Page 23 of Give & Take

And still she hasn’t called. My phone is hot from me turning the screen on every five seconds to make sure it’s working properly. It is. Lana just hasn’t called.

For the first time in a long time, I’m starting to doubt myself.

I went too far. It’s true, messing with the other interviewees was a risk. But I stand by what I said—that if they couldn’t make it through ridiculous comments from Nova ahead of the interview, they wouldn’t last a week with her if they got the job.

But maybe I didn’t read Lana the way I thought I had. I showed myself like an open book and she still hated me.

That one’s too painful to sit with. So I don’t. I pause, running my hand through my hair.

Then I go inside and hand Nate my phone. “Just keep it for me, okay?” I tell him at his door. “Tell me if anyone calls.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but promises he’ll call for me if my phone starts ringing. His room’s not exactly close to mine, but I prop open the patio door, and my door outside, and hope for the best.

It’s all I can do. I don’tneedthis job. I can go back to Vancouver. I could return to Cali if I wanted to.

But goddamn, I’ve never wanted to stay somewhere more.

I grip the deck’s railing and take a bracing, salty breath. I need to remember myself. Hold onto nothing, not even a beautiful woman with so many tightly bound layers she’d put an onion to shame.

I head into my room, pulling my leather-bound sketchpad/notebook out of my back pocket. The little book is what I use whenever I’m stuck—with an idea or a feeling. I use it when a thought comes up when I’m reading, or sometimes just to draw. It’s got no lines—no constrictions at all in its weighted pages.

Today, I start to draw. My hand moves as if I’m not the one controlling it. I sketch out a face: a woman with almost haunting pale eyes and soft hair that falls in waves around her face. A slash of brows and a tight mouth, with lips curling just the slightest bit upward.

It’s all wrong. She hasn’t smiled at me.

I toss the book aside, pressing my palms to my forehead. “Fuck.” I need to start thinking about booking my travel back down to Vancouver. I?—

“Raph—!”

I’ve vaulted off the bed before the kid’s finished yelling my name. I sprint across the deck, through the house, and am up the stairs by the third ring.

“Thanks, man,” I breathe, catching the phone as he tosses it.

It’s probably going to be someone other than Lana. Dee maybe. A brother. Some perfectly nice girl I forgot has my number.

I answer as casually as if I’m relaxing on the couch, not even a bit out of breath. “Raph here.”

There’s a long pause. Then, “Hello, Raphael.”

The words are neutral. The tone is tight and professional. But they’re the sweetest two words I’ve ever heard, in the sexiest fucking voice known to mankind.

“Hello, Lana.”

“There’s no easy way to say this, for me, but your references were exceptional. If you’re still interested in the nannying job, it’s yours.”

My grin could power the whole fucking electrical grid of this town.

Chapter 8

Raphael

The following Monday I show up at Lana’s pretty little small-town house at a quarter to eight—fifteen minutes before I’m set to start. I’m freshly showered, dressed in a t-shirt and khaki shorts, ready to take on the world.

Nova and Aurora are waiting for me on the porch. Aurora jumps up and down, shrieking my name while running down the walk. Nova, meanwhile, acts all cool, her hands in her pockets at the top of the stairs. But her face is lit up like she’s trying hard not to smile. And when I look up at her, giving her a fist-pump of victory, she does. She turns into a beaming ray of sunshine.

I wonder if that’s what her Mom’s smile looks like. I’ve yet to be blessed. I’m dying to be blessed. I’m going to make it my new goal in life.

“What’s up, Roro!” I say, high-tenning Aurora. To both, I ask, “You guys ready for the best summer of our entire lives?”

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