Page 17 of The Last Thing
I shake my head. “We didn’t exchange contact info. Or even full names, just silly nicknames.”
“Shit.”
I shrug. “It sucks because I don’t want to be the mom depriving a kid of having their dad in their life, but I’m not ready to dig through some social media black hole in an attempt to find him. I need to breathe first.” I drop my head into my hands, groaning. “Find a job so I can afford to pay for a baby.”
“About that. Frannie mentioned she might have a job for you. Either way, you should call her, but if she does… maybe you should think about it.”
I look around the apartment. I have no idea what living in a small town would be like or if I’d enjoy it, but it’s never been about the place.
Frannie would be right there.
Justin would be close.
I rest my hand on my stomach.
Maybe this is a sign to start a whole new chapter. A fresh page for whatever comes next.
I didn’t throwup the fries and milkshake, so they’re all I want to eat now. Thankfully, grocery delivery exists, and I got some milk, vanilla ice cream, and frozen fries to cook up.
Hardy, surprisingly, let me off the hook and didn’t push me to talk, but I think that may have been because of the stern look Brian gave him. Brian, unsurprisingly, kept my secret.
I’m still not ready to tell Frannie. Not about the baby. But… if she thinks there’s a job for me in Ida, I want to hear about it. At the very least, I’m going to visit her for a bit.
I don’t have to worry about paying rent since my parents own the building I live in, so I can float by for a little longer without stressing about a job.
When I push the call button next to Frannie’s name, it only rings once before she answers.
“You’re alive!”
“For the moment.”
“Hallie.”
“What? I’m fine. You worry too much.”
“Says the person who threatened to call Jack Bauer when I didn’t answer fast enough on vacation with Mark.”
“We didn’t know he wasn’t a serial killer yet.”
“Well, you could’ve been mugged or drugged or chopped into bits.”
I laugh at that. “Have you been reading murder mysteries again?”
“Sorry I care.”
“I’m okay. Just been in my feelings for the last few days.”
“Anything job or no-job related?” she asks, sounding hopeful.
So I lean into it. “A bit. It sucks that I can’t find anything.”
“Well, I might have the perfect solution… if you’re willing to move to Ida.”
“Ida, huh?”
“Our new downstairs tenant needs sort of a babysitter/housekeeper combo. Not in a pristine white-glove housekeeping kind of way, but someone to make sure the apartment stays generally clean, can cook meals, and look after his eight-year-old before she goes to school in the morning and after school before he gets home from work. And since you could move into the apartment directly across the hall from them, it would be very convenient.”
“You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
