Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“The pretty nanny he rejected,” said Mabel. “She was supposed to get married today, but she found out he was cheating on her, so she left the jerk at the altar.”
“But first she kicked him in the face!” Adelaide shouted, repeating Veronica’s spin-and-kick move, but a lot less gracefully. “Hi-yah!”
“No shit.” Xander looked impressed.
“I’ll handle this.” I strode out of the garage, but of course, Xander followed me. “I said, I’ll handle this,” I told him over my shoulder.
“But I want to see the pretty bride lady,” Xander said, pausing only to scoop Adelaide under his arm and carry her, giggling, back to the house.
“I’m coming too,” Mabel said, running ahead of me and reaching the back door first.
Right then, I envied Veronica being an only child.
FIVE
veronica
I did not want to go back to the Buckley house.
After Austin had said thank you, next—actually it was more like fuck you, no—I’d grabbed my purse and hightailed it out of their living room as quickly as I could. I could see that Mabel felt just as terrible as I did. The kids, who’d been sitting side by side on the same step, listening to everything, waved goodbye to me with sad faces.
“I wish you could be our nanny,” Adelaide had said.
“Me too,” echoed her brother.
For the first time, I thought about how much fun the job would have been and really regretted blowing it. I could have spent my summer in this charming, friendly little town, hanging out with those adorable kids on the beach, riding bikes, getting ice cream, eating fudge. We could have done crafts and colored. Baked birthday cakes and eaten batter from the bowl. Made up dances and put on shows in the backyard. I actually loved kids—I wanted my own someday.
Dammit, I could have been a good nanny! That uptight jerk hadn’t even given me a chance. And did he even know how to smile?
As I plodded toward the inn, which, according to my nearly dead phone, was one mile across town, the adrenaline that had gotten me through the day was starting to fade. I swallowed hard several times, but the lump in my throat stubbornly refused to dissipate. Tears welled in my eyes. I took a few deep breaths and concentrated on picking out different scents in the air—fudge, the bay, the lilac bushes in someone’s front yard. I nearly had my emotions under control when my phone buzzed in my bag.
It was Morgan.
“Well?” she squealed. “What’s the news? Are you Mrs. Veronica Vanderhoof?”
“Actually, no. I’m not.” God, it felt so good to say that.
Silence. And then, “Wait. What?”
“I didn’t marry him.”
More silence. “Are you being serious?”
“Yes.”
“Halle-fucking-lujah! But are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I took a breath. “Or I will be. I think I’m still in shock.”
“What happened?”
“About half an hour before the ceremony, he sent me a sext meant for someone else.”
“Who’s the someone else?” Morgan didn’t sound surprised.
“Valerie. His assistant. He must have hit the letter V in his phone and not paid attention to whose name actually came up.”
“That is because you were engaged to a complete fuckwit jackass who does not and never has deserved you,” said Morgan, “but go on. I’ll try to reserve additional judgment until the end.”
“It seems like they might have been, um, together last night.”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe Valerie is staying at the family’s vacation house. Or maybe he went to her hotel room. I stayed by myself at the inn you and I’d planned to stay at.”
Morgan groaned. “God, Roni, I’m so sorry I’m not there. My baby had some nerve arriving so soon. I’ve never been early for anything in my life! He must get that from Jake.”
I had to smile, remembering all the call times Morgan had nearly missed during our days as Rockettes together. “How’s the baby doing?”
“Good.” Morgan’s voice warmed. “He’s out of the NICU, breathing pretty well on his own and eating okay. The doctor is cautiously optimistic we can take him home within the week.”
“That’s awesome. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Do it. Run away. Get on a plane back to New York right the fuck now.”
“And do what? Live where?” I turned a corner and trudged further up the hill toward the Cherry Blossom Inn. “How would I even get on a plane? I have no money that’s not his, and I refuse to spend one more Vanderhoof dime.”
“He owes you, Roni. We can find you a job. You can live here.”
“In your one-bedroom apartment with your husband and newborn?” Morgan had married a talented composer and music director, but even their combined incomes didn’t stretch very far in terms of Manhattan rent, and their place was small. “No way. I am not intruding on you guys.”
“Here’s what you do.” She continued like I hadn’t spoken. “You go to the bank ASAP and drain every account you can—savings and checking. Then you—”