And Then You

by Amanda Richardson

  Four.

  From: “Nicholas Wilder”

  To: “Evi Halle”

  Date: September 6, 2014 10:01 p.m. PST

  Subject: When can you start?

  Evianna,

  My MIL loved you. I trust her judgment, so I’m offering you the job. I know you don’t have very much experience, but Cecelia’s recommendation was glowing, and she seems to think you’d fit in well here. Besides, I’m not looking for Mary Poppins. I’m just looking for someone responsible who genuinely likes kids. You fit the bill.

  When can you start?

  Nick

  From: “Evi Halle”

  To: “Nicholas Wilder”

  Date: September 6, 2014 10:23 p.m. PST

  Subject: RE: I CAN START A.S.A.P!

  Dear Nick,

  O.M.G!

  Thank you, thank you!

  I can start immediately.

  (Get me out of this house.):)

  Evi

  From: “Nicholas Wilder”

  To: “Evi Halle”

  Date: September 6, 2014 10:29 p.m. PST

  Subject: RE: Can you start on Monday?

  Evianna,

  O.M.G! (Did I really just say that?)

  Can you start on Monday? Cecelia will call you with the details.

  Nick

  Five.

  Evianna

  “I can’t believe they hired you,” my mother smirks from beside my dresser. She’s been in here for the last hour, helping me pack.

  “I don’t know why you’re all so surprised,” I say, gritting my teeth. I throw my T-shirts into a suitcase. “It’s not like I’m a crazy person. I’m a college graduate. In fact, I have two college degrees. I’ve never been in trouble with the law. I’m mentally stable. I’m normal,” I offer, even though I know my mother is going to laugh. She does.

  “It’s not that, Evianna. It’s just… it’s a surprising turn of events, that’s all.”

  I glare at her as I fold a pair of jeans.

  “Yeah, well, when your boyfriend of seven years cheats on you and you have nowhere else to live, getting a job is kind of the first thing you should do.” I hold my hand up because I know she’s about to insinuate that I have a place to live. “And by nowhere else to live, I mean a place that a normal, twenty-five year old would live—should live. That does not include this house, in my opinion.”

  “I’ll just say one thing,” she retorts. I look at her and wait. “You are always welcome here.”

  I soften a bit. I know she’s being sincere. I know my parents love me. But… it’s so weird living at home after living on your own. Some people can make it work. I just know that I can’t. And if I’m being honest… I really miss the apartment I shared with Dan. Not so much because of Dan, but because it was my own space, and having my own space was really important to me.

  “I know, Mom,” I say, walking over and hugging her. “Until I find my dream job, I need some independence. That’s all.”

  “Okay,” she says, nodding. “I just… if you need anything… I know it hasn’t been that long since Dan—”

  “Stop,” I plead. “Please don’t say his name.”

  “Okay. He who shalt not be named,” she adds, chuckling. “I’m just saying… maybe you need more time to heal?”

  I snap my head around and stare at her.

  “It’s been three months. I’ve been moping around for far too long. I don’t think I have anything left in me to heal, if I’m being honest. The only thing I need is a fresh start. I need to put some time and space between everything… to process everything. This is the next logical step.”

  “I know, honey, and we’re proud of you,” she says, caressing my arm. “What about food? Do you have a kitchen?” she asks. Her question is valid. Of course my mother wants to make sure I’ll be fed.

  “My guest house has its own kitchen, though when Cecelia called yesterday, she said I can use the house like my own when I’m there, including their fridge.”

  She nods her head approvingly.

  We continue to fold clothes neatly into the suitcase—one of the two suitcases my family actually owns. The only time we went on vacation as a family was when we went to Vancouver for the weekend when I was seventeen. My mother explained at the time that she wanted us all to go “international.” We even got passports for the occasion. Mind you, Canada is only two and a half hours away by car. It was still fun though.

  We didn’t need a lot of things growing up, which was good because we couldn’t afford a lot of things. But my parents made sure they made up for it with love. I was never left wanting, and my parents were always affectionate and caring. I feel lucky that I’m so close with my family. Nothing compares to the camaraderie of the immediate family.

  “What about furniture?” she asks, eyeing my bed.

  “Nope. Cecelia says the guesthouse is furnished. I’m just bringing some clothes and decorations—like when I went off to college.”

  “Okay,” she says skeptically.

  I look over at her. At almost fifty, she looks like she hasn’t aged a day past thirty. She’s shorter than me, with short, brown hair and dark-brown eyes. She’s half-Puerto Rican, though she doesn’t know a single Spanish word. She’s beautiful, exotic. I got my green eyes from my father, who’s tall, pale, and half-Scottish. Elijah and I both got our skin coloring from Mom. It shows—we’re always tanned, and my dad is always sunburned.

  “I hope they don’t work you too hard. I’ve heard horror stories about live-in nannies…”

  “I get the feeling they’re pretty laid back.”

  “Okay,” she says, unconvinced. What is it about mothers that makes them so skeptical about everything? “God, the whole situation is just so sad, though,” she says softly. “Widower with a young daughter. I can’t even imagine.” She places a stack of clothes next to the suitcase. It’s getting full. I know I won’t be able to take all of my clothes this time around, but since my family and I agreed on Sunday dinners, I can replenish my clothes every week.

  “I know,” I mumble, thinking of Matthias. Something about his eyes still haunts me. Maybe it’s because he was so young when he… I can’t even think about it. It’s too tragic.

  “What does Mr. Wilder do for a living?”

  I look down and frown. I don’t remember Cecelia ever telling me what he does. I shrug my shoulders.

  “I actually don’t know. Cecelia never said. Must be something fancy…” I trail off. I’ve told my mother all about the giant house and the fancy furniture. I continue. “The house is seriously huge,” I say, smiling. “I can’t wait to show you guys.”

  “I can’t wait to visit,” she counters, smiling. “I hope you like it there.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I say for the thousandth time.

  My mom continues to sort my clothes silently. I can always tell when she wants to say something, because she gets unnecessarily quiet. She’s being unnecessarily quiet right now.

  “So you’ve never met him?” she asks.

  “No. He was gone for work when I went on the interview.”

  “Huh,” she clucks, and I immediately know she’s thinking something outlandish or inappropriate.

  “What?” I ask, eyeing her sideways. “I can practically see the wheels spinning,” I accuse.

  “Nothing, nothing. I just wonder what he’s like. I wonder if, you know… long days, living with him, if he’s attractive. He’s a widower, after all…”

  “Ew, Mom!” I yell, throwing one of my pillows at her. “He’s a dad. He’s probably old. That’s disgusting,” I say, swatting her with the pillow again. “I can’t believe you would even suggest that.”

  She just laughs and pats me on the butt before leaving.

  “You can’t always help whom you fall in love with,” she chimes, and before I can throw another pillow at her, she’s gone.
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  I sigh and heave the suitcase and my clothes off the bed. I fall back into the soft comforter and close my eyes.

  It’s true. I have no idea what he’s like. He sounds nice from his emails, but he’s my employer. I shake my head violently for even allowing myself to think about it.

  “Evi!” Elijah screams from the bottom of the stairs. “Dinner’s ready!”

  Would it have been too much trouble for him to come up the stairs and tell me in person? He basically just cattle-called me. He might as well have used a cowbell.

  He is so lazy.

  I walk downstairs and notice the candles on the table. Oh god, my mom’s gone all out tonight because it’s my “last night.” She squeals excitedly when I sit down, and she presents me with a small package.

  “Just a little going-away present,” she says smugly. “Thought you’d enjoy it during your time off.”

  I smile and hug her tightly around the waist from where I’m sitting.

  “Thank you,” I say, and I begin to open the package. My smile widens when I realize it’s a book.

  Books are the best present ever.

  “Mom!” I gasp. It’s a beautiful, hardcover edition of Pride and Prejudice, my favorite book. “How much did this cost?” I ask, flipping the leather-bound book over.

  “Oh, it was nothing, dear.” She hugs me back and goes to sit down next to my father.

  “Now you’ll have something to read,” he adds, smiling.

  I don’t tell them about the twelve books I shoved into the outer pockets of the suitcase just a moment ago.

  “Thank you,” I say. “This means a lot.” I clutch the book to my chest and get up to put it in my room. When I’m finished, I walk back downstairs, and my mom is serving my favorite meal: lasagna. I eye my mother lovingly.

  “Thank you.” I hug her again before I sit down.

  “Well, who knows when you’ll have another lasagna,” she jokes, referring to my cooking skills, or lack thereof. I’m a great baker, but cooking is not my forte.

  “I’ve made lasagna before,” I say reproachfully. “It turned out okay…”

  Elijah laughs. I glare at him. He clears his throat and makes it look like he’s coughing. I serve everyone else, and then I take a generous portion for myself. Mom’s lasagna is the best. I could eat the whole pan.

  “Eat up,” she says, gesturing to my plate. “You’ve lost weight since your breakup, and you look like a twig,” she adds. “And I don’t mean that in a good way, either.”

  Mothers.

  “Twig is very in vogue,” I joke, sucking in my cheeks. “I’ll just eat paper for dinner,” I say, faking a French accent and posing ridiculously.

  Elijah cackles, and my mother swats at my arm.

  “I mean it. Eat,” she commands.

  Sometimes I wonder if she’s really Italian and not Puerto Rican.

  I devour my meal and ask for seconds, much to the pleasure of my mother. We chat for a while about my new job. I think about the next day, and how I have to be there early. Nick wants me there before he leaves on a trip.

  Another trip.

  I hug Elijah and my parents before heading upstairs to finish packing. I feel like I’m leaving for college again—like I’m on the precipice of something big. I can’t deny the nervous butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. After all, I will be responsible for another human being, something I’ve never really done for anyone other than Elijah. It’s scary and daunting, but I know that I’m capable.

  I change into my pajamas and finish packing what’s left of my personal belongings. I charge my phone and go to brush my teeth. Once I’m done getting ready, and I can rest assured that all of my belongings are packed up, I climb into my bed and turn the lights off.

  These last three months were tough—I can’t deny that. If nothing else, I’m craving a fresh start. A new job, a new place to live… a clean break. I feel like half the person I used to be—I imagine a turtle with half a shell. The other half is somewhere else, reserved for the one person who hurt me the most—Dan. Maybe I’ll never heal. Maybe I’ll never get the other half of the shell back. But I have to try. And though tomorrow feels significant for various reasons, the biggest thing I can hope for is to be happy again.

  Everyone deserves to be happy.

  I wipe a salty tear from my cheek. I hardly ever cry, but for the first time in three months, I’m not crying because of Dan or Mia, or because life didn’t work out the way I hoped it would.

  I’m crying tears of joy, because I know, for the first time since I met him, that Dan and I were never meant to be. And it feels good to be moving forward.

  It feels good to be doing something for me.

  I really hope this job works out. I need it to work out.

  Six.

  Evianna

  I pull up to the Wilder house just as the sun is starting to peek through the trees. It’s 6:30 a.m.—my god. I blink, trying to wake myself up. I chug the last of my coffee and park in my designated spot. Cecelia told me where to park—next to the Porsche Cayenne. Except… it’s not there, so I pull into the spot I think is next to it.

  It’ll have to do.

  I debate whether or not I should show up at the front door with my suitcase, or if I should just leave it in the car. I glance down at my outfit. I’m much more sensibly dressed today in skinny jeans, sneakers, and a loose, cowl-necked, sporty sweatshirt. I decide to bring everything in now. Besides, nothing says professionalism more than showing up at your new live-in job with a suitcase at 6:30 a.m., right?

  I open my trunk and lift the heavy suitcase out. It smacks against the concrete and falls onto its side. I look around, wondering if any of the rich neighbors are wondering who is making such a ruckus so early on a Monday morning.

  I lug it behind me as I walk towards the front door. I ring the doorbell, and after a few seconds, I hear heels clacking on the marble. The door opens.

  “Ah, Evianna! Welcome, welcome,” Cecelia says, kissing each of my cheeks before taking the suitcase from me. “Let me,” she says, grabbing the handle. I try to dissuade her, but she moves my hand out of the way and leads me through the house. “I’ll show you to your living quarters, and then you can come inside and meet Bria. She’s not awake yet. Unfortunately, Nick had to leave for work a few minutes ago, so you just missed him. He’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

  He’s gone again? Geez, is this guy ever home?

  I nod, and she leads me down the hall and through the kitchen. She opens the back door and guides me outside. The guesthouse is a small building on the edge of the property, and it looks cute and quaint from here. I also notice a freestanding barbeque, a pool, and several pool loungers dotted around the perimeter of the lap pool.

  Now that’s what I’m talking about.

  “There’s a separate entrance over there,” Cecelia says, pointing to a gate beyond the pool. “If you’re ever out late,” she adds. “You’ll have keys to the main house, which you’re welcome to use whenever you want.” She stops in front of the guesthouse. “Like I mentioned before, just ask Nick about the guests. A couple of girlfriends are fine, family is fine… but he’s just not sure how Bria might react if she saw you with a boy—”

  I interrupt her. My mother always told me never to interrupt someone when they’re speaking, but I feel I must explain my situation.

  “Cecelia,” I say politely. “You don’t have to worry about boys with me. I just had my heart broken. Boys are the farthest things from my mind.” I smile reassuringly, and she nods.

  “Just a formality,” she says, touching my arm gently and beaming. “Anyhow, this is your living area.” She opens the door, and I take in the modern look and feel. I like it. A lot. “You have a full kitchen over there,” she says, pointing to a small but nice kitchen with modern appliances. “And the washer and dryer are over there,” she adds, pointing to a small room off of the kitchen. “There is one bedroom and one full bathroom. I think you should have everything you need
. Please feel free to decorate however you want.”

  I nod and take everything in. A small leather loveseat sits closest to the door, and a living room vignette next to it, complete with a TV, a small coffee table, and a rug. There is a small breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the living space with two chrome stools.

  “Let me show you the bedroom,” she says, setting my suitcase down next to the door. We walk down a small hallway and into a decent-sized bedroom with a luxurious, queen-sized bed. A dresser, nightstand, and desk make up the furniture. It’s perfect.

  “Great,” I say, not wanting to sound too eager. It’s a palace compared to all of my previous living arrangements. Even the apartment I shared with Dan was a dump.

  “The bathroom’s just off to the right,” she adds, pointing to a door. I glance inside. It’s a large, full-sized bathroom with a bath, a shower fixture, and a large sink vanity.

  “Cecelia, this is perfect,” I say. “Really. I think I’ll be very happy here.”

  “Good. I’m glad,” she says, smiling. “I’ll let you get settled. I’m sorry I had you come so early. I thought Nick would be here to meet you.”

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “He’s a doctor. A pediatrician.”

  “Wow,” I mutter. A doctor.

  My mother’s voice plays in my head. You should always marry a doctor or a lawyer. Too bad she didn’t follow her own advice. Ugh… I hated her for even suggesting that I would fall in love with Nick. I hadn’t even met him! For all I knew, he was fat and ugly.

  “He gets called in early a lot—it’s been especially bad the last couple of days. A lot of kids are sick the first week of school, but things will settle down. His normal business hours are nine to five, and he works close by.”

  “Oh, okay,” I say.