I didn’t take a photo but I did whisper the words that were in my heart. I love you.
It was the only time I’d been honest with him, and myself. Even a month later I couldn’t say the words out loud for a million reasons that used to make sense. This meant I was alone in my office and I couldn’t focus on anything but the letter perched on the corner of my desk. That damned piece of paper was the reason my chest was tight with the crushing inevitability of my heart breaking. Across the front of the envelope Paul had written my name in beautiful cursive and the edges of it were ragged where I’d opened it, thinking it was nothing more sinister than one of his homemade Christmas cards, like the ones he made with the children. But it wasn’t a card covered in glitter, or embellished with feathers, it was his resignation letter. Even though I’d known that the two years he’d promised me were almost up, I’d ignored the fact because maybe if I refused to acknowledge he was getting ready to leave, then it might not happen.
I’d memorized every word Paul had written, from the Dear Austin, right down to the Best wishes, Paul and even the part where he thanked me for the wonderful opportunity I’d given him.
He’d left it on the counter three days ago, right next to the coffee he’d made, and the muffin he’d baked fresh for me, and I’d been in a daze ever since.
“Oh babe, why are you still here?” Maria’s question scared the living shit out of me, and I yelped and nearly fell off my office chair, clutching my heart and scrambling to face her.
“Holy—warn a guy!”
She switched on my office light and I blinked into the brightness. “Austin, sitting in the dark won’t solve anything.”
I knew that. “I was working on—”
“You’re not working, you’re hiding.” She leaned on the edge of my desk, conveniently hip-checking the envelope and its contents to the floor before pushing it with her toe out of sight. Part of me died inside, because I wanted to keep that letter after he’d gone, because he’d written it with one of his fancy art pens, and I could picture him sitting and composing the words. She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at me pointedly.
I went on the defensive. “I’m here because the kids are working on a surprise for me, and Paul made me promise not to be anywhere near the kitchen before five,” I scooped up the papers on my desk and shoved them all into my bag. With nothing else to do, and January far too close, I knew I had to start planning for a future without Paul, and these were supposed to be informed and researched lists of nanny agencies. Only the exercise had deteriorated into me doodling hearts. So much for admitting he was leaving and that I needed to replace him.
She sighed noisily then flicked my forehead which—dammit—hurt. “It’s nearly five now, Austin, you idiot.”
“Huh?” I glanced at the clock, and it hit me that I’d lost my chance of being home by five if the traffic on the freeway didn’t cut me a break. It’s December twenty-third; of course there will be no break cut for late-ass architects who don’t watch the time. “Shit.”
“When Paul said leave the kitchen, did he really mean for you to come to work? Why didn’t you just go up to your room and read a book? No one else is working today, so why drive twenty miles across town to the office?”
Because I can’t bear being in the house listening to the kids laugh with Paul over Christmas cookies and glitter, that’s why. I snapped the fastening on my bag and changed the subject. “You’re here.”
“Yes, because we agreed I would check in with the office today because it’s my turn. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be on official vacation.”
“I have three whole days when I’m not working—”
She snatched the bag from my hand, and shoved me toward the door.
“Three days off and you don’t need to take work home.”
“The Griersons—”
“Are in Barbados, and don’t need to see any plans until January. You weren’t working on their file anyway, you were sitting like a mushroom in the dark and pining over the only man you’ve ever really loved, and you won’t do anything to stop him leaving.”
I winced. “I was not pining, for goodness sake.”
I held out my hand for the bag, but she put it behind her back. “Yes you were.”
“Give me the bag, Maria—”
“Nope.”
“My cell is in there,” I lied.
She pointed to my pants pocket where the outline of my iPhone was very clear. “No it isn’t. So, go home, kiss your babies, have a drink with Paul, hell, talk to Paul, tell him how you feel, ask him to stay. Then when he says yes, have the best Christmas in the history of Christmases.”
“Maria—”
“You need to be honest. With him and yourself.”
I picked up the letter and pocketed it. “I am being honest. He has these amazing plans to travel the world, and I always knew he would be leaving—in the very first interview he said he could only give me two years, that he was saving money to travel.”
“You could stop him with three little words.”
I ignored her. “He wants to see Iceland; did you know that?”
“No I didn’t.”
“It’s top of his list. He wants to see Eyjafjallajökull.”
She frowned at my mangled pronunciation “He wants to what now?”
I knew I hadn’t pronounced the name right but it didn’t matter that I’d been practicing how to say it so that I sounded to Paul as if I was taking an educated interest.
“It’s a volcano, in Iceland.”
She squeezed my arm. “How did the kids take the news when you told them they would need a new nanny?”
I curled in on myself. Anna, AJ and Aden were everything to me, and when Paul had started working for me they’d been six months old, so I hadn’t told them then, obviously. Then they fell in love with him as much as I had, and suddenly there was no way to explain to three toddlers that their nanny and best friend was leaving.
“The kids don’t know yet.” My voice was small. “I should have been explaining to them how Paul was only here for two years, that he had plans, but I never did. I’ve ruined everything, I fell in love with him, he’ll be gone, the kids will hate me, and I’ll have to find someone else, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.
“Oh, Austin.” She hugged me but I didn’t let it go on for too long.
“I’m good,” I interrupted her before she could be any nicer to me. This was a situation of my own making. I’d hired him, he’d told me he’d leave at some point but, even knowing that, I still fell stupidly in love. I shrugged on my jacket to leave, but she tugged me a standstill.
“No, you’re not, goof. Now’s the time to tell Paul how you feel and ask him to stay.”
“I can’t do that, it’s not fair to him when he has a lifetime of plans.”
“What if his priorities have changed? It’s been two years he’s worked for you, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him. It’s so obvious—”
“Clearly his priorities haven’t changed because his resignation letter is very clear.” Even saying the words made my chest tighten again. I’d let myself forget that his time with me had an end date, fooled myself into thinking that he would never leave me and the triplets.