Page 69 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
I frowned and pulled it out.
You’ve received a transfer.
“Hazel!”
“Flora!”
“You didn’t have to pay me back!” Two thousand dollars had just landed in my account. “I told you, that was a gift. Where did you even–”
“I told you I would pay you back when I borrowed it,” Hazel said, tilting her chin up. Her hair was paler than mine, almost blonde, and her eyes were greenish–hazel–rather than blue, but in certain expressions I saw my younger self. “I just got paid for a gig I did. Asociety party,” she said, scrunching her fingers into quotation marks. “You wouldn’t believe the amount they spent oncream puffs alone.” I thought of the checks that Ryan had cut me without a second thought. Some of that summer job money had been socked away in my rainy day fund, and I’d been able to save more this school year. And now two thousand dollars I had never expected to see again... I would put it in my savings account earmarked for the next time I could help Hazel out, I determined.
“I believe it,” I said. “Congratulations, Hazel. You worked really hard, and it’s paying off.”
“Thanks,Mom,” she said, and I smiled.
“Whatever.”
She sank her fork into the cake, slicing neatly through the layer of cream cheese frosting, taking a contemplative bite.
“Good?” I asked, and she nodded thoughtfully.
“Good.”
“Not as good as yours?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Not as good as mine.” She took another bite, chewing slowly. “I like the–hmm, cardamom?–though.” I tasted it. It was good, even if I couldn’t tell cardamom from cloves. “I have something else to celebrate. I mean,somethingto celebrate, not somethingelse. I wouldn’t considergiving my sister a bunch of money I owed hernecessarily celebration-worthy,” she said, frowning and wrinkling her nose in mock disgust.
“For me it is,” I laughed, and took another bite of cake. “But fine. What’s the occasion?”
“The party I did this weekend? They hired me for another event. A wedding. They want me to do the whole thing: hors d’oeuvres, dinner, and… thecake.”
“What?” I shriek-whispered, “Hazel!That’samazing!”
“I know!” she squealed. “But that’s not even the best part! Iknow,” she said, interrupting me before I had a chance to protest. “What could be better than cake? But!” She leaned forward, sharing a secret. “This wedding? It’s going to be in theNew. York. Week!”
“Oh my god!” I said. I’d sworn off reading theNew York Weekafter they ran a libelous article about Edie and her now-husband last year, but I’d been a casual reader of the city’s glossy “society” magazine for years before that, and I knew the type of weddings that graced its pages. Beautiful, expensive people in beautiful, expensive clothing, dancing and posing for the camera, with inset photos of the individually hand-painted, calligraphy-covered invitations, the bride’s limited edition designer heels, the elaborate, multi-tiered cake… My mouth dropped open. “Oh mygod, Hazel, your cake!”
“I know!” Her eyes were shining, her cheeks pink, and excitement radiated off of her. “My cake is going to be in theWeek! They won’t have a wedding spread without a picture of the cake. It’sliterally impossible. And Flora, I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without you. That two thousand dollars…”
“Don’t eventhinkabout thanking me,” I said. “This was all you. Those biscotti were magic.”
She sat back in her chair, cradling her to-go cup in her hands.
“Thank you,” she said. “For thecoffee,” she added slyly.
“Okay. That’s acceptable.”
We parted ways soon after, her to her place, me to mine. It was dark by the time I emerged at my subway stop, and darker still in my apartment, and immediately the loneliness began to creep in as it did every night. I texted Edie–we’re still on for tomorrow night?–and got back ayes!! I’ll bring wine, do you want me to pick up food on the way?and we chatted back and forth for a while about our plans. Thai, as usual, and white wine. Pinot grigio, or sauvignon blanc?Whatever you’re feeling!I sent back, flopping onto the couch with a sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I’d been eating lunch in the cafeteria–school lunches weregoodon the Upper East Side, it turned out–and kept forgetting to get groceries for dinners.
See you then!Edie said with a cheers emoji, and my phone fell silent after that. She was probably eating dinner with James.
The loneliness returned, swelling up from my chest until it clung to the roof of my mouth like the peanut butter on my sandwich. I had grading to do–I’d do that, and then it would be almost time for bed. I’d read a book for a bit, and go to sleep. On second thought, tomorrow was my four-month review with the principal. Did I need to prepare anything? Maybe I should look over my teacher portal…
I corrected essays robotically, my mind drifting ahead to tomorrow morning before returning to the well-trod track that I’d been stuck on since summer. I was happy, wasn’t I? I had a job I loved. I had an apartment, and a comfortable amount in my bank account. I had Edie. Edie was happy. I had Hazel, and Hazel was happy. I got to see Maddie, and Maddie was happy. I was happy, I told myself as I brushed my teeth. Ishouldbe happy, I thought as I put cream under my eyes. I hadn’t been sleeping well, and the dark circles under my eyes were at risk of becoming permanent, what with my early mornings. Ihad to behappy, I reminded myself as I shut off my lamp. This was what I had wanted.
But late at night, when my apartment was dark and the noisy old radiator couldn’t quite keep out the January chill, I would pull my blankets up and over shaking shoulders and I couldn’t help but wish for the humid fug of July in the city. For warm brown eyes and a low, rich voice that reminded me, over and over andover:Anything you want.
I knew what I wanted now.
