"I forgot my bracelet!"

Ari rushed off as fast as a jackrabbit, skidding around the corner and disappearing into the kitchen. Both her and Manon had been gifted a charm bracelet by their mother and me as a reward for being such amazing kids. Elizabeth had been against it at first — "should we really encourage them to stick flags to other people's cars?" — but had eventually caved and come up with the idea herself. We'd picked a book pendant for Manon, a pirate ship for Ari, and a miniature rainbow for both of them. Camille had thrown a tantrum when she realized she wasn't getting one, and it took hours of her sulking before she agreed to speak to anyone again.

She was still salty about it, even now, curling her lip while she zipped up her jacket, not humming like she'd usually be. Spoiled little pumpkin. It wasn't like she hadn't gotten anything, but apparently, the simpler, more indestructible bracelet we gave her wasn't nearly as good. The fact that she had to watch Ari being showered with presents on her seventh birthday a few days ago hadn't helped either.

"Found it! I was so silly. I left it on the couch! Can you believe it?"

Ari had returned, grinning broadly at me. She was already dressed to go, wrapped up in her winter coat and striped tights, skipping in place. The kids were going on a sleepover at their grandparents, something they did once every month. They loved it because the Millers would take them to a theme park or zoo every single time, which was also why I hated it, as I was the one who had to deal with exhausted tiny demons the day after.

"Ari," I said, dragging her name out. I looked down at her pointedly, giving her the 'don't mess with me stare'.

Big eyes with long lashes blinked up at me. "What?"

"Why did you come from the kitchen?"

She lifted her hands in a supposedly innocent gesture. "I was saying goodbye to mom in her office, and I took a shortcut."

Lies, lies, lies. She knew very well her mom would come to see them off before they left, and she absolutely had to work on her poker face. "Empty your pockets."

A deep sigh.

"Now," I added, "or do you want your mom to ask you?"

"Oh, man," she whined, sticking her hand in her pocket. I braced myself. Last time, she'd tried to smuggle a knife to school, claiming she needed it to cut branches into spears, and before that, she'd hidden a bottle of all-purpose cleaner in her backpack, believing she could use it to start a bonfire.

Today, it was a fiery red chili pepper, the kind she'd been after for days now.

I snatched it away from her, struggling to hold back my laughter. "How many times do I have to tell you eating that will burn a hole in your stomach?"

She placed her hands on her hips, eyes tracking my movements as I tucked the pepper safely away in my jeans pocket, no doubt already coming up with a strategy to steal it back. "Manon says that's not true." She stuck out her tongue at me. "One day, I'm going to kick your butt."

Now, I did laugh. "You wish!"

"You're going to be crying like a baby!"

"Yeah, yeah, boohoo, go get your bag. Your grandpa is waiting for you outside."

She did, muttering things under her breath about me I doubted were very kind. It took another twenty minutes before all kids were safely strapped in their seats and they left, Elizabeth and I waving at them in the driveway. While she managed to blow kisses like a queen, receiving the return kisses like Cinderella welcoming a songbird in her hand, I was pretty sure I seemed to be inflating an invisible balloon. Well, at least Camille still thought it was funny. As soon as they disappeared from view, Elizabeth hurried back to her office, saying something about work to do, and I was left to fend for myself.

Right. What to do? Miss Schneider had only just been here, so the house was spotless: the surfaces dustless, the kid's shoes neatly lined up, no spiderweb to be seen. For a minute, I stood there, aimlessly flinging my arms, ultimately deciding this would be a good time to practice my reading.

So far, I'd had three lessons. Hakim, my teacher, was a student majoring in educational studies. A short dude with stooped shoulders and an impressive beard, he'd seemed intimidating at first — until he'd flashed me his megawatt smile, blinding me with it, and keeled over, producing a booming belly laugh that echoed throughout the room. He might've looked like a small, hairy bear, he had a heart of gold, with the manners of a gentleman. Apparently, he knew Elizabeth from years ago, when they'd been in college together, and had lost touch after he'd dropped out. I had to admit I'd been intrigued to hear more about a kidless Elizabeth, but he didn't have a lot to tell. "We had some good times in lectures, yeah," was what he'd said about it, "nothing more. She was already married, spend all of her time with her hubby." Disappointing. I'd been so ready to hear about all kinds of wild adventures, like in the movies. Doing drugs at naked pool parties and that sort of stuff.

I'd asked him why he'd agreed to give me lessons, and he'd shot me one of those smiles: "It seemed important to Liz. She said she wanted someone trustworthy, and preferably gay." He was both, alright. I was so relaxed around him, and somehow, he made me want to put my best foot forward. He believed in me too, which annoyed the crap out of me. Life was so much easier when no one expected me to perform miracles.

Determined to get a few minutes in, I settled on the couch with the readings he'd provided in my lap, my phone next to me on a pillow. Hakim insisted it'd help me to listen to recordings of the texts while reading them, and miraculously, he was right. I could focus much more easily this way. Sometimes, Manon would act as my personal out-loud reader, taking the task so seriously I'd almost be scared of losing the thread of where we were. She was getting better at toning down the haughtiness too.

Two frustrating long words later, my phone pinged. I paused the recording, desperate for any distraction, and tapped the notification.

Immediately, I stiffened, the readings sliding down my legs to the floor.

Lennox, it said at the top of the screen, still followed by the pink sparkly heart emoji I'd put there after our first official date.

Hey Jess, have been thinking about you. How have you been?

Oh crap. And I'd opened it! And she was still online! Which meant that wherever she was, her soft blue eyes had registered I'd seen her message, which meant she was waiting for a reply, which meant I was screwed. I let out a groan, tempted to slap my palm against my forehead like Manon sometimes did. Why was my ex-girlfriend texting me after ignoring my existence completely for the last year? My own desperate, unanswered questions still popped up above hers, confronting me with my old heartache.

Help. I was nowhere near ready to deal with this. My life had only recently gotten back on track. I was doing great now, but it was still fresh and fragile and new, and I didn't know if I could stand to hear her gush about some new girl she was going to marry or something.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. How is Nick? I wanted to ask her; I wanted to ask so many things. Funny thing, did you realize it'll be five years since we met next week? Are you back in the US? What exactly were you thinking about me?

The butterfly on the inside of my wrist seemed to flutter its black wings, dragging up memories of studying the winged creatures together while they flapped around our heads in colors of royal blue and poisonous orange. No — stop. I couldn't go down that rabbit hole, not now.

Before I could do anything rash, I jumped up and all but ran into the hallway, panting out of stress as I knocked on the office door like I was trying to slam a hole in the polished wooden surface.

"Come in."

Her voice alone, stable and clear, was enough to ground me. She was sitting behind her desk, laptop open in front of her, wearing a dark button-down she preferred when working from home, the one that showed just an edge of the black lace bra underneath if you were standing at a fortunate angle. Not that I was looking. Especially not now.

"I need a straight woman's opinion," I called out, not wasting any time. I hurried towards her, plopping down on the stool next to her and placing my phone on top of her calendar. "My ex texted me. She wants to know how I've been. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?" I made a wild gesture, expressing my inner anxiety and almost knocking a cup with pens over. "Now, I need to be straight about this. I can't go full lesbian. Full lesbian is bad." Noticing the confused tilt of her head, I added, shrugging: "In this situation, I mean."

Elizabeth sighed, bringing her fingers to her temple. "Jessie, I'm working. Can't this wait until dinner?"

"No, it can't." I clasped my hands together, begging. "Please. I'm afraid of myself. I can't go back to —" another vague gesture "—Lennox. Anything with Lennox."

She glanced at her laptop, then at my phone. "You do realize I married my high school boyfriend?"

Well. I hadn't realized that before. But still, she was way more rational about stuff like this than I was. "Please." I put up my best puppy dog eyes, although I doubted it'd work on her.

"What do you want to hear? Because then I can tell you, and I can get back to doing my job."

I whimpered, fully realizing I was acting like one of the kids. "Come on, you're my only friend. I need your help."

For a second, she just stared at me, frowning slightly, when suddenly, she picked up my phone to read the text. There was another sigh, and then, inexplicably, she tapped the camera icon, flipping to selfie mode, watching herself on the screen as she ran a hand through her hair to muss it up. Tilting the phone to look at herself from different perspectives, she suddenly decided to unbutton an extra button, showing more of that bra my heart could handle at the moment.

With a slight grin, she motioned for me to scoot closer — dazzled, I let her press herself against me, temporarily forgetting how to breathe. She smiled at the camera, one of those that almost felt real, turning her face just so that it looked like she was about to kiss me on my cheek — and, oh boy, maybe she would, and maybe I wouldn't mind — and took a picture.

"Jessie," she said, frowning at the screen, "can you smile? It's not going to work if you look like I'm a random person who stole your phone."

Technically, she was sort of a random person who stole my phone, but I'd lost my ability to talk, the whole right side of me on fire as she retook her position, her unbelievably soft cheek grazing mine. I just remembered to smile, a dazed, wide-eyed one, overcome by her spicy shampoo.

She pulled away, typing a message, and it was like coming up for air. Oh, boy, she couldn't just do something like that without warning, especially not with the careless crease in her button-down, drawing way too much attention to the dip between her breasts. This morning, Camille had asked me why mine were tiny and mommy's big, and at the moment, I was just as speechless as I'd been then. "Here," Elizabeth said, handing me my phone. "Happy now?"

I gulped. She'd sent the picture to Lennox, along with the words doing great, moved in with my gf a few months ago, how are you, though my eyes were stuck on the image of the two of us. This was bad. We looked way too good together. In fact, it almost seemed like I really had feelings for this woman, judging by the surprise blush dusting my cheeks. She could've fooled me, with a smile like that, and that way too beautiful, expertly made-up face of hers.

"Told you I'd make a good lesbian," she said, a smugness to the words, like she'd won a pretend-to-be-gay contest.

"Are you kidding me?" I blurted out, still staring at the screen. "It's almost unfair that you aren't. Do you even realize what you just did?" I pointed at the picture. "Lennox is going to die. You are a goddess, Elizabeth — look at that."

She chuckled, looking away shyly. She seemed to have fully forgotten about the job she'd been so concerned about a few minutes ago, leaning back in her chair, her hair falling down her body in those gorgeous careless waves. "So, was this the straight solution you were looking for?"

Finally, I managed to tear my gaze away from the blue checkmarks beneath her message, sending her one of my most wicked grins. "Oh, Liz, trust me. Ain't nothing straight about this picture."

She laughed, throwing her head back, nothing left of the stern Elizabeth from when I'd just barged in, giving me an extra nice view of the slope of her neck. "Maybe not," she said, sighing out deeply. "Oh, who even knows. I was so young when I met Connery. All sorts of things could've been different if I hadn't."

My throat went dry, and I swallowed hard, trying to stop staring, trying to remind myself that though I did move in with her, she was not and would never be my girlfriend and that I could not, under no circumstances, catch feelings. "They can still be different, you know." I stumbled over the words, probably betraying all of my thoughts. Was she actually implying what I thought she was?

Totally ignoring my last comment, she leaned over, her shoulder brushing against mine as she checked my phone. "Has she responded yet?" she asked. Lennox wasn't even typing yet, though she was still online. "Shit. I forgot to use emojis. You always add about ten per message."

Although that was technically true, it sounded like an accusation. I yanked my phone away before she could run off with it again, lifting my chin in an attempt to look as haughty as Manon could. Now that the effect of her sudden act had worn off, I realized she hadn't used any interpunction or capital letters either, probably on purpose. Truthfully, that was how I normally texted, though coming from her, it suddenly felt like another jab at my insufficient reading skills. "Thanks," I said, avoiding her gaze. "I'll leave you to your work."

It was what she'd wanted, after all. So, when I felt a hand on my arm holding me back, I startled, turning back in surprise. She was frowning, inspecting my face with such intensity I almost squirmed. "Did I do something?"

For a second, I thought about brushing it off. Maybe I was just overreacting, right? But before I could decide on it, I'd blurted it out: "I'm trying, you know. You don't have to keep insulting me."

The frown dropped, her lips parting slightly. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment. "I'm sorry," she said then. "It wasn't my intention to —" She tilted her head. "Well, this time. I'm sorry for now and for before. I'm a hypocrite, telling Manon off when I'm probably the one she learned it from."

"Probably," I said, before I could catch myself. Perfect. I'd managed to insult her right back while she was apologizing for insulting me. We made quite a pair. "Sorry, I didn't mean to— I..."

A deep sigh, and she planted an elbow on her desk, resting her head on her hand. "No, you're right. It's partly why I hired you. So you could teach them how to be more... like you." The last words were spoken so softly and carefully I almost didn't catch them. Her eyes had glazed over, fingers playing with a pen on her desk as she saw something I couldn't.

It almost put me off-balance. All this time, I'd figured she'd hired me because she was at her wits' end, not because she actually thought I'd have a good influence on the kids.

She blinked, sitting up straight again, looking right back at me. There were all kinds of things going on in her mind, clearly visible in her eyes. "And arranging a tutor was supposed to be a token of appreciation. And how I reacted to your response..." she trailed off, shaking her head slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Well, I— thank you?" It came out as a question, as I couldn't comprehend what was happening yet. If there was anything I rarely heard her say in genuine, it was 'sorry'. And now she'd said it twice. In one conversation.

"I know I'm a lot. Just... don't let me walk all over you." She smiled then, faintly.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, stupidly following it up with a salute. I hadn't even finished doing it, or I already regretted it.

For a moment, she seemed to be on the verge of laughter, her lips quirking — the next, it was replaced by a tight-lipped frown. Her eyes traveled over the surface of her desk, from stacks of paper to notes to her laptop, showing an opened e-mail with an endless amount of text. "Do you think working this much is a mistake?" she asked then, completely out of the blue.

Just like that, my heart glowed with warmth. Never before had she sought my advice, not on something serious anyway. I wasn't the sort of person people went to for things like that, to begin with. Kids, yeah, but they were usually the only ones to look up to me. When I was with Lennox, our friends had gone to her for wise reflections and to me for, well, emotional support. We used to joke she was the brains and I was the so-called beauty. Even if I was pretty sure she was both. "I think," I said, trying to sort through all my thoughts on the topic, "that's something you have to decide for yourself. But you can always give it a go and see how it pans out. Like I did with this whole nanny thing."

Once again, she regarded the organized mess before her, checking the clock on the wall that read four fifteen. Usually, she didn't call it a day until six, sometimes even resuming her work after dinner.

With a sigh, she inched closer to the desk, turning her attention to her laptop. Even though I should've expected it, it disappointed me. For a short, sweet moment, she'd let me in, and now, I was back to being an annoyance.

Or so I thought, until a familiar tune played from the device and the screen went black. She got up, picking up her work phone, and smiled at me. "I'm going for a walk. Want to come with?"

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