Babysitting Mr. Volkov's baby

e shop, the little bell above it chiming like it always did. The familiar scent of espresso and cinnamon welcomed me, though something in the a

e relief. That was the first red flag. The second was the sight of Mike

y direction. His voice was tight, a little colder than usual. I swall

and hanging it by the door. "Sorry, traffic was a mess ag

or, pretending to wipe down the counter, clearly wanting no part of this. My he

even blink. "Nina, this is

ng to. Was it Monday when my alarm didn't go off? Or Tuesday, when the bus got stuck in traffic for twenty minutes? Maybe Thurs

ser. "But I promise, it won't happen again. I'll set an earlier al

hat followed was worse than anything he could've said.

"We've given you chances, Nina. More than we should've. You're good

l do better," I blurted out, the desperation in my

ndeniable. "We can't keep doing this. I need someone rel

hat, it was over. My mouth went dry, and I stood there, una

Mike, please, I can-" But he

d him. He looked uncomfortable, like he hated hav

ck, waiting for him to say something that would give me a way out of

Mike, not in front of Derek or the customers who were starting to glan

small, like it belonged t

he hook. The damp fabric felt heavy in my hands,

made my way to the exit. My fingers fumbled with my coat as I pulled it back

new I'd see Derek's guilty expression or Mike's grim face, and that would be it-everyth

ose. The chill of the air hit me full force, but it barely registered. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring out at the street

nt. Anger at myself for being late again and again, anger at Mike for not giving me one more chance, and panic because I had no idea what I was goi

way he'd check the clock when I finally walked through the door. It was like I'd been daring them to fire me,

a second, thumb hovering over the contacts list. Who could I even call? My mind flipped through the short list of peo

yone, not right now. I just needed to move, to do something, anythi

just been starting. I should've been inside, tying on my apron, faking my usual smile as I took orders, pretendi

couldn't even blame M

eavy against the wet pavement. I didn't know where I was going, but any