Reckless(46)

If her goal is to make me feel like shit, she’s one to nothing. I look down at my clothes that were perfectly acceptable for a club, but now, at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning, definitely reek of the walk of shame.

Feeling the familiar burn of embarrassment in my cheeks, I suck in a breath. Memories of storming out of Jamie’s house that night turn my stomach.

This isn’t the same thing.

This isn’t the same thing.

It just feels like the same thing.

I turn away, unable to look at Allison, because all I can do is compare myself to her. She’s beautiful. Perfect blonde bob with sun-kissed streaks that probably cost a fortune to have done at a salon. Designer linen pants. Expensive perfume. Elegant diamond earrings that glint in the morning sun. I feel like a husband-stealing tart next to her, which I know isn’t rational, but my emotions don’t want to focus on rational right now.

“Jesus, Allison. Stop being such a…” Ethan stops mid-sentence and shakes his head. “Look, I’m not doing this with you.”

“Not doing what? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t have hookups around the kids.”

He leaps off the side of the truck. “She’s the nanny and a friend, okay? Lay off.”

“Are you kidding me?” she shrieks, making me flinch. “How clichéd can you get? Are you seriously fucking the nanny?”

Embarrassment scorches my skin that already feels so brittle it might crack.

Logan wraps his arm around my shoulder and steers me toward the house. “You probably don’t want to be around for this. It’s gonna get ugly.”

Understatement of the year, I think with my heart in my throat as I walk away.



* * *



Hunched over the bathroom sink, I stare at my dirty feet, wishing I’d been wearing shoes when I slunk from Ethan’s truck to the house.

All those warnings from my mother come rushing back to me. ?Quieres que te llamen una callejera? Do you want them to call you a stray? Or the more insidious definition of callejera, street walker.

It’s always “them” with my mom. Meaning the neighbors or my school mates. People at church. Anyone who could witness my reproachable behavior. Them.

She’d be mortified if she ever found out about this morning.

Braving a glance, I finally look into the mirror and cringe.

My eyes are bloodshot, that smokey makeup I applied yesterday sits like sludge beneath my lower lashes, and my hair looks like an F4 tornado blasted through it.

Awesome first impression, Victoria. No wonder Allison hates you.

As quickly as my churning stomach allows, I crawl in the shower and wash my hair, desperately trying to scrub off all traces of last night.

By the time I’m dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, the house is still eerily quiet.

With sudden clarity, the reality of what happened this morning slams into me.

Will Ethan regret last night? Will he change his mind about us?

A sad laugh escapes me. It’s too early for there to be an us.

Despite what my silly heart wants to lament, I should be worried Allison will make Ethan fire me.

See, tontita, this is why you don’t hook up with your employer.

The thought makes me pause because Ethan doesn’t feel like my boss exactly. I mean, I work hard around here, but I like him and his family, and he really does feel like a friend at this point. And, hell yeah, I like him as more than a friend.

Standing in the doorway of my room, I force myself to bite the bullet and see what kind of fallout happened after I returned to the house.

I find Ethan leaning against the kitchen counter. Shoulders slumped, head down, he looks deep in thought. Off to the side, Mila’s coloring at the table. Her eyes are puffy, and her cheeks are flushed.

“Hey. Where’s Cody?” I ask softly, afraid that a loud sound will shatter whatever fragile state they’re in.

I park myself next to Mila, and she immediately hops out of her seat and into my lap.

When I kiss the top of her head, it’s hard to miss the fact no one brushed her hair this morning. “Hey, honey. Did you have a good time with your momma?”

She shrugs and wipes her eyes. Although Allison’s Lexus was parked a decent distance from the truck—I could barely see it along the side of the house when I came in—I’m guessing Mila and her brother were still in the back seat. Based on Mila’s expression, she probably heard everyone yelling.

Ethan clears his throat, still not looking at me. “Cody’s with Logan. They’ll be back soon.”

Hugging Mila, I ask her if she’s hungry, but all she does is sniffle.

When Ethan finally turns and we make eye contact, I mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

God, I am. Sorry for not coming in the house last night when he suggested it. For not getting up earlier this morning. For opening my mouth around Allison.

Let’s not forget the underwear.

Hot shame burns my skin as this morning replays on fast-forward through my mind.

Ethan gives me a tight-lipped shake of his head, and I’m not totally sure what it means, but I do know this family has been through too much this morning to worry about me. He might fire me as soon as he’s done with his cup of coffee, and that would hurt, but I’d understand.

Right now, though, nothing is more important than cheering up the little girl in my arms, so I swallow back the thick knot of embarrassment.