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Me:You should go. It’ll give you depth.

I’m just goading him now. Getting on this man’s last nerve is my favorite hobby.

Wes:I have depth.

Me:You have depth the same way a pothole has depth. Unpredictable and potentially fatal.

A pause.

Wes:Ouch.

Me:Admit it. You miss me.

Wes:It’s suspiciously calm without you here.

Me:You mean boring?

Wes:I mean calm.

Me:One day, you’re going to realize I’m the best thing that ever happened to your household.

Wes:I already know that.

The quiet that follows is the kind that settles under my skin.

Me:Don’t say stuff like that. I’m emotionally unstable, and I just finished a latte.

Wes:Mostly foam?

I stare at the screen, then down at the cup.

Is it normal to know your nanny this well?

There was a noticeable shift after his birthday. He started asking me random things about my life in passing, but we were so caught up in the rhythm of Rosie’s world, I assumed he wasn’t paying attention. I thought he was making small talk.

I thought wrong.

Me:It was at least 70% foam, yes.

I reach into the brown paper bag beside me and pull out the candle I impulse-bought earlier just to smell it again.

Heaven.

Wes:Go enjoy the rest of your weekend. Buy more of those candles you like.

Me:Are you watching me?

Wes:You’re predictable.

Me:I prefer a creature of habit.

Wes:See you Monday, Carter.

Me:Yeah, you hope.

I smile at the screen, shove my phone into my bag, and take another deep sniff of my candle.

Thirty-Two