Fran flipped open the suitcase, the old smells of airplane storage compartment and spilled perfume filling the room. She waited for it to fade, then began shoving everything into the case. Her makeup lay in residue from her tears.
Slowly the room's messy floor became visible; she moved on to her second suitcase.
Kicking aside a wrapper, she bent down to pick up the sweater Mr. Sheffield had gotten her for a Christmas present the year before. Scowling, she threw it in the small trash can by her bed. She didn't want any of him around her anymore.
The tears came again; she had to close her eyes and tilt her head back to keep them from streaming down her face. She had to get out of this house before dawn; otherwise they'd see her, probably try to keep her from leaving. The kids would easily convince her to stay, with their deep eyes and perfectly-pitched pleas. Then she would be back inside the tension and awkwardness that was Mr. Sheffield's relationship with her and her relationship with him.
Ack.
Fran stopped for a moment, anger making moving hard. My God, she thought, the sweater clinging by a thread to one fingernail. When will he stop playing games?
I guess I won't be around to find out.
The nanny whipped out a handkerchief and wiped at her mascara-ed cheeks. Her hair was stringy with sweat and she more than anything wanted to slip off her clothes and jump into her pajamas and snuggle down in bed, her bed, their bed, whoever's bed, Maxwell's bed.
She closed the two suitcases and lay down, just for a moment. Her brain told her to think about this for a second. Sure, she'd be leaving behind Maxwell, but the kids and Niles… and where would she go?
Her heart pumped steadily, telling her No… he's hurt you too many times. Just get up and go. Your mother may take you. Val probably will.
Her heart won the argument.
Fran stood up for one last look through her room. Forgetting anything was not an option.
…
Maxwell pushed his fingers through his hair, trying to decide whether to sign this check. $20,000. Hardly a dent on his fortune, but this play didn't really seem worth it.
Suddenly he heard the clicking of angled, tall heels, and grinned.
Miss Fine.
They were coming down the stairs. Hopefully she would come in here, say hi, sit on his desk maybe. That would clear his mind.
Sort of, at least.
But the footsteps grew dimmer. He followed the path. She was going toward the door.
He pushed himself out of the chair quickly and bolted out into the main room, and saw Miss Fine standing there at the doorway, hand halfway to the knob.
"Miss FINE!" He exclaimed. She jumped a little, then whirled around. Her face wrinkled up at the sight of him.
"Oh… what do you want?" She snapped, turning again and clutching the doorknob.
Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "What's with this newfound hostility, hm? You don't act that way to your boss."
"I don't act that way to my boss. I act that way to my former boss."
Fran was satisfied to see his eyes widen in shock, and - maybe - a little glisten of sadness. "What… what do you mean, Miss Fine?"
She slowly faced him. "Don't you realize? I'm sick of your games. Do you love me or not? You told me you want me, but why don't you do something about it?"
His mouth opened, but she interrupted before he could start. "And DON'T start with your 'oh blah blah, I'm concerned about the children' shtick. I don't want to hear it. The kids love me, they want us together. And so did I."
"Miss Fine..."
"I'm not finished yet." Fran hissed. "Look. If you really want me, SAY IT RIGHT NOW. LOUD AND CLEAR. Scream it to the heavens. 'I LOVE YOU, FRAN'!"
When he remained silent, she huffed and turned around again, grabbing the knob tightly.
"Miss Fine! Of course I want you. I told you that. But… I don't know…"
Still turned away from him, she spat, "You only think I'm a one night stand, don't you? You and I are a disaster. You're just trouble for me." And with that final comment, she pulled opened the door and ran outside into the cold night air.
Smirking, she leaned up against the back door. 3… 2… 1…
It whipped open, and she fell loosely into his arms. Twisting, she swiftly pressed into him, their lips meeting. His body tensed at first, then let go, and suddenly she was pinned against the wall and they were still together.
She pulled away and looked at him.
"Well?"
Confused, he asked, "What?"
"Are ya gonna say it or do I have to leave for real this time?"
"Oh," Maxwell muttered. He stepped away, and screamed into the night sky. "I LOVE YOU, FRAN!"
He returned.
Fran smiled and kissed him again. "That's better."
