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"That's enough," I say, standing up, my voice cold and stern. "You don't know anything about my relationship with Jaime."
"Because you barely have one!" she yells. "You think throwing money at him makes up for being absent? He needs love, attention, a family. Not just a nanny."
"Get out," I say, pointing to the door. "I won't be spoken to like this in my own home."
"Fine," she says, her eyes blazing with anger. "But remember this, Shane: Jaime won't remember the toys or the house. He'll remember who was there for him. And right now, that's not you."
She storms out, slamming the door behind her. The silence that follows is deafening. I sink back into my chair, the weight of her words hitting me hard.
She's right, a voice inside me whispers. But I push it away, focusing on the anger and frustration instead. How dare she accuse me of not caring? I've sacrificed everything for Jaime. But as the minutes tick by, the anger fades, replaced by a gnawing doubt.
I glance at the framed photo on my desk—Jaime, smiling brightly, holding a soccer ball. I remember taking that picture, one of the rare weekends we spent together. I remember his laughter and the way he looked up at me with admiration.
Am I really that bad of a guardian?I wonder. Nicole's words replay in my mind. She's upset everything in my life, making me question my choices and my priorities. But deep down, I know she's touched on a painful truth.
Determined not to let my desire for Nicole interfere with my duties, I make a silent vow: I won't let her distract me, and I won't let these feelings get in the way of my work or my responsibility to Jaime. But as I close my eyes, trying to focus on the spreadsheets in front of me, the image of Jaime's disappointed face and Nicole's fiery eyes linger, leaving me more unsettled than ever.
Chapter 4
Nicole
"Alex has so much energy," I tell Annette. We watch him and Jaime playfully slap plastic red and blue swords beneath the monkey bars.
"Chatty and charming," Annette says. "Just like all the Robertson men." She feigns exhaustion as she takes another sip of coffee. "They make for good lawyers, and even better liars." I decide not to delve too deeply into the meaning.
Jaime looks happy—not just for a boy who lost his parents a few weeks back, but truly happy.
"Thanks for coming," I say. "I know it was short notice, but we..."
"Oh, come on, doll. There's no need to thank me. We love Jaime, and having a pretty young girl to hang out with de-ages me," she jokes. Annette is about 10 years older, but you can't tell with her smooth skin and fit figure. She has the look of elegance, someone whose style could elevate any brand she wears.
Jaime met Alex a week ago at a park a few miles from the estate. The two quickly took a liking to each other and played all day, so naturally, Annette felt compelled to chat with me. It was her idea, actually, to have a playdate. And just in time, too. I was worried that Shane's missed family time would hurt Jaime so much that I'd stopped promising him appearances altogether. Annette and Alex were highly dependable for playtime. She was a full-time mom who'd retired early to raise her son.
"It's me who should be thanking you, really," says Annette. "Jaime is such a good boy, and any distraction that keeps Alex from tearing down the city is a blessing to me."
"Well... Jaime is sweet, but far from an angel. Soon they'll be plotting their destruction as a team."
Annette laughs at that. It's my first official mom joke.
"I love your accent. Whereabouts in Italy are you from, doll?"
"Naples," I say reflexively.Damn, I think.The lie I've practiced is Florence.
"Really?" Annette asks instantly. "Is it rough there? You know, a month ago, I wouldn't even know where it was. But my feeds have been blowing up about the gangs from there."
That was news to me.
"Oh, it's just like here, really. It all depends on the city and the kind of company you keep," I say. "I mean, it's a man's world. For us, each place is just as dangerous as the next."
"You got that right, doll. That's why we girls have to look out for each other," Annette adds. "Oh, I can't wait to show you around to the other moms," she says, pulling out her phone. "That reminds me, what's your handle on InstaSnap?"
"Oh... I don't have an InstaSnap or anything, really."
That was a lie; I use one social media platform—SnapFace. My private account has few contacts and contains fake pictures and made-up information.
"Really? A pretty girl like you would be a star, and it's a good way to meet some new people in the city," Annette remarks.
"Oh, I'm not interested in making friends or updating everyone on my life."