Page 89 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

“We’ll work it out. Bye.” She ends the call.

Andthatis why I’m friends with my ex-wife.

I put my phone away and go downstairs to take a look at the lower level of the house, where the laundry room and my workout area is. There’s room for a workspace for Willa. She could stay in my room and mix her perfumes down here. Or she could turn the guest room into an office. I think it should be pretty easy for her to see that this is a good thing—the early termination of her position as a nanny. She’ll be able to get on with the very important business of creating and selling perfume and being my girlfriend. And sleeping in my bed. Without hiding it from the kids or anyone else.

I can’t fucking wait for her to get home.

Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long.

As soon as she’s through the door from the garage, I take her in my arms.

She drops her purse and wraps her arms around me. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I’m not going to let go of her until sheunderstands that she doesn’t have to leave. “Drop-off went okay?”

“Yeah, I dropped them off at a 7-Eleven. Is that cool? They should be able to find their way to school eventually.” She buries her face in my chest, shaking her head. At least she’s able to make jokes again, even if she doesn’t find them funny.

“They’re really smart. They’ll figure it out. I need to talk to you about something.” When I feel her loosening her grip, I hold on tighter. “Margo called just now. Summer told her about what happened at the garden, and she decided to hire Margarita to start tomorrow. She isn’t mad. She just thinks it would be better if?—”

“I’m going to go to New York for the job interview,” she blurts out. She hugs me so tight, the side of her face flat against my chest. I can’t tell if she’s happy or consoling me or hugging me good-bye.

“What?”

“The lab technician job I told you about last month?” Her voice is shaky now. “There’s still one position left, and they’re holding it for me. There aren’t many people in the US who are as qualified as I am.”

“What about your own business?”

“I’ll close my Etsy store for a few days and then figure things out after the interview.”

“Willa. I want you to know that you can stay here. Even when the new nanny is here. I want you to stay here, if you want to. You can use the guest room as an office, or I’ll set up a workspace for you downstairs.”

She grabs my face and kisses me on the mouth, and as always, I can’t say or do anything other than kiss her. It’s all I want to do. I can feel how hard it is for her to pull away from me when she does, and that’s how Iknow how important it is to her to be able to pull away from me.

“Thank you. I need to go. I have to.” Her eyes are shiny and about to spill over. Uncertainty flickers across her pretty face.

I want to tell her not to go, plead my case. I know exactly what to say and do, how to look at her, the tone of voice to use, to get her to say she’ll stay. God knows, if I were twenty-one and it was just her and me, I probably would. But I don’t want her to resent me for manipulating her. I know why she needs to go. I can’t blow off my work responsibilities today or next week, so I can’t askherto.

She’s a perfumer. It’s what she’s wanted to be since she was twelve. I’m a performer. I’ve been giving things up for my career since I was a child. Even when I have to give up seeing my kids all the time for a few months, it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to see them.

Still.

I don’t want her to choose anything else over me or my kids.

But I have to let her choose.

“It sounds like a great opportunity for you.”

“I think I should say good-bye to the kids tonight instead of in the morning before school.”

Jesus. This girl is giving me whiplash again.

“Yeah. I agree. The kids will miss you. I will miss you.”

“I’ll stay with my brother.”

“But you can always come back here if it doesn’t work out. Or come back just because you want to. Just come back.”

She nods and gulps back some sad little sound,picking her purse up from the floor and running to her room. The door clicking shut echoes all through the house. Just a hint of how empty this place will feel when she’s gone.