“Maybe she’s earned the right to be one. Do you want to get a coffee or something?”
I put my hand on his arm. Jeez, he is so tall and I am wearing flats, which makes me come up to his shoulders, if that. “I’d love to, but I’d better get back to my mom. I left her all alone upstairs and she’ll be wondering what’s taking me too long.”
“Tell her,” he says, bending down to give me a kiss on my lips, “you’re busy with the driver.”
And the driver is busy driving me crazy.
The doorman smiles at me strangely when I walk back inside our building.
Late Sunday afternoon, this mommy-nanny finally gets some time off. Mom frowns when she sees me dressed in those hot pink hot pants from Bloomingdale’s, which I’ve teamed with a white tank and blazer, as well as white platform wedge espadrilles.
“Mom
