10. Summer
Summer
Okay, so I might have underestimated how difficult it would be to get both girls ready and out the door for school in the morning. It also didn’t help that I’d slept in Bianca’s bed the night before and didn’t have my phone nearby to hear my alarm, so we’d been behind from the get-go.
By the time we pulled into the school parking lot, it was already fifteen minutes past the starting time for her preschool class. Rico, our driver, graciously offered to stay in the SUV with Serafina while I ran inside to drop off Bianca.
Unbuckling her car seat, I helped the little girl into her winter jacket and grabbed her backpack as we hopped out. We hustled to the door, and I let out a huff of frustration when I found it locked.
“You have to hit the buzzer,” Bianca prompted.
My eyes lifted to find a small intercom speaker affixed beside the double doors. Pressing the button, I shifted on my feet—the Chicago wind was brutal on this cold December day—waiting for someone on the other end to answer.
Finally, a voice sounded. “Can I help you?”
“Yes.” That single word had an icy puff crystallizing before my face. “I’m dropping off Bianca Bellini.”
“Come on in.” There was an audible unlocking of the door, and I pulled it open, ushering Bianca inside.
My feet had gone numb, and I stomped them a few times as we made our way to the office. The woman behind the desk saw our entry and gestured toward a clipboard. “Make sure to sign her in.”
Flexing my stiff fingers, I managed to grip the pen, filling in the info lines that required the student’s name, time of arrival, and reason for being tardy. It irked me to no end to have to confess that we’d overslept.
Two days into this nannying job, and already, I felt like I wasn’t living up to the standard that would be expected of me.
“Preschool class is the third door on the right,” the secretary instructed.
“Thanks,” I breathed out.
I grabbed Bianca’s gloved hand, and together, we walked down the hallway until we reached the door to her classroom. Gently, I knocked on the door and cracked it open to peek inside.
More than a dozen children were seated on a carpet at the front of the room where a teacher sat in a rocking chair, an open picture book poised in her hands. And every set of eyes was trained in our direction as we entered.
Heat crawled up the back of my neck. “Hi. Sorry we’re late.”
The teacher offered a smile. “It’s all right. Come on in, Bianca. You know where to hang your coat and backpack, then you can join us for morning story time.”
Bianca moved to a cubby set against the wall, marked with her name. Helping her shed her outerwear and place it on the hooks, I bent down to give her a hug. “Have a great day. I’ll pick you up later.”
The little girl’s teeth descended on her lower lip. “You won’t be late?”
I hated that one rough morning was enough to leave her worried that it would always be like this. Already, I was determined that from now on, we would be early, even if that meant having to wait inside the car until the doors officially opened.
“I’ll be here right at noon, and not a single second past.” I reached a hand toward her, my pinky extended. “Pinky promise.”
Her tiny brow furrowed. “What?”
Manipulating her hand, I curled her pinky around mine so that we could shake. “When we do this with our pinkies, that makes it a promise I can’t break.”
She mulled it over for a minute but finally nodded. “Okay.” Then she scurried across the room to join her classmates on the carpet.
Leaving the room, I latched the door behind me and blew out a heavy breath. The learning curve was steep when I had two little ones counting on me, and I needed to get my shit together. Fast.
As promised, I was early for pickup. Bouncing a bundled-up Serafina in the tightly packed hallway while those gathered awaited dismissal, I could feel eyes on me.
It wasn’t any wonder why. I was surrounded by upper-class suburban housewives who were dressed in a style more befitting the runway than preschool pickup, and I stuck out like a sore thumb.
When I’d gotten home after drop-off, there’d barely been time to feed Serafina before her nap.
And that childfree hour was spent taking a shower, one where I didn’t bother to wash my hair, knowing I didn’t have the luxury to dry it before we had to leave again.
So, the shoulder-length strands were thrown haphazardly atop my head, pieces already having been pulled loose by the strong winds during the short trek across the parking lot.
I looked like a hot mess in my leggings and oversized crewneck, standing next to women who wore custom-tailored outfits, had designer handbags draped over their forearms, and were decked out with enough diamonds to appear as though they’d robbed a jewelry store.
And if their staring hadn’t made me uncomfortable enough, then came the whispers, which weren’t very hushed. It was almost as if they wanted me to hear them. More likely, they just didn’t care if I did.
“Must be the new nanny for the Bellinis.”
“She’s so much younger than the others.”
“Think Matteo’s mommy shopping?”
“Probably more interested in getting her into his bed.”
“Lucky bitch. I’m stuck with a man old enough to be my father panting on top of me, and she gets the hot, virile billionaire.”
“I give it six months before he wifes her up.”
“I’ll take that bet. Wanna up the ante and place odds on whether he gets her pregnant first?”
One of the women snorted. “A man like that can get a woman pregnant just by looking at her.”
I bit down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood. Thankfully, before I lost the battle waging within me to give these women a piece of my mind, the door to the classroom opened, and a rush of children flooded into the hallway.
My eyes landed on Bianca, and it nearly broke my heart as an expression of relief stole over her face when she saw me waiting for her.
“Summer!” Her sweet little voice carried over the crowd as she ran toward me.
Keeping a tight hold on Serafina, I dropped to one knee. “Hey, girlie! How was school?”
With a bright smile on her face, she chirped, “Good! I got to be the line leader!”
“Well, aren’t you a lucky duck. What do you say we head home and have lunch?”
“Can we go to Clucky Chucky’s and get nuggies?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Does your daddy let you have fast food?”
Her head bobbed on an enthusiastic nod. “Papa always says yes.”
My eyes lifted to the ceiling. “Why does that not surprise me?” Though I’d only observed a handful of interactions between Matteo and his eldest daughter, I could already tell he was a complete pushover. I mean, the man had let her paint his nails last night.
Rising to my feet, I extended my free hand for her to take. “All right. Just this once.”
“Yay!” Bianca cheered, bouncing along beside me as we exited the building.
That girl was a charmer, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up no better than her father, catering to her every whim.
We’d survived my first full week of nannying, so I’d planned a fun Friday night for the girls as a reward. After a little trip down the internet rabbit hole, I landed on the perfect activity. It might be a little messy, but I had no doubt they’d love it.
Bianca sat perched on the counter beside me while I boiled water and stirred sauce on the stove, eager to be my little helper. Serafina was as happy as a clam in her highchair, which was affixed to the kitchen table, babbling to the baby—herself—she found in the mirror set before her.
They were such delightful, easy children. I couldn’t understand why Matteo had such trouble getting a nanny to stay.
Once the food was almost ready, I set Bianca on the floor. “Go sit down. It’s time to eat.”
The little girl who had become my shadow raced toward the table and climbed onto a chair.
Carefully, I strained the pasta, returned it to the pot, and then added the sauce, mixing it all together. With oven mitts protecting my hands, I carried the heavy pot to the table.
Locking eyes with Bianca, I asked, “Ready?”
She bounced on her knees. “Ready!”
Tipping the pot, I let the saucy spaghetti slide onto the table, which had been covered in a plastic tablecloth for an easy cleanup later.
Bianca’s giggles bounced off the walls, and I found it impossible not to join in, my laughter layering over hers.
“Wait just a minute, okay?” I instructed. “I’ve got to put the pot in the sink, and then I’ll be right back.”
Though her eyes were bright and she practically vibrated with excitement, the little girl nodded in agreement. “Okay.”
Fully aware that I was testing the limits of a four-year-old’s patience, I hustled to complete my task and return to the table.
“Arms up,” I commanded.
Bianca reached toward the sky, and I lifted her shirt over her head.
Even though it would be straight to the bath after dinner, at least I wouldn’t be spending my free time after they went to bed scrubbing tomato sauce stains out of clothing.
Serafina had been stripped down to only a diaper before being placed in her highchair, so now both girls were ready to eat.
“All right. Let’s dig in.”
With a fork poised in her hand, Bianca reached toward the massive pile of pasta. She didn’t bother to return to her seat, letting her torso rest against the table’s surface as she shoveled spaghetti into her mouth.
“How about you, little mouse? Want a taste?” I asked Serafina. My research had also made me aware of baby-led weaning, and this meal seemed like the perfect opportunity to let her try it out.
The baby slapped the table, and I took that for a yes.
Separating a section from the pile, I cut the long noodles into smaller pieces and brought them within her reach.
For a while, all she did was squish them in her fist, content to explore the new texture. But eventually, she did bring some to her mouth, and soon both girls’ faces and chests were smeared with sauce.
“Smells good in here.” A male voice had my head whipping around to find Enzo and Matteo entering the room.