” I said. “Please tell me your week is going better than mine.”
“It’s far worse.” She shook her head.
“How so?”
“Two huge book bloggers gave me a three-point-five star review ahead of my next release.” She looked like she was about to cry. “And guess what they both did to add salt to the wound?”
“They didn’t round up?”
“Exactly!” She shrieked. “Shade that goddamn fourth star in! Round up, not down, and protect an author’s mental health! It’s the least that they can do!”
I glanced at the oven’s timer, so she wouldn’t see me roll my eyes.