"You know what, Neil," I said, working his key off my keychain. "You are not worth my time." I tossed the key at him. It smacked his chest and fell to the floor. "Have a nice life."
I stormed out his bedroom door, down the stairs, and out of his life. I didn't let a single tear fall until I was safe inside my own apartment.
# # #
New Year's Eve sucks when you're alone. Seriously. Every other movie is about gorgeous couples having meet-cutes in the most unlikely circumstances and winding up together to toast in the New Year. Real life couples gush about parties and plans. Even the damn diamond industry has to get in on the deal, suggesting romantic propositions complete with their particular brand of jewelry.
I was supposed to be at a swanky party with Neil. Some rich guy from the West Hills had invited him. I was to be his plus one. Naturally, that was out of the question. My family wasn't big on partying for New Year's, and most of my friends were having a romantic night with their significant others or headed out to clubs. I supposed I could party crash or hit up a club, but I wasn't in the mood.
Instead, I sat alone like Bridget Jones with a bottle of cheap wine and the TV turned to Times Square. It was on mute, but I wanted to watch the ball drop, see those idiots kissing random strangers. Feel sorry for myself. I took another gulp of wine.
My laptop was open. I'd been giving my credit card a bit of a workout. Not that I could afford it, of course. But I needed some art supplies, and shopping made me feel better. It wasn't something I indulged in often, but this was an exceptional case.
A chime sounded. Email alert. With a sigh I picked up the laptop and clicked open the email.
"Dear Ms. Lucas," it began. "It has come to my attention you are seeking employment teaching art to young students." I frowned. How did this person know? I hadn't even signed up on any employment sites yet. Maybe somebody at Portland Prep had sent out queries for me? I couldn't imagine who, except Mr. Bain. Probably he felt guilty. I kept reading. "You have excellent credentials and come highly recommended. As such I would like to offer you a most highly coveted position as nanny…."
Nanny? I was an art teacher, not a nanny. Okay, granted, I did have a degree in early childhood education along with the art degree, as did most teachers. But a nanny?
I scanned the rest of the email and drew in a breath. London. The job was in London. Notting Hill, to be precise.
Suddenly my head filled with images of my favorite romantic comedy movies: Bridget Jones's Diary, The Holiday, and Love, Actually. London. A new job, a new country, a new start. My mother would freak.
I read the rest of the email, which spelled out a generous salary as well as a few other particulars. Frankly, I'd stopped paying attention after the word "London." The email was signed Sylvia Cobb of Notting Hill Au Pairs.
I quickly clicked "reply" and began typing. "Dear Ms. Cobb. When can I start?"
Chapter 2
I stared out the window of the town car and watched the houses of London drift by. Drops of rain streaked across the glass, pushed by the wind. Nerves were at war with excitement. This was the start of my new life, thanks to Sylvia.
I still couldn't believe I was doing this. Desperate, I guessed. Sylvia had guaranteed me placement, which was good enough for the British Home Office. So, visa in hand, I had arrived at Heathrow that morning and gone straight to Notting Hill Au Pairs.
My first question, naturally, had been to ask how she'd known I needed a job. She'd given me a sly look and said, "I have my ways." Obviously, someone must have told her. Maybe she found my resume online.
I smiled as I remembered Sylvia and her booming laugh. She'd told me I was going to work for an "interesting woman."
"That sounds suspicious," I'd said, watching her closely. "Interesting" usually meant "difficult" in my world.
"Her sister and brother-in-law died. Left her their children. Can you imagine? She's never been married nor had children of her own, so she's a bit lost. Plus she's quite a busy woman with a successful company, so she needs help."
"And there weren't any British nannies?"
"She was quite particular about the requirements. Not so easy to find, believe you me." Sylvia eyed me. "You were perfect."
"If you say so."
She smiled. "Here are the address and particulars." She thrust a sheet of paper across the desk. "I have a car outside. Don't keep Ms. Talbot waiting. It makes her testy."
Wonderful. So, here I was, not only about to go work for Ms. Testy, but live with her too. I must have been mad to consider the position. Still, it seemed an excellent chance for adventure. Anything to get away from the memories crowding me at home.
Maybe I was running away, but I was okay with that. Sometimes running away was the smart thing to do, or so I tried to convince myself.
At last the car slid to a stop in front a fancy wrought iron gate. "Are you sure this is it?" I asked the driver, frowning up at the monstrous building.
