Page 9 of If Love Had A Manual

My chest tightens. I don’t have words for that kind of loss, not ones that would help anyway.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to say because I don’t have any other words.

I’m not sure why he’s telling me all this. He doesn’t have to.

Maybe it’s intentional. Perhaps he’s trying to see if I’ll spook and run.

Sorry, big guy. Trauma is my default setting. You’ll need to try a lot harder than that.

“I’ve never hired a nanny before,” he says. “It’s mostly nine to five, but I’ve got my own business. Sometimes I get pulled in different directions. You’ll need to be flexible.”

Well, I mean, I can almost put my legs behind my ears.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It’s the eyes. That’s the problem.

They’re this dark, stormy brown, not broody but intense. Like he sees things and catalogs them, and it’s making me nervous.

And now I’ve just mentally offered him a yoga demonstration.

Focus, Lena. You don’t want to go back to waiting tables.

Blowing out an unsteady breath, I do my best to concentrate.

“I could tell you about my experience?” I offer justto avoid dying from awkwardness. “My education?”

His shoulders visibly relax. “Great. Go ahead.”

I shift on the couch and start in, giving him the usual rundown—degree in early childhood education, years of hands-on work since I was sixteen, everything from daycares and after-school programs to part-time nanny gigs.

“I love kids,” I continue. “I love helping them grow. Especially little ones like Rosie.”

“Are you comfortable with a one-year-old?”

“Absolutely.”

“You said you’ve got three younger siblings?”

“Yep.” I give him a small grin. “It was chaos on a good day. This place?” I gesture to the scattered baby toys. “Looks downright tidy in comparison.”

Wes laughs…I think. It’s so quick and so quiet, I almost miss it.

“I need to ask you something else,” he says.

I brace for a question about references or CPR certifications.

“Where do you see yourself in a year?”

A year? That’s not a question I was prepared for.

“Excuse me?”

“A year from now.” He taps his knee. “Any plans to move? Go back to school? Start something new?”

“I mean, not really,” I say slowly. “Why?”

“I can’t ask someone to give up their life for this, but I also can’t bring someone in who treats it like a temp job. Rosie needs someone who’s going to show up. If you’re in, be in. If you’re not sure, I get it. That’s why I’m offering a trial period. But after that, I need you all the way.”

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