“And I don’t want them to love her more than they love me.” She covers her face, and her whole damn body is shaking
Well, fuck. That never occurred to me. For the second time ever, Margo Quincey has surprised me.
“Marg…you’ll always be their mother. You can’t be replaced by anyone, any more than I was replaced by Landon.”
She wipes her eyes and blows her nose. “Yeah, but Willa’s so much more lovable than Landon is.”
We both laugh at that. “True.”
“Maybe if you guys aren’t so worried about hiding your relationship from the kids, you’ll both be a little more clearheaded.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“But if anything ever happens to my children because of her—”
“It could have happened with either of us, you know that.”
“Look, I don’t want to create trouble. I’m trying to make things easier for everyone. I do like Willa, Shane. And not just because she designed an amazing perfume for me. I like her for you. I could see us all going on family vacations together one day. I hope you don’t fuck it up.”
“That’s very Gwyneth of you, Margo. Thanks. I hope I don’t fuck it up too.”
“I think we should tell the kids together, you and I, on a Skype call after they get home from school.”
“I won’t be home until dinner my time.”
“We’ll work it out. Bye.” She ends the call.
And that is why I’m friends with my ex-wife.
I put my phone away and go downstairs to take a look at the lower level of the house, where the laundry room and my workout area is. There’s room for a workspace for Willa. She could stay in my room and mix her perfumes down here. Or she could turn the guest room into an office. I think it should be pretty easy for her to see that this is a good thing—the early termination of her position as a nanny. She’ll be able to get on with the very important business of creating and selling perfume and being my girlfriend. And sleeping in my bed. Without hiding it from the kids or anyone else.
I can’t fucking wait for her to get home.
Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long.
As soon as she’s through the door from the garage, I take her in my arms.
She drops her purse and wraps her arms around me. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I’m not going to let go of her until she understands that she doesn’t have to leave. “Drop-off went okay?”
“Yeah, I dropped them off at a 7-Eleven. Is that cool? They should be able to find their way to school eventually.” She buries her face in my chest, shaking her head. At least she’s able to make jokes again, even if she doesn’t find them funny.
“They’re really smart. They’ll figure it out. I need to talk to you about something.” When I feel her loosening her grip, I hold on tighter. “Margo called just now. Summer told her about what happened at the garden, and she decided to hire Margarita to start tomorrow. She isn’t mad. She just thinks it would be better if—”
“I’m going to go to New York for the job interview,” she blurts out. She hugs me so tight, the side of her face flat against my chest. I can’t tell if she’s happy or consoling me or hugging me good-bye.
“What?”
“The lab technician job I told you about last month?” Her voice is shaky now. “There’s still one position left, and they’re holding it for me. There aren’t many people in the US who are as qualified as I am.”
“What about your own business?”
“I’ll close my Etsy store for a few days and then figure things out after the interview.”
“Willa. I want you to know that you can stay here. Even when the new nanny is here. I want you to stay here, if you want to. You can use the guest room as an office, or I’ll set up a workspace for you downstairs.”
She grabs my face and kisses me on the mouth, and as always, I can’t say or do anything other than kiss her. It’s all I want to do. I can feel how hard it is for her to pull away from me when she does, and that’s how I know how important it is to her to be able to pull away from me.
“Thank you. I need to go. I have to.” Her eyes are shiny and about to spill over. Uncertainty flickers across her pretty face.
I want to tell her not to go, plead my case. I know exactly what to say and do, how to look at her, the tone of voice to use, to get her to say she’ll stay. God knows, if I were twenty-one and it was just her and me, I probably would. But I don’t want her to resent me for manipulating her. I know why she needs to go. I can’t blow off my work responsibilities today or next week, so I can’t ask her to.
She’s a perfumer. It’s what she’s wanted to be since she was twelve. I’m a performer. I’ve been giving things up for my career since I was a child. Even when I have to give up seeing my kids all the time for a few months, it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to see them.
Still.
I don’t want her to choose anything else over me or my kids.
But I have to let her choose.
“It sounds like a great opportunity for you.”
“I think I should say good-bye to the kids tonight instead of in the morning before school.”
Jesus. This girl is giving me whiplash again.
“Yeah. I agree. The kids will miss you. I will miss you.”
“I’ll stay with my brother.”
“But you can always come back here if it doesn’t work out. Or come back just because you want to. Just come back.”
She nods and gulps back some sad little sound, picking her purse up from the floor and running to her room. The door clicking shut echoes all through the house. Just a hint of how empty this place will feel when she’s gone.
I did not see this coming.
I can’t even think about how much I’ll hate not having her around, even for a few days, because the twins are going to take this so hard.
I vaguely remember when my only problem was that I had insomnia, no nanny, two kids who took up all my time and energy, and no love life to look forward to.
Now all of a sudden, I’ve got an upcoming press junket and movie premiere, two nannies, two kids, three broken hearts to look forward to, and the terrible knowledge that the only woman I can see myself spending the rest of my life with needs to be able to see herself living her life without me.
I get it.
I fucking hate it.
But I get her. Even when she surprises me and knocks the wind out of me, I understand Willa Todd. Even if I give her everything that I can give her, she needs to know that she can concoct something that will make her feel like she’s in control of her world and her heart.
So all I can do is try to figure out how to explain all of that to two five-year-olds.
25
Willa
It felt like everything was happening in slow-motion—like I was wading through water ever since I brought the kids home from the garden. Now things are happening so fast. Everything is spinning, and I’m circling the drain.
I e-mailed my mentor and the people in New York right after Shane told me about the new nanny starting.
I have an interview set for Wednesday.
I’ve booked a flight to JFK.
I’ve texted my brother to let him know I’ll be bringing my things back to his place tonight. I told him that I’ll explain why when I see him.
I’ve called my grammie to let her know I’m going to visit her in Michigan right after my interview and gave her two minutes to explain to me why I had made the right decision.
I’ve started packing everything up.
I’ve posted a note on my Etsy shop that I won’t be shipping anything for the next week.
I’ve eaten dinner with Shane and the kids, and he and the kids have Skyped with Margo in the family room.
I’ve dotted my pulse points with lavender and neroli oil.
I keep reminding myself to breathe.
I keep reminding myself that I can’t blame anyone for anything, especially not Shane.
/> I keep reminding myself that I spent seven years in post-secondary school to be a perfumer and I can’t ignore a job opportunity just so I can play house with Shane and his kids. Shane wouldn’t do that. It might not be my dream job, but it’s a great job and it’s my reality.
Now I just have to be a grown-up and say good night and good-bye to the kids without falling to pieces or breaking their sweet little hearts.
When it was time for me to leave Versailles, I was sad to say good-bye to Noelle and Leo and their mother too, but nobody got emotional. They weren’t a particularly expressive family, but I never really felt like a part of their family either. When I said good-bye to the grandmother and told her that I was going to Los Angeles, she studied my palm and said, “Yes. You will be reunited with much family there.” At that point, I figured she meant my brother. A month ago, it occurred to me that she may have meant Shane’s family. Now I’m wondering if maybe palmistry is just a load of crap.
Shane is letting the twins sleep in his bed tonight. They’re all washed-up, and for the first time since I met her, Summer brushed her teeth without any fuss. They’ve both been acting like they’ve been told that Santa won’t be coming this year and it’s all their fault. Neither of them has cried yet, but they’ve also barely made a sound. Maybe they can’t wait for me to go. Shane went downstairs to give me a chance to talk to them, and I’ve just been sitting on the bed watching the twins lie there quietly while staring at their stuffed animals for a couple of minutes.
“Is there anything that either of you would like to ask me?”
Lucky takes a deep breath and sighs. “How are you going to go to New York?”
“I’m going to fly there. On an airplane. Have you been to New York?”
He nods. “Our grandma and grandpa live there. Are you going to see them?”
“No. I’m only going to be there for a short while, this trip. I’m going to meet some people and talk to them about a job.”
“To be someone else’s nanny?”
“No, it’s not a nanny job. It’s another kind of job. Working in a big building instead of a house.”
“But why do you have to go to New York?”
“Because that’s where the job is.”
“But are you going to come back to here?”
“Yes. And if I have to move to New York, I promise I will come back to see you before I go. If you want me to. Do you want me to?”
He nods and wipes his nose.
I kiss him on the cheek. “You’re a very good, smart boy, and I love you very much.”
“You’re supposed to kiss me on both cheeks,” he whispers. “Like French people.”
“You’re right.” I kiss him on both cheeks. “Bonne nuit, mon chéri.”
Summer still hasn’t said a word or made eye contact with me, so I go over to sit closer to her. I brush hair out of her face and lean in to kiss her on both cheeks, and as soon as I do, she bursts into tears. “I made you in trouble, didn’t I?”
“No. I made me in trouble.”
“I’m sorry I told on you.”
“You don’t have to say you’re sorry to me. I am not mad at you, Summer. I love you.”
“But you’re going away anyway?”
“I have to go to New York for the job interview. It’s not because I want to leave you and Lucky or your dad. People don’t stop loving each other just because they aren’t around all the time. You know that, right? Just like your mom still loves you, even though she’s working in Poland now. And your dad always loves you, even when he’s doing a movie somewhere else. I might have to go to New York to work for a while, but I’ll still love you and think about you guys all the time.”
This seems to make sense to both of them, and Summer calms down.
She wipes the tears from her eyes. “You’re not taking us to school tomorrow?” she asks.
“No, I have to go to the airport tomorrow. I’m going to my brother’s place tonight.”
“Will you wait here until we’re asleep?”
I give her a hug, and she hugs me back. I have to hold my breath because the scent of her baby shampoo is the thing that might finally break me. “I have to go downstairs to finish packing and putting things in the truck. But I’ll send your dad up to stay with you. Okay?”
She nods.
“Knock knock.”
They both ask, so cautiously, “Who’s there?”
“Toodle”
“Toodle who?”
“See you later, alligators.”
Shane is sitting at the bottom of the stairs. He stands up as soon as he hears me coming down.
“Can you stay with them until they fall asleep?” I whisper.
“Don’t you need help loading up the truck?”
My mind flashes back to the first day I got here, when he helped me unload the truck in a haze of pheromones, and the first time he said good-bye to me in the garage when I was leaving to go to Nico’s show. “I think it would be best if we just say good night right now.”
I hug him, looking down, because if he kisses me, I will forget to leave.
He strokes my hair instead. “Text me when you get to Nico’s.”
“Okay.”
“Text me when you’re in New York.”
“I will.”
“Text me anytime you want to. It doesn’t even have to be dirty. I’ll be busy, but I’ll get back to you when I can.”
I nod and pull away from him.
He stares at me for a few seconds before saying, “We love you, you know?”
“Yeah. I love you guys too.” I glance up at him to confirm that he regrets what he just said as much as I do, but neither of us says anything else. “Go be with the kids. Good night.”
“Good night.”
* * *
My brother patiently listens to everything I have to tell him about what’s happened in the past few days and why I’m going to New York for the job interview before staring at me blankly and saying, “Go back to Shane. Now.”
“What?”
“You’re punishing yourself because the kids got lost on your watch.”
Am I?
“Well, that may be part of the reason why I’m not hesitating to go to New York right now, but I still have to go. It’s not just for me, even. My professor highly recommended me. It wouldn’t reflect well on him or the school if I just blew off this interview—I already turned down that job in Paris when I decided to move here.”
He waves his hand dismissively. “You’re being an idiot. I mean, do what you gotta do.” He gets up from the coffee table he was sitting on, returning with his guitar. “You have the best brain of anyone I know, but you need to trust your heart on this one. You should trust his heart. God knows I love Grammie and she’s right about most things, but she’s wrong about you and Shane.”
“You talked to Grammie about us?”
“I talk to Grammie about almost everything.”
“Really?” Am I jealous that Grammie talks to my brother more than me? A little.
“Who do you think I talked to about the real shit when you were in France? Mom and Dad? It’s been Grammie and Shane for half my life almost.”
He sits back down in front of me, tuning his guitar.
“Oh God. Are you going to serenade me?”
“I’m gonna show you what’s what in a minute. Hang on.” He continues tuning.
I check my phone when it buzzes. It’s not Shane. Harley has been texting me nonstop ever since I told her that I was fired and I’m going to New York for the job interview. Texts like “Yeah, girl! Boss up and change your life!” and “Walk that fine ass out that door.”
HARLEY: I’ve got a bottle of tequila I’ve been saving for you!
ME: I’m fine and I can’t go out. I have a flight to catch tomorrow. Stop quoting Lizzo songs at me. XOXO
HARLEY: Holy shit. I’m so impressed that you actually know who Lizzo is, I’m backing down.
ME: Peace out, sister.
&n
bsp; HARLEY: Okay, that’s just lame. Dork.
ME:
I look up to find my brother staring at me. “You ready to have your mind blown?” He starts strumming his guitar. “This is a song I started working on after Shane told me about you guys. It’s called ‘Sleeper Hit.’”
“What? You stole my name.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I called my perfume that’s inspired by Shane and me ‘Sleeper.’”
“You didn’t tell me that. I’m not changing the title.”
“Fine. People will just think I copied you anyway.”
He shrugs and starts singing. He sings about an actor who can’t sleep because he’s afraid he’ll be alone in bed for the rest of his life, tired of acting like everything’s okay. And then he meets the girl of his dreams and all of that chemistry he’s been pretending to have with other girls is finally real. I’m curled up on the futon, in tears, before he’s finished the song.
It doesn’t change the fact that I’m leaving tomorrow. But for the first time ever, my brother lies down beside me and comforts me, and I am realizing that he might not be as big of an asshat as I thought he was. Even if it is completely ridiculous to think of me as the girl of Shane Miller’s dreams.
SHANE MILLER SLEEP DIARY – Wednesday, 5 am
Went to bed at: This shit again. I don’t have a fucking clue. I got a call from the director of Hard Shell at around ten last night, letting me know that our movie is going to be screened at the Toronto International Film Festival in September. It’s a big deal. A huge deal. And the only person I wanted to tell was Willa. But she has her job interview today. I didn’t want to bother her with my career crap.
How long it took you to fall asleep: How the fuck should I know? Keeping track of this shit when you’re trying to sleep is stressful. Who came up with these fucking diary questions anyway? How do they sleep at night?
How many times you woke up in the middle of the night: Seriously, what difference does it make?
How refreshing your overall sleep was: Like lying in a fucking bed of daisies that won’t stop asking where Willa is or what she’s up to or why you thought it would be better for her if you let her go.
Sleeper Page 20
