Page 47 of The Good Girl Effect

“Not quite, little Bea. I’m twenty-four.”

She appears momentarily shocked before bouncing along beside me. “But you can still grow up more.”

“I guess so,” I say.

“So what do you want to be when you grow up?” she asks, repeating the question.

“Hmm…” I screw up my mouth. “I don’t know. I used to work in a bookstore. Before that, I worked at my father’s restaurant. Now, I’m a nanny for a curious little girl. I don’t know what I’ll do next.”

“I want to be a ballerina like my tante Elizabeth,” she says, pointing her arms over her head in a messy little ballet move.

“Why don’t you take lessons?” I ask.

“Because Papa doesn’t like it.”

My brows pinch inward. “Why not?”

She shrugs. “I took lessons when Maman was sick, but when she went to sleep, I stopped.”

Everything in me tenses. Why does it seem like every innocent conversation makes its way back to her mother? I’m terrible at this.

And why on earth does she think her mother went to sleep? Is that what Jack told her? Maybe she’s too young to understand death? What the hell do I know?

I wish I could take away all Bea’s pain and give her the normal, happy childhood she deserves. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose her mother at only three years old.

“If you want dance lessons, I can take you.”

“You can?” she asks excitedly.

With a sigh, I realize it might not have been wise of me to make such promises. What if Jack doesn’t change his mind? She’s not my daughter. But then again…it’s not like he would notice anyway. He barely knows his own child.

I can’t help that I have this overwhelming need to make Bea’s life as good as it can be. And if ballet lessons are what she wants, then somehow, I can make that happen for her.

When we get back to the apartment, I writeballet lessonson the to-do list I keep in my bedroom. I plan to look into it later when I have some free time. I’m sure I have Jack’s sister’s contact information somewhere. I’ll call her later and ask if she can recommend something for Bea.

I should ask Jack first. But what if he says no? I’m not sure if that’s something I want to risk.

While Bea plays with her dolls in her room, I stare down at the to-do list, mindlessly sketching a polar bear ballerina on the bottom. For some reason, I get the urge to look at the photo of Jack and his wife again, so I check to be sure I’m alone before opening the drawer and fishing the original letter and photo out.

It’s the first time I’ve looked at it in a while. And it feels strange to see Jack with her now. Now that it feels like some small piece of him belongs to me. Even if he and I will never be romantic the way they were, Jack is opening up to me. He’s giving me a piece of himself, no matter how big or small that is.

But as I stare at the woman in the photo, Emmaline, I realize that I feel a closeness to her too. It’s strange, really. I never knew her, and I never will. But I care about her in a way that I can’t describe. I love her daughter with a sense of protectiveness already.

I’m living in her house and building a relationship with her family. Would she like me? Or hate me? I know I’ll never fill the hole she left or live up to her, but in some strange way, I want to make her proud.

I want to prove that I’m good enough.

Rule #15: Legacies are not about turning a profit.

Jack

Julian is sitting smugly across from me at the table, and I glare at him as Phoenix stands at the front of the room, going over the dismal numbers from last quarter.

Everything with the club is going to shit. It’s his fault, and he knows it.

“We need to cap attendance lower and increase security,” I say when Phoenix is finished.

“How is capping attendance going to improve these numbers?” Julian asks.