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I shrugged. “Maybe. You’d know better than me.”
She squinted at me, smiling. “How do you figure?”
I rolled my eyes. “Cause Max has been too afraid to have sex with me while I had my cast on.”
Anna sat up, looking scandalized. “But you have it off now. Surely that will change.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Technically it’s not fully healed, so who knows what excuses he will find to baby me. I thought it would be nice, but honestly, I’m so tired of being treated like some porcelain doll by everyone.”
“Do you want me to tip you over so you feel less breakable?” Anna asked.
I burst out laughing. “No way,” I said. “I probably really would break.”
Anna pretended like she was gonna shove me until I punched her in the boob.
“Ow, hey,” she said. “Those are sore from…” Then she blushed and went back to the magazine.
“Sore from what, Anna?” I asked, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Sore from…what?”
She gave me a scathing look. “You know what,” she said. “Sorry about your love life.”
My phone buzzed, and it was a text from the counseling center that Dr. Harzel was a part of. It quoted to me their weekly rates, and I nearly seized out from the numbers.
“Good, God,” I said. “Guess that’s the end of therapy for me.”
Anna looked up with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t afford to pay two hundred and fifty dollars a week for therapy. I’ll just stuff away my feelings like a normal person,” I explained.
Anna shook her head. “No, you won't. Kevin said he would–”
“Kevin is your boyfriend, Anna. Not mine. I can’t take anything else from him. I feel so uncomfortable with the amount he’s given me already just because I’m your friend.”
“Well, isn’t that the point of friends?” Anna argued. “To help hook you up with stuff you need?”
I sighed and shook my head. “I can probably get a job or something. You’re right, I really need counseling.”
Anna’s face brightened, and she started bouncing on the bed. “I know the perfect job for you, Hales. Kevin has a friend that owns a resort across town–”
“I told you, Anna, I’m not taking any more charity.”
“It’s not charity,” she insisted. “I was gonna say he has three little kids who are in desperate need of a nanny.”
“Nanny?” I repeated.
“Yes,” replied Anna. “It’s someone who watches children…”
I gave her a scathing look back. “Okay smartass. But how does this help me… Oh…”
Anna nodded. If I worked as a nanny, I would have not only a place to stay, but enough money to pay for my own therapy and a place to train.
“You’re a genius, Anna,” I said, hugging her tightly.
“Thank you, I know.”
“Did you know I used to nanny back in LA?”
“Well duh,” she said. “We did live together.”
