the sitter | lewandowski

twenty six

26 ; suck it and see
a/n: ok this is actually the name of a cute arctic monkeys song that i listen to when i write this book but tbh saoirse's gonna blow robert to like oblivion in this chapter so i guess it just fits

//

Though he didn't want to call her out on it, Robert had noticed that a sort of sadness had seeped through the surface of Saoirse's mind; for reasons unbeknownst to him.

He first noticed that she wasn't quite the same as her fifth month of pregnancy commenced. Ann-Kathrin had offered to give Saoirse a break by taking Nova with her for the day—the seventeen year old rarely did anything other than care for the one year old—and so she'd visited Robert for the first time in his new office.

It was there that he brought to her attention that this was the month of her eighteenth birthday; May.

"It is?" Saoirse spoke, her eyes wide in surprise. When she realized that it was, she gasped a little. "Well, you're right. It is."

"Of course I am." Robert gazed up at Saoirse from where he was positioned at his desk and felt his smile slowly disintegrate, his eyes landing on Saoirse's delicate and distant face. She was gazing out the window of the office as she sat in a chair across his desk, fiddling with her fingers a little, her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth.

"Saoirse, what's the matter?" Robert finally inquired, once Saoirse's eyes met his. She let out a breath.

"What makes you think something is wrong?" She inquired, blinking.

Robert blinked also. "Well, nevermind."

Saoirse tilted her head to the side and looked away again before opening her mouth to speak. "Do you think I'm, 'living my life too fast'?" She inquired, air quoting the words.

Robert frowned a little. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone tells me so. Well, used to—I don't talk to anyone but you and the neighbors now. When I was younger, Roisin used to judge girls like me. She would say girls who feel the need to live their life like this are the ones who always die young, because in spite of the fact that they still have so many years left, they have nothing left to live for. You know?"

Robert sighed. "Saoirse—"

Saoirse let out a breath. "Don't respond." She spoke, placing a hand on her stomach. "I can't imagine what you'd say that would cause me to stop wondering."

Robert placed his head on his hands. "Come here." He spoke, after a few moments. Saoirse stood and moved over to the Pole, her movements elegant; she glided across the floor almost as though she was a feather in the wind, effortless, delicate, and beautiful.

She was clad in a simple outfit, consisting of a grey oversized sweater-turned-dress and knee high suede boots, and Robert was certain that part of the reason her long hair flowed behind her was because it was long overdue for a haircut—but he playfully pulled at it anyways as she sat on his lap.

"There's something you're keeping from me." Robert spoke, quietly, after giving her a kiss.

Saoirse pressed her forehead to his. "Maybe, but you shouldn't worry. This stuff, it's all in my head."

Robert sighed. "I want you to feel like you can trust me, and like you can talk about anything with me. Because you can." He squeezed her waist. "You worry me greater by keeping what troubles you to yourself than you do by simply telling me."

Saoirse looked down at her lap. "You just wouldn't understand, Robert. That's all." Her eyes found his again, dark and melancholy.

Robert opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the door bursting open—in came his new secretary, a woman named Rowan who was around Kati's age and whose fiancé worked in the office as well. "Mr. Lewandowski, you have a—Oh!"