spoke and the light caught her profile. She was crying.
Concern almost had him pulling her into his arms before he reminded himself to stay where he was and communicate through his words.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Oh, you know. The usual. My past caught up with me and slapped me really hard.” She touched her cheek. “In this case, literally.”
He couldn’t figure out what she was saying. “Someone hit you?”
She looked away. “I’m fine, Declan. Or I will be.”
Now he could hear the tears in her voice, the thickness of the pain, whatever it was.
“What happened? Tell me. Or tell me to go away and I’ll leave you alone. Sunshine, I want to help but I don’t know what to do.”
She drew in a breath. “You really don’t want to know. Trust me. I’m not who you think. I’m a terrible person. You should fire me. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s true. I can’t be trusted with anyone’s kids.”
“Now you’re not making sense.”
She looked at him. “Do you remember when you interviewed me and asked about my references? How everyone said I was the best nanny ever, if only you could get me to stay?”
He nodded, not sure what this had to do with whatever was bothering her.
“That’s not the half of it. That in no way describes what I’ve done.” She pulled herself forward on the chaise, so she was sitting facing him, their knees nearly touching.
“I’m good with kids,” she said, staring at her lap, her hair hanging down, shielding her face. “Really good. Probably because I like hanging out with them. I enjoy their company and being involved with their lives. When you’re a nanny, that’s the job description—to get involved. Most contracts are for a year and everyone knows that. But telling a kid you’ll be gone in a year doesn’t mean anything to them. When you’re five or eight or ten, a year is a lifetime. It’s a faraway place and it’s not today so it doesn’t matter.”
She brushed away tears. “There are ways to handle leaving. You start having the conversation about a month before. You get them ready. You deal with the acting up, the crying, the begging. Or so I’ve been told. Because I’ve never done it. I’ve never left the way you’re supposed to.”
She looked at him, her expression stark. “I leave. That’s what I do, Declan. What I’ve always done. I meet some guy and decide he’s the one and take off, usually with nothing more than a quick note or a phone call. My grandmother left my mother. My mother left us. And I leave them.”
She turned away. “It’s the worst part of me. It’s the dark ugly side everyone wants to keep hidden, but it’s right there for all to see. It’s in my personnel file, for God’s sake.”
He tried to make sense of everything she was saying. He heard the words but couldn’t reconcile them with the woman he knew. “What happened today?”
“I went to Santa Monica. There’s a breakfast place I know—it’s a silly little coffee shop, but I always loved it. I used to live with a family nearby. They had twin girls. They were only seven and so adorable. Elle, their mother, is a lawyer who does a lot of international work. Their father’s in banking. They were this power couple who were never home and had little or nothing to do with their kids.”
She looked at him. “That makes it worse, you know. The parents who aren’t involved, because then I’m all the kids have. I’d never experienced it before, until the twins. They were so lonely and sad and they bonded with me instantly. I stayed for nearly eight months and then I met a guy.”
She twisted her hands together and shook her head. “It happened like it always happened. He was great and I fell for him. After a couple of nights he invited me to go with him to Texas. He was going to teach me to rope a steer. I thought it was love, so why not? I wrote the girls a note and I left.”
The tears returned, slipping down her cheeks. “Just like that. I walked out on them and broke their hearts. I ran into Elle today and she said they were so devastated, they needed therapy. She called me names and she’s right. I was so thoughtless and awful.”
She wiped her face. “That’s why I’m trying so hard to be different. I don’t want to be