Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(39)

“Thank you.”

“The kids. They love you. I think . . .” He tapped his thumbs together. “I think they think of you as more mother than their mother.”

Their mother lived in Humboldt County. When her acting jobs dried up and the divorce went through, she’d moved there with a boyfriend and grew weed full time. Raymond had done the impossible in the state of California and gotten primary custody. The kids Skyped with their mother once a week. It was uncomfortable, and Willow got sullen whenever the call came through.

“I’m not a replacement,” I said, citing the nanny mantra. “Just a supplement.”

“Right, well, that makes this really hard, is what I’m trying to say.”

Ah.

Crap.

The surface of my skin had gone cold.

There was only one conversation an employer started that way.

“This? This is hard?” I asked. He was going to say it. I wasn’t saving him the trouble because I still didn’t believe it.

“I have to let you go.”

There it was.

“Why?”

“I’ll give you references anywhere you want to go.”

“Why?”

“I’ll say the kids got older and—”

“Do not make me ask you again.”

I used my bossy voice. The voice that dropped an octave. The voice that meant business. Jedi picked his shit up and Willow did her homework when I used that voice. Raymond’s tan went gray and his jaw slacked a little. God, I didn’t know whether to slap him for being a wuss or crawl under a rock for pole-vaulting my boundaries.

I held my breath and my tongue. Those references were important.

“It’s Kendall,” he’d said, opening his hands as if he were presenting a gold box full of high-quality motives instead of yet another relationship with yet another actress. “She’s . . . you know she’s a Hollywood girl. She sees someone . . .”—he made an open-handed vertical hand motion toward me—“a woman living with me.”

“It’s not like that. Did you explain that it’s not like that?”

“I did. But you have to admit, Cara, there’s no hiding.” He made that motion again, up and down my body.

“I dress modestly.”

“I know, I know. You’re a professional. But, look,” he shrugged, “she’s worried. And if she’s going to marry me, she wants to know there isn’t a second beautiful woman down the hall.”

Oh, they were getting married. At least he was buying the cow that was dropping shit all over the house.

His house.

Now Kendall’s house.

Not my house.

“I debated whether I should tell you the truth, but I think I owed you that much.”

Again, he wasn’t being an *. God I wanted to be so mad and I couldn’t be.

“Thank you for the references.”

“I’ll cut you a check for six months’ severance.”

“Thank you. I’ll pack.”

I shot up and walked to the stairs.

“Do you want to wait for the check?” he called from behind me.

Did I want to wait for money?

Yeah. I did. I also wanted to call Kendall and explain to her that her future husband was not attractive to me at all. I’d heard him fight with his ex-wife. I’d seen him ditch his kids for a screw. I’d never seen him hand either of his children a morsel of food when they were hungry. He doled out compliments like potato chips, but they were brittle and slippery and nutrient-free. He was a grotesquerie of trending fashion statements and in his eyes I could see the bitter, entitled old man he was going to become.

I wanted to tell her I wasn’t a threat to her, but she wouldn’t believe it.

I’d dug my suitcase from the back of my closet. I’d been with the Heywoods since I was twenty-two. Two years. I’d gotten a master’s in child development in that time. It had been worth it, but I wasn’t ready to leave.

“You don’t have to pack so fast.” Raymond stood in the door, his face and body stiff with concern.

“I don’t want Kendall to think I’m going to try and get you in bed before I go. What your fiancée thinks is important. Seriously. You need to show her you care about her feelings and you’ll do what she wants. I don’t want to mess with what you have with her.”

I was being disingenuous. I believed what I said, but I didn’t think giving Kendall what she wanted would ever satisfy her.

I plopped a pile of clothes from my drawer into the suitcase. “I can come by a few times to help with the transition.”

“I don’t have anyone to pick up Jedi today,” he said. “The new lady isn’t coming until late this afternoon, and I have to get to work.”

The pile of jeans hovered over the suitcase. I’d stopped thinking about packing when my brain overloaded.

He’d already hired someone.

And he was asking me to pick up Jedi, who got out of kindergarten at two thirty and not Willow, who got out of robotics class at four thirty, because he already had someone for later in the afternoon.

“Did the kids know?” I asked.

“No. I’ll tell them later. You should just drop him off.”

He hooked his thumbs in his front pockets and tapped his fingers on his thighs.