Page 112 of Nine Week Nanny

My stomach knots. September 15th.

"About that. My current contract runs through October 3rd." I swallow hard. "But I might be able to get out of it earlier."

Lennon's face flashes in my mind, the way he lights up when we work through school, or when he tells me something new from Seabreeze.

"Either date works perfectly for us," Cindy says. "The September date just gives you the option to start sooner if you'd like. But if you need to honor your commitment through October, we completely understand."

"And the original ninety-day timeline?"

"That would put your start date at October 20th, which is still open, too. Again, totally your call."

I should be relieved. Instead, my chest tightens. Options don’t feel like freedom. They feel like pressure.

"Thank you, Cindy. I need to check with the agency about my contract terms. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Take your time. We're just excited to have you join our clinical team."

Clinical team. My actual career. The one I spent years preparing for.

I hang up, the silence of the apartment pressing in. The phone is heavier than normal.

I scroll to Elite Nanny Services in my contacts, my thumb hovering. I need to know my options, what my contract actually requires. Maybe everyone will be relieved for this to end sooner than planned.

My finger hovers over Vanessa’s name for a full minute before I finally press call. The line rings twice.

"Elite Nanny Services, Vanessa Williams speaking."

"Hi, Vanessa. It’s Sloane Brennan."

"Sloane." Her tone softens, then tilts guarded. "How are things going with the Carrigan placement?"

I twist the shell Lennon gave me between my fingers, the ridges biting into my skin. "Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I have a question about my contract."

"Of course. What can I help with?"

Deep breath. Just say it. "Is there any possibility of ending the arrangement early? I’ve received a job offer in my field that starts sooner than expected."

Silence stretches long enough that I pace a step across the carpet.

"How much sooner?" Vanessa finally asks, her tone clipped.

"Mid-September. About half the time we originally discussed."

"I see." Papers shuffle on her end. "You signed for nine weeks. Two weeks’ notice puts us in a difficult position. It’s not impossible, but live-in placements are harder to backfill, especially for such a short job."

Heat creeps up my neck. "I understand. I haven’t made any decisions yet. I just need to know if it’s an option."

"And Lennon? Has his situation changed?"

The question slices me open. "No. He still needs someone full-time."

"Any issues with the household you’d like to bring up?"

"No." It comes out too fast, almost defensive.

"I see."

"I love working with Lennon," I rush on. "He’s thriving. We’ve made progress. But this job, it’s my career, what I trained for. I need to understand my options. I won't leave Lennon without care, I didn't know if there were other candidates that you considered."