Nanny Diaries

Chapter 11 - Blue French Horn

Have you ever woken up to someone you feel so at home with? It’s like waking up in heaven, but this is for the living. Well, that’s how I woke up the next morning. In Zack’s arms, sprawled across his body in his bed. 

Unfortunately, this euphoria had to end all too quickly. I carefully climb out of his arms and rush out of the room, switching on my phone. I hail a cab in front of his building and hurriedly give the address, my heart squeezing at the thought of Matt waking up without me there. I dialed George’s number with lightning speed and pressed the phone to my ear so hard it’s got to have left indentations. 

“Hello?” a groggy voice groans through the speaker. 

“George, it’s Lauren. Look, I didn’t make it home last night, but I’m coming. I’m not far, if Matt wakes up will you get him breakfast and if you have to dress him? I should be there before then, though.”

“Um, okay.” George says, and I can picture him wincing with drooping eyes, since he never goes to sleep early and stays in bed very late. He’d consider this the crack of dawn. I hang up, and clutch onto the backseat of the the taxi, willing it to go faster. I cast a glance over my shoulder, feeling bad after leaving Zack there without an explanation. 

The night actually turned out exactly like the movie. Zack wooed me with the Dirty Dancing trick, we both knew what Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling planned on doing, which by the way, I would never, ever do. And as fate would have it, we stayed up late talking until we both collapsed with exhaustion. 

I smile as my heart warms like a pie in the oven, expanding and swelling almost to the point of exploding. I shake my head out of my idiotic trance and glance at the greasy, middle-aged cab driver who winks at me through the rear view mirror. I suppress a shudder and redirect my eyes out the window, ignoring the sound of his lip smacking together hungrily. 

“Stop here.” I demand, throwing a bill at him and charging out onto the street. I’d walk before I spent another minute in a car with that creep. So, that’s exactly what I do. I leg it for the last the two blocks with a slight drizzle bearing down on me. I get a couple looks from a few random early birds trolling it through the city, probably they recognize me from the stupid tabloids. I let it roll off my shoulders just like water on my back and keep up my pace until I reach my building, a beacon of light at the end of the grayish, damp tunnel. 

I wave to the doorman, who I realize is literally drooling at his post. A long elevator ride later, I show up in the apartment, listening for sounds of Matt. There are none, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. I shake myself off like a shaggy dog, then hang my coat on the coatrack and head down the hall. 

I open the door to his room, where he is fast asleep in his race car bed, one arm stuck underneath his stomach and the other flopping off the side. His blanket rests sideways, draping across one foot and exposing the other. I tiptoe over, enjoying watching his cute form, but he’s already going to be late if I don’t get him up now. 

“Matt. Matt.” I say in singsong, using my oh-sweet-morning voice. I sigh, knowing this will do nothing. I raise my voice a notch and switch to, “Bacon is ready!”