Charlie

I sat at my desk the next afternoon, feeling like a stranger, feeling split. There were two versions of me—before Hannah and after Hannah—and the version whose chair I sat in had become so foreign to me, I didn’t even recognize him anymore.

The other version of me, the version I wanted to be, was focused only on the kids, on Hannah. The afternoon before replayed in my mind over and over—from the moment I’d heard the paralyzing fear in Hannah’s voice to the moment I’d slipped into sleep with her arms around me and her heart wounded, my children safe in their beds.

But questions plagued me, worry occupying every thought. Would Mary show up again? Would she leave us alone? Would it ever be over? Were the kids safe? Was Hannah safe?

I’d removed Mary’s name from the daycare list with the help of my custody ruling, and I’d called to have the locks changed, which helped my peace of mind. Just not enough. Not enough to allow me to pretend I was all right with leaving them.

Hannah had said they’d be safe at school with Mary’s name off the list. And she’d assured me that she and I were fine, that we’d be all right.

I wanted to believe both things were true, but I didn’t, and there was nothing anyone could say to convince me.

Everything felt wrong, as if I’d taken a turn onto a street I didn’t recognize.

As I sat there with my imagination running away from me in the last place I wanted to be in the entire world, I couldn’t find a way to believe it was all right. I couldn’t find a way to stop the chugging anxiety, the circle of thoughts. My eyes stared through my computer, the alerts from my emails unnoticed as they dinged and animated the top of the screen. My phone rang, but I barely heard it. Someone walked by, calling me in for a meeting. I didn’t look up.

Everything was wrong, I realized. And I had to fix it.

There was only one way, and decision and action rose in my chest.

What I wanted was at my fingertips, and I could have it.

All I had to do was reach out and grab it.

The old version of myself didn’t even put up a fight, just stepped aside. Because I knew what I wanted, and I knew how to get it.

I wanted to be home with my family. I wanted to protect them. I wanted to give them my time and my love. And I couldn’t do any of that from the cubicle where I sat with my phone ringing endlessly on my desk.

I gathered my things, assessing my finances in my head. I wrote an email to my boss and resigned. I stood and pulled on my coat, ignoring my colleagues as they passed by my desk, staring. I never picked up my phone.

Instead, I walked out of the room, out of the building, away from my old life and into my new one.

With every step, I felt the weight slip off my shoulders. With every block, I thought of Hannah and the life I wanted, the life I wished for. As I ran down the subway steps, my smile stretched so wide, my cheeks hurt.

Because I was going to do what my heart wanted. And there was only one person who I wanted to tell. I wanted to tell the girl who had changed my whole life from the second she walked through the door and showed me what love could be.

I wanted to tell Hannah, and I wanted to ask her to stay with me. Not as my au pair and not for the kids.

For me.

* * *

Hannah

Katie and I parted ways at the sidewalk outside the house with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to see each other after the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. The days were growing shorter, the sun slipping away earlier and earlier, painting the sky in fiery colors that matched the leaves left on the trees.

I kept myself busy rather than think too much over everything between me and Charlie or Charlie and Mary, instead spending the day preparing for Thanksgiving, which was the next day. Katie would be off; the kids out of school; Charlie away from work. And we had a long weekend ahead of us with food and togetherness. And I was looking forward to it, hoping we could begin to mend the fissures between us.

But the silly, foolish girl in me hadn’t quite gone; she’d just been hiding. And the moment I felt hope was the moment I was reminded that hope was a trap.

Mary was leaning against the brick wall outside of the school, watching me with her hands in her jacket pockets and her ankles crossed in front of her. The sight of her sent adrenaline racing through me and my heart knocking against my ribs in warning.

But I held my chin up, setting my jaw. “Hello, Mary,” I said flatly as I approached and stopped in front of her.

She watched me for a moment.

“I can’t quite imagine that you have nothing to say, so go ahead and say it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “They wouldn’t let me pick up the kids.”

“It’s not my doing.”

“No, it’s not. You don’t have any rights,” she said, as if I didn’t know.

“He doesn’t want to keep you from them. You must know that.”

She shrugged, not meaning it. “He told me he’d keep me from them unless I worked with his lawyer. He also told me to stay away from you. I almost believed he actually cares about you.”

I stood a little taller against the jab but didn’t speak.

“I hope you enjoy playing house with my family. You can be the pretend mommy to my kids and the make-believe wifey to Charlie. But they’ll never be yours, not really.”

“I don’t know that they’ll ever be yours either. At least one of us knows it.”

Her lips flattened. “Live it up while it lasts, pretty little nanny. Because it won’t last long.”

I held her eyes for a drawn-out second. “Anything else?”

She pushed off the wall. “I’ll see you around. Same time, same place?”

Everything about her was tight and hurt, wounded and angry, and I realized it then, understood the flint in her eyes and forgave her for it. I didn’t like her—I never would; we would never be friends—but I forgave her.

“I’m sorry you’re unhappy,” I said quietly, sincerely.

Mary froze, her eyes hard as diamonds. “You don’t get to feel sorry for me. You have no idea who I am or what I’ve been through.”

“It doesn’t matter. I just hope you find a way through it.”

“Well, aren’t you just a fucking angel?” she shot, though her voice shook just a little. “How does the world look from up there on your high horse?”

I shook my head. “Mary, I don’t want to hurt you. None of us wants to hurt you.”

“Too fucking late,” she said as she blew past me and away.

It wasn’t until she was gone and I’d made my way inside that the initial shock wore off, leaving me with the fear and anxiety that seemed to always follow encounters with Mary. She’d come for the children again and waited for me, waited just to hurt me, told me without completely saying so that she’d do it again.

She wanted to hurt me because hurting me would hurt Charlie. She wanted to hurt me because she saw me as a threat. She wanted to hurt me because she was hurt.

I was shaken, gathering the children and signing them out, talking to Sammy as if nothing were wrong, as if it were a normal day. I thought Maven might know different. She asked me to hold her, and when I picked her up, she wrapped her little arms around my neck and hung on to me, the comfort and warmth of her so overwhelming, it took everything I had to stave off my tears.

I was so lost in emotion that I didn’t hear my name, not at first. The second time he said it, a chill worked down my spine.

I turned to the sound, finding Quinton trotting across the street toward me.

The blood rushed from my face; I knew because it tingled, prickling cold splotches across my skin.

He was tall, dark, gorgeous. Dangerous with that razor-sharp smile.

“Hey, Hannah,” he said when he reached me, stopping close to me, too close.

I took a step back, trying to move around him. “I’m sorry. I’m in a hurry,” I said, shaken and desperate to leave, to get home where it was safe.

But he moved to block me. “Come on, Hannah. You don’t even have a minute?”

“No, I don’t.” I tried to step around him again, but he wouldn’t let me. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He reached for my arm. “I think you know. I’ve missed you.”

I jerked away, but he didn’t let me go. Sammy squeezed my hand.

“Please, leave me alone. Let me take the children home.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

I glared at him, fighting back tears. “My answer hasn’t changed, and it won’t. I’m with someone.”

His dark eyes rolled with thunder. “The blond? Your boss?”

My panic rose with the bile in my throat. He’d seen us. He’d followed me.

“Hannah?” Sammy asked, his voice small and afraid.

I looked down at him, squeezed his hand. “It’s all right. We’re just going.”

But when I tried to pull away from Quinton again, he wrenched me into his chest.

“Tell me,” he said through his teeth. “Is it him?”

“Yes,” I answered with more strength than I felt.

Everything about him hardened—his eyes, his jaw, his lips, his fingers digging into my arm. “So, you cock-tease all your bosses, is that it?”

“Do you harass all of your au pairs?” I shot.

“No, only you.”

I twisted away, but he grabbed my other arm like a vise, holding me still.

“Let me go.”

“I wonder what the agency would think about you and your new boss.”

“Go ahead and tell them,” I spat. “Just leave me alone.”

And I was so overwhelmed, so wholly focused on my escape, that I never saw him coming.

* * *

Charlie

I didn’t think—there was no time.

The second I saw the way he had ahold of her, when I caught a glimpse of that tall bastard with his hands on her, with my kids between them, I snapped, panic and fear and anger boiling up in me like a furnace.

I bolted toward them, reaching them before either registered my approach. But when he did, his face flashed in surprise, and he loosened his grip enough for Hannah to rip one arm away.

I wedged myself between them, looking down at him with so much rage, I thought I might combust.

“Get your goddamn hands off her.” I bit out the words, my nerves firing and fists squeezed tight.

The minute he let her go, I shoved him away from her with enough force to send him wheeling back a few steps.

When he found his footing, he straightened up, smoothing the front of his suit coat.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, shielding Hannah and the kids with my body.

He smiled, a smug, cruel expression. “Hannah didn’t tell you about me? Before she was with you, she was with me.”

Fury flared hot and desperate, betrayal crackling at the wavering edge. “Hannah, take the kids and leave.”

“Charlie—”

My eyes were on his. “Hannah,” I warned, and I felt her step back. “Now, what the fuck do you want?”

He watched her; she hadn’t left. I could feel fear radiating off her and knew she wouldn’t go without me.

“Just wanted to see our girl here,” the asshole said when he finally looked at me. “Things haven’t been the same without her. She does that to a man. Know what I mean?”

My stomach heaved, my lungs emptying like I’d been hit.

“I didn’t, Charlie. I never—” she stammered from behind me.

“You know,” he kept going, his voice hard and body squared, “Hannah and I bump into each other all the time. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you about me.”

Realization washed over me, pulling me under.

And he saw it in my face, his smile widening as he goaded me. “She’s too pretty, too sweet, too innocent for me to let her go without a fight. She’s irresistible, just like her cakes and cookies. I know I couldn’t help myself; it’s no wonder you couldn’t either.”

Two steps, and I had him by the shirt. “Shut the fuck up,” I hissed, the words wavering.

But he laughed. “Sorry, Charlie. You’re not the first. I doubt you’ll be the last.”

With a roar, I cocked my fist and let it fly, connecting with his jaw with a crunch of my fingers and a smack of skin.

He reeled back, hand shooting to his face. The burning in my hand traveled all the way up to my elbow, every bone in my fingers screaming.

“You stay the fuck away from her,” I shot, punctuating the command with a jab of my finger.

He held his jaw and spit a gob of blood on the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” she cried at him from behind me.

His eyes moved to her and changed, darkened, pinned her down. “I’m not accustomed to being told no.”

I took a step toward him. “Well, get used to it. Now get the fuck out of here.”

He stood for a long moment, sizing me up as I fumed, chest heaving, nostrils flaring, my blazing hand begging through the pain to hit him again. And he must have seen it.

He rolled his shoulders to adjust his coat, as if it were a board meeting rather than an assault on the street. And with a last look at Hannah—a look that sent an icy chill up my back and to my hackles—he turned and walked away.

I waited until he was across the street and half a block away before I found the will to turn around. The heat of my anger had burned down, leaving nothing but cold ashes.

Hannah was crying, and so were the kids.

I bent to Sammy and pulled him into my arms. “You okay, bud?”

He nodded. I stood, holding him into my side, reaching for Maven.

I didn’t touch Hannah.

“Are you all right?” I asked flatly. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, her eyes down and guilty.

“You lied to me.”

“Charlie, nothing happened.”

“Have you seen him? Since you left?”

She nodded. “Twice. He seemed harmless. I swore I would tell you if I saw him again.”

I took a long breath, my face tight, chest tight. “You’ve shut me out for not telling you about Mary, and now I find out about this? You weren’t home when I came home from work early, so I thought you might be getting the kids. And that was what I found.”

He was touching you. He’d touched you before.

I knew the look on his face because I’d worn it. I knew desire for her because I’d felt it.

I raged on. “Not only did you keep the truth of why you’d left your last job from me, but you also kept the fact that he was stalking you to yourself. I don’t know if you trust me any more than you believe I trust you.”

Pain lit her face. “Charlie, I—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

She jerked back like I’d slapped her, her face paling. “I can’t believe you would ask me that.”

“That’s not an answer,” I snapped. “Is this some sort of game to you? Am I a pattern? A conquest? What?”

“Of course not,” she blustered. “I didn’t sleep with him.”

I looked into her eyes and I wanted to believe her. Deep down, I might have. But in that moment, I could only think of how familiar it all felt. I’d been here before, and it was a place I never wanted to be again, a place I never thought I would be in with Hannah.

Yet here I was.

“Please, tell me you believe me,” she begged, her eyes shining with fresh tears.

“What am I supposed to think, Hannah?”

“You’re supposed to trust me.”

“Like you were supposed to trust me?” I volleyed, my lungs burning and aching. “It’s no wonder you didn’t tell me.”

The blood climbed up her pale neck and to her cheeks. “Like you didn’t tell me about all the times your wife came to see you?”

“That’s different. I wanted to protect you from her.”

“So you say, but you wouldn’t be the first married man who wanted more from me. How am I to know you haven’t been seeing her? She came to the school again today, did you know? She waited for me, humiliated me. She wants you, and she thinks I have you, but now, I’m not so sure.”

It was my turn to be shocked. “I can’t believe you’d say that. I can’t believe you’d think I could want anything to do with her after what you’ve seen, after what she’s done.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, her voice broken. “I can’t believe you don’t believe me when all I’ve ever done is try to make you happy. She hurt you, and I never would. And you know it. You know it. I’ve done nothing but be accepting of your circumstance, but at the first sign of trouble, you accuse me of the worst, jump to conclusions—”

“I’m not jumping to anything. He said—” I tried to say over her, but she didn’t stop.

“It’s not fair, Charlie. I asked you to trust me, and you can’t. Not with Mary, not with this. You’ll believe whatever you want, and maybe it’s just because she broke you beyond what I can mend. But I won’t defend myself against this. Not this.” She took a shuddering breath. “Do you trust me or don’t you? Do you believe I’ve slept with someone else, that my feelings for you are anything but what I’ve said, what I’ve shown you?”

And in my hurt and rage and confusion, I said the last thing I should have. “I don’t know.”

Her chin trembled, brows bent from the weight of her sadness as she drew in a breath. “Then, that’s all there is to say.”

“I guess so,” I said coolly and turned my back on her, my children in hand, leaving her standing on the sidewalk behind me, watching me walk away.