Page 119 of A Convenient Secret

“It would be my treat. I broke enough dishes here.” I shrug.

“Look at you. I didn’t know the nanny position was so lucrative,” Cora teases.

Shit. I don’t want to tell them I took Declan’s ten thousand. The money sits in my account, so this would be a good cause. I was going to donate it, anyway.

“Declan pays a retainer he hardly uses, so really it’s paid for already.” I turn to coo over the baby, because talking about Declan makes me feel hot all over.

When you first answered the fucking phone. It was your voice.

He was into my voice as much as I was into his. How is this my life?

“Talking about Declan, is he the dirty talker?” Saar asks, and I literally stop breathing.

“What?” Cora laughs.

I swallow. I shake the stroller, or rather my hands shake, rattling the stroller. I desperately try to remember how to breathe.

“Why would you say that? Is he the soccer dad?” Celeste looks at me, causing more heat to spread across my cheeks.

Have they known all along? Did Declan say something to his brother?

Has he decided to tell people without discussing it with me? Or finishing the conversation from last night?

I am. Not. Divorcing. You.

I turn slowly to Saar. “Yeah, why would you say that?” I go for casual, but it comes out as a squeal. Or maybe only to my panicked ears.

Saar narrows her eyes at me, like my reaction is an epiphany, but then she shrugs. “I’m joking… but have you seen the story?”

“What story?” Cora asks.

There is a story about me and Declan? Where? How public is it?

Saar pulls out her tablet, swipes through, and sets it in the middle of the table.

New nanny snatches the unattainable Declan Quinn.

I read the headline several times. It doesn’t change the meaning. It only blurs in front of my eyes, constricting my chest.

“Wow, I know I saw you, but you looked really good at the gala.” Celeste turns the tablet toward herself and scrolls through the pictures, like my appearance was the point here.

“Let me see it.” I snatch it from her.

There are several pics from the gala, and then more of me at school pickup, another one in front of Zoya’s ballet school. There are even two or three shots of the kids when we went to the park.

“This is horrible,” I whisper.

“It’s just gossip. Don’t worry about it,” Celeste says.

“Fucking vultures. And they dare to photograph the kids. I hate them.” Saar pats my back.

Jesus. The children. I’ve been so shocked and absorbed by the implication of my photographs roaming the internet, I didn’t realize the further ramifications.

Of course, everyone else sees the gossip. If they only knew how much truth is in that story.

And, of course, everyone else is outraged about the invasion of privacy. And I am, too—seeing Declan’s innocent kids all over some trashy website is disturbing. And so unfair to them.

What they don’t see is that my face is all over the internet. Everyone now knows I live in Manhattan. Everyone can track me down. But not everyone will be looking.