Always Wrong - Xyla Turner Page 0,62

good evening.” She sounded relieved. “I wanted to offer you the job because I think you’ll be the best fit for Casey. He liked you, of course, and we do too.”

I almost wanted to counter her argument but then remembered the man was not ever around, so I would have very little interaction with him anyway.

“Great,” I replied. “So what time should I report tomorrow?”

“Six-thirty would be ideal because Casey will need his breakfast and lunch made for school. He needs to be dropped off, picked up, etc. However, I’ll need to go over some things with you beforehand, so six-thirty is the start time,” she concluded.

“Sounds good, Mrs. Vega,” I answered. “I’ll see you all tomorrow morning then.”

“Great.” She sighed. “I’m glad to have you aboard, Team Vega.”

I smiled and said, “Happy to be here, ma’am.”

Hmm.

I looked around the apartment, then at the time, and jumped up to get in the shower and prepare for the big first day of being a real-life nanny. It was not easy work, and it required someone to be on their toes at all times. It was more than just the client; some outside factors also made the job harder. A position that required you to look after a person or an entire family was not for the faint of heart. Sometimes, I wondered if people really knew what it took to run a household.

When I knocked on the door at six-fifteen, Mrs. Vega answered with a huge smile.

“Early,” she commented. “I like that.”

I smiled but didn’t comment and thought my mother’s words were never truer. If you’re on time, you’re late. So I always planned to be at my destination fifteen minutes early. This gave room for train delays, which often happened in New York, and human issues like emergency bathroom use. That’s happened to me often enough too, especially when I’m nervous.

“Thank you again,” she said as she led me upstairs again, “for coming on such short notice. Casey is expecting you as he can’t wait to tell you he almost made it to world 5.”

I laughed and followed her into the kitchen, where she sat down, just like the day before. On the table was a thick folder that she opened and said, “This is everything about Casey, and I want to make sure that you are well prepared.”

The woman was acting like she was leaving for good. As soon as that thought came, Mr. Vega, the asshole himself, walked into the kitchen in a tailored suit, looking like a million dollars with a haircut to match. Maybe it was styled today.

“Sweetheart, I’m leaving.” His eyes landed on his wife before he looked at me. “Ms. Jacobs, good to see you again.”

“Mr. Vega,” I greeted and turned my eyes back to the folder on the table as if it would speak to me instead of him.

The woman stood from her chair, greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, and said, “Okay, Logan. Have a safe trip, and I’ll talk to you tonight. Just got to get Faith set up here.”

He looked into her eyes as if they were talking without words, and she smiled and kissed him again—but this time, it was on the lips.

“Have a safe trip.” She smiled. “Did you say bye to Casey?”

“Course,” he replied. “He’s working on getting to world 5. Good luck getting him to do his homework.”

I didn’t even look up to acknowledge the dig he was throwing my way because he could kick boulders with sandals on for all I cared.

“Ms. Jacobs,” he called as he left the kitchen.

“Mr. Vega,” I called back.

His wife must have picked up the terse tones between the two of us because she smiled at me and said, “He’s really a good guy. He’s under a lot of pressure, but I can’t apologize enough as to why he said that yesterday.”

“It’s old news,” I commented so that she would drop it.

“It’s not, but I’ll let it go.” She nodded. “As a fellow artist myself, I know it’s not just old but alive and well. Keep pushing for your dream. That’s all I’ll say about it. Let nobody—and I mean nobody—keep you from doing what you love.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I nodded.

“You only get one life, Faith,” she murmured, then opened the folder and began to walk through all that was Casey—from his favorite foods to his immunization records, birth certificate, social security card, doctors, allergies, teachers, and neighbors with kids. She kept meticulous records for her son, which was