The Nanny

by Lana Ferguson

I don’t say anything more as I watch him leave the kitchen, and I might be embarrassed by the way I’m watching him, if not for the fact that I catch him peeking back at me one last time before starting to climb the stairs.

“Because I shouldn’t be thinking about you as much as I do.”

“Be good, Cassie. You have to be good so I can fuck you.”

I’m trying to pull myself out of my gloomy mood by blasting Taylor Swift’s entire discography on the drive to the restaurant, but even my Spotify seems to be against me today, playing entirely too much evermore and not nearly enough Red. It’s like the universe wants me to cry today.

“Are you offering me another job?” “No.” He shakes his head, leaning in so that his lips hover inches from mine. “I’m offering you my whole damned life, if you want it.”