Second Chances

Me!?-------->chp2

ME!?

"Thank you. Come again."

The customer gave her a smile before walking out of the store. Once the door shut, Marinette sighed in relief. Finally, the last of the customers were served, signaling the end of the rush. She walked to the back, out of sight from the front counter, and took a seat on a lone chair before grabbing her water bottle.

Her father looked up from his baking table. "All finished?"

"All clear," she confirmed before downing half of the bottle. "Thankfully. It was a mad house up there. And with it only being Maman and I-"

"Say no more," her father interrupted. "Makes me glad I was back here instead of up front."

Marinette nodded exasperatedly before finishing off her water bottle. Before she could return to the front, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at the screen then hit the answer button as quick as possible. "Hey, Alya."

"Girl, you better not mess this up."

At Alya's tone, Marinette immediately frowned. "What?"

"I got you a job."

Marinette quirked a brow. "Mind elaborating?"

"I know that you love your parents and that you'd do anything for them, but I also know how badly you want to get out of the bakery."

Marinette fidgeted. "That's not true, Alya."

"Girl," Alya said, her voice tense with warning. "Just because you were passed over for that design job-which is an atrocity-doesn't mean that you should snub your nose at any other job. We both know your parents are angels in disguise, but I know you would much prefer finding a job of your own."

"Well... I mean, that's true," Marinette admitted, "but I don't want to get a job just to get a job. What would be the difference between this job and any other."

"It pays better, first off. It also gets you away from your parents since you live them. And while you love them, you are a twenty-six-year-old woman who is ready to prove she's self-sufficient again."

All good points Marinette couldn't refute. "So, what's the job?"

"A nanny."

And all hope flatlined. "A nanny," Marinette deadpanned.

"I know it's not exactly a fashion designer," Alya said, "or any creative job, really. But, like I said, it pays more than you make at the bakery, is easier than dealing with customers on a day in-day out basis, gets you away-"

"Alya," Marinette interrupted, rubbing her eyes. "No."

"No?"

"No. Why would you suggest me as a nanny?"

"Because this guy needs help," Alya said. "He's a single dad trying to raise a four-year-old girl while trying to manage a multi-million-dollar business. When I heard of his dilemma, there was only one person I could think of that I could recommend in good conscious."

"And that was me?" Marinette skeptically asked.

"Yes."