“I wish I didn’t have to, honey,” says Sophia, crouching down to Penelope’s height. “But I do. I’m going to miss yousomuch.”
Penelope starts crying, and Sophia takes her into her arms. I feel awful, seeing my little girl in pain. This is all my fault, too. If I hadn’t stepped over that line with Sophia, if I’d been able to restrain myself and keep our relationship professional, then those women would never have started bullying her. She wouldn’t be leaving right now. And Penelope would still be her usual happy self.
“Will I ever get to see you again?” Penelope asks.
Sophia swallows. “I don’t know. I hope so.” She wipes her own eyes and pulls back from the hug to look Penelope in the face. “I know you’re really sad right now. But you know what, Penelope? You’re going to meet your new nanny tomorrow. And I know she’s going to be great. I want you to promise me that you’ll be just as welcoming to her as you were to me. Okay?”
Penelope nods. “Okay.”
“Good. Now give me at least three more hugs before I go.”
Chapter Seven
Sophia
Idip my brush into a glob of paint on my palette and smear it across the canvas. The blue picks up some of the black paint that hasn’t dried yet and continues to darken as I keep dragging the brush. I add a few more strokes to the canvas, then step back and try to see the piece with fresh eyes.
It’s good, I think. It still needs work. But it’s getting there.And so are the other pieces I’ve been working on. I have four done so far in the series. These new paintings look nothing like my previous work. They’re dark, aching, and moody.
Which is, of course, exactly how I feel inside.
It’s been a tough couple of weeks. It’s really sucked, not being able to see Lucas and Penelope. I miss them so much. But I know that leaving was the right thing to do—the situation with those women was only going to escalate if I’d stayed.
I add a little more paint to the corner of the canvas, adding more depth to a spot that feels too flat. When I step back again, I feel the painting hold together a little better.
The sound of a video call rings from the other room. I set my brush and palette down and wipe my hands off on the splattered apron tied around my waist as I go grab my phone.
My mood instantly brightens when I see that it’s Ava calling. Although we’ve been texting plenty—especially when all the drama went down—it’s been a while since we’ve video chatted. I tapAnswerand hold the phone up in front of my face.
“Hey!” she says, her face pixelating and then becoming sharp. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“I was painting,” I say. “But I could use the break. I’m glad you called.”
“Oh! Can I get a sneak peek of your work?”
“I mean…if you really want to see it.”
“I really want to see it, Sophia. Come on.”
“Okay. Hold on.” I carry the phone into my living room, which I essentially use as a painting studio. I show Ava the paintings I’ve finished, eventually making my way over to the one I’m currently working on.
“Oh, wow,” says Ava. “They’re incredible, Sophia.”
“Thank you.”
“No, I mean it. I know I always say that I like your work…but there’s something different about these ones. I think you should show them to a gallery or something.”
I look at the paintings again. She really thinks they’re that good?
“Really?” I say, turning the phone around so that my face is in the frame again.
“Really,” says Ava. “I wouldn’t just say that.”
“Well…thank you. That means a lot to me. And I’ll seriously consider the gallery thing.”
“Please do.”
I smile. “Anyway…how are you? How’s the internship?”