𝑻 𝑯 𝑬 𝑵 𝑨 𝑵 𝑵 𝒀 (18+)

three.

                                    A M A R A

Today was important.

Not only was I four steps away from possibly meeting my new boss but I was in architectural heaven. A perfectly even driveway with a stone fountain in the middle, predictably accompanied by a statuette of a horse. Green grass that didn't dare touch the pavement with pink and purple peonies adorning the edge.

I glanced at the clerestory windows before grabbing the lion-shaped handle on the door and knocking. The finishing on the door was something to revel. Black wood with lacquer—resistant to damage and looked beautiful in the light. It was a gorgeous home—an expensive home judging by the solar panels on the roof.

Just how much did surgeons make?

"Hi, are you Amara?" An older woman with dark brown hair opened the door, briefly rubbing her hands against an apron before smiling. She looked aged, crow's feet around her eyes and smile lines by her thin lips. There were a few streaks of gray in her hair but not enough to require a dye job. Not that she needed one. It was just nice to see a woman embrace getting older.

I smiled at her warmly before taking a step into the house. Inside smelled like warm sugar cookies and I closed my eyes, remembering when my mother and I used to spend our Sundays baking. It was a tradition of ours, one my father (unfortunate for him) wasn't a part of. When she got too sick to cook beside me I'd get up every Sunday morning before everyone else and bake.

I was terrible at it, but still, she enjoyed watching me attempt to make her muffins in the morning. The smile on her face was enough to tame even the wildest of hearts and it was something I held onto dearly. After she died I gave up attempting to bake.

Haven't found a reason to ever since then.

"It's nice to meet you..." I trailed off and followed behind her into the foyer, "Olivia. Just call me Olivia."

Olivia poured me a cup of coffee and instructed me to wait in the living room while she went to go fetch Mr. Gray. I followed her directions and walked into an open room on the left side of the house. On a large brown couch by the window two boys sat, one playing with a monster truck and the other messily eating apple sauce.

When I caught their attention, the older one looked at me and put his toy aside. "Who are you?" He asked in a tone a bit too sharp for my liking. Then again I was a stranger in his home so he had every right to look at me like I had two heads.

"My name's Amara, what's your name?" I took a sip from the red mug and carefully sat on the couch opposite the boys. The younger one smiled at me, his chubby red cheeks looked pinchable and he was the only young man I'd ever known to look cute with a bowl cut.

He batted his long eyelashes and shoved another spoonful of applesauce into his mouth, "daddy said not to talk to strangers."

Laughing, I sat the mug down on the coffee table and shrugged, "daddy's very smart."

"She's here to be our nanny Jamie," the older one picked up his truck and spun the wheel while glaring at me. He had blue eyes as opposed to his brother's big brown ones. His hair was a dark brown color and it was cut short, hair gel sloppily applied to the strands. I silently cringed and averted my eyes from the catastrophe.

Why did everyone use the wrong gel?

"You're not gonna last you know. They never last," he announced matter-of-factly. I raised a quick brow and crossed my arms, "oh yeah? What makes you think you're gonna send me running out of here?"