The Housemaid(43)

Andrew and I have been meticulously avoiding each other, which is difficult when we live in the same house. If we pass each other, we both avert our eyes. Hopefully, we can get past it, because I don’t want to lose this job. It’s bad enough that I have no chance of a real relationship with the first guy I’ve liked in a decade.

Tonight I’m hurrying to get dinner ready so I can have it on the table before Andrew comes home. But as I’m carrying the glasses of water to the dining room, I run smack into Andrew. Literally. One of the glasses slips out of my hand and shatters on the floor.

“Damn it!” I cry.

I hazard a look at Andrew. He’s wearing a dark blue suit with a dark tie, and yet again, he looks devastatingly handsome. He’s been at work all day and he has a five o’clock shadow on his chin that only makes him more sexy. Our eyes meet for a split second, and against my will, I feel a jolt of attraction. His eyes widen, and I’m sure he feels it, too.

“I’ll help you get this cleaned up,” he says.

“You don’t have to do that.”

But he insists. I sweep up the large pieces of glass, and he holds the dustpan and disposes of them in the kitchen. Nina would never help me, but Andrew isn’t like her. As he takes the broom from me, my fingers brush against his. Our eyes meet again, and this time we can’t ignore the fireworks. It’s physically painful that I can’t be with this man.

“Millie,” he says in a husky whisper.

My throat feels really dry. He’s only a foot away from me. If I leaned forward, he would kiss me. I know he would.

“Oh no! What happened?”

At the sound of Nina’s voice, Andrew and I jump away from each other like we were lit on fire. I grip the broom so tightly my fingers turn white. “I dropped a glass,” I say. “Just, you know… getting it cleaned up.”

Nina’s eyes drop down to the floor, where little tiny shards of glass are glistening under the overhead lights. “Oh Millie,” she says. “Please be more careful next time.”

I have worked here for months and I have never once dropped or broken anything. Well, except for that night she caught me and Andrew watching Family Feud late at night. But she doesn’t know about that. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just going to grab the vacuum.”

Andrew’s eyes follow me as I return to the utility closet (which is slightly larger than my bedroom upstairs), stuff the broom back inside, and grab the vacuum. He has a pained expression on his face. Whatever he wanted to say to me a minute ago, he still wants to say it. But he can’t—not with Nina in the room.

Or maybe he can.

“We should talk later,” he murmurs in my ear, just as he follows Nina into the living room to wait for me to clean up. “Okay?”

I nod. I don’t know what he wants to talk to me about, but I take this as a good sign. We already agreed never to speak of what happened that night at The Plaza. So if he wants to revisit that…

I shouldn’t get my hopes up though.

About ten minutes later, I’ve got everything cleaned up and I call Andrew and Nina back in from the living room. They’re both sitting on the couch, but at opposite ends. They’re looking at their phones, not even attempting to talk to each other. I’ve noticed they’ve started to do the same at dinner time.

They follow me back into the dining room and Nina takes her seat across from Andrew. She looks down at the plate of pork chop with applesauce and broccolini. She smiles at me, and that’s when I notice her bright red lipstick looks a little bit off. It’s smeared over the right side of her lips, which gives her almost a demonic clown appearance. “This looks delicious, Millie.”

“Thank you.”

“Doesn’t it smell wonderful, Andy?” she says.

“Mmm.” He picks up his fork. “Very nice.”

“I’m sure,” Nina continues, “you never got food like this in prison, did you, Millie?”

Mic drop.

Nina is smiling up at me pleasantly with those demonic lips. Andrew, sitting across from her, is gawking at me. Obviously, this is new information to him.

“Um,” I say.

“What sort of food did they serve you there?” she presses me. “I’ve always been curious about that. What’s prison food like?”

I don’t know what to say. I can’t deny it. She knows my past. “It’s okay.”

“Well, I hope you don’t get inspired by any meals you had there,” she laughs. “Stick with what you’ve been doing. You’re doing a good job.”

“Thank you,” I mutter.

Andrew’s face is ashen. Of course, he had no idea I was ever in prison. I never even considered telling him. Somehow, when I’m with him, that time in my life seems like something from the distant past—another lifetime. But most people don’t see it that way. To most people, I am only one thing. A convict.

And Nina wants to make sure I know my place.

Right now, I’m desperate to escape Andrew’s shocked expression. I turn around to head back up to my room. I’m nearly at the stairwell when Nina calls out to me, “Millie?”

I stop, my back going rigid. It takes all my self-restraint to keep from snapping at her when I turn around. I slowly walk back to the dining room with an artificial smile on my face. “Yes, Nina?”