The Summer of Sunshine and Margot(98)

He told himself she could come and go as she liked. That it was possible she was spending the evening with her sister, or maybe she was out on a date. Or possibly right this second she was in some guy’s bed, having the time of her life. It wasn’t his business—not any of it. Only he didn’t want to think about her out on a date and he sure as hell didn’t want her doing it with a random stranger, or even someone she knew, for that matter, unless that someone was him, which it couldn’t be and, damn, was he messed up.

Connor was in bed, the house was quiet and Declan didn’t know what to do with himself. He paced the long hallway leading to his bedroom, then decided to check the garage one more time. Maybe she’d come home when he’d been putting Connor to bed or something.

He pushed open the door and saw that her car was parked next to his. The cracks and pings of cooling metal told him she hadn’t been back very long. Relief eased some of his concern. She was home and therefore all right. Fine. He would read for a bit before calling it a night himself.

Only he couldn’t seem to make his way back to his bedroom. Something in his gut said there was a problem, although he had no idea why. He had never been very emotionally intuitive.

Still, he found himself heading for the kitchen. Sunshine wasn’t there, nor was she in the family room. That left her bedroom which was completely off-limits. He didn’t go in there, ever, and he wasn’t going to start now.

He turned to walk purposefully toward his room, only as he went by the windows, he saw her in the backyard. She was stretched out in one of the chaises on the patio. It was dark, it was cool and she’d never done anything like that before. Even knowing he should stay out of whatever it was, he opened the back door and stepped outside.

“Hey,” he said as he approached. “Did you just get back?”

“I did.”

Her voice was low and soft and he couldn’t tell anything from her tone.

He hesitated for a second, then sat on the chaise beside hers, angled to face her, his feet on the concrete. It was dark enough that he couldn’t see much of her face so he had no idea what she was thinking.

“Did you have a good day off?” he asked, really wanting to know that she was okay so he could retreat to his room and entertain himself with inappropriate fantasies about what could never be.

“It was peachy.”

She turned as she spoke and the light caught her profile. She was crying.

Concern almost had him pulling her into his arms before he reminded himself to stay where he was and communicate through his words.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. My past caught up with me and slapped me really hard.” She touched her cheek. “In this case, literally.”

He couldn’t figure out what she was saying. “Someone hit you?”

She looked away. “I’m fine, Declan. Or I will be.”

Now he could hear the tears in her voice, the thickness of the pain, whatever it was.

“What happened? Tell me. Or tell me to go away and I’ll leave you alone. Sunshine, I want to help but I don’t know what to do.”

She drew in a breath. “You really don’t want to know. Trust me. I’m not who you think. I’m a terrible person. You should fire me. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s true. I can’t be trusted with anyone’s kids.”

“Now you’re not making sense.”

She looked at him. “Do you remember when you interviewed me and asked about my references? How everyone said I was the best nanny ever, if only you could get me to stay?”

He nodded, not sure what this had to do with whatever was bothering her.

“That’s not the half of it. That in no way describes what I’ve done.” She pulled herself forward on the chaise, so she was sitting facing him, their knees nearly touching.

“I’m good with kids,” she said, staring at her lap, her hair hanging down, shielding her face. “Really good. Probably because I like hanging out with them. I enjoy their company and being involved with their lives. When you’re a nanny, that’s the job description—to get involved. Most contracts are for a year and everyone knows that. But telling a kid you’ll be gone in a year doesn’t mean anything to them. When you’re five or eight or ten, a year is a lifetime. It’s a faraway place and it’s not today so it doesn’t matter.”

She brushed away tears. “There are ways to handle leaving. You start having the conversation about a month before. You get them ready. You deal with the acting up, the crying, the begging. Or so I’ve been told. Because I’ve never done it. I’ve never left the way you’re supposed to.”

She looked at him, her expression stark. “I leave. That’s what I do, Declan. What I’ve always done. I meet some guy and decide he’s the one and take off, usually with nothing more than a quick note or a phone call. My grandmother left my mother. My mother left us. And I leave them.”

She turned away. “It’s the worst part of me. It’s the dark ugly side everyone wants to keep hidden, but it’s right there for all to see. It’s in my personnel file, for God’s sake.”

He tried to make sense of everything she was saying. He heard the words but couldn’t reconcile them with the woman he knew. “What happened today?”