Chapter 5 #2
I wasn’t quite sure what my role was at the party. Technically, it was my day off, which usually happened on weekdays since the weekends were when Beau worked the most. He’d already informed me that I was “invited” to the party, but if I didn’t want to be there, I didn’t have to be.
I’d gaped at him and told him there was nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. He’d gotten a strange look on his face, nodded curtly, then walked away.
Even though it wasn’t my “job” to watch over Clara during the party, I did often.
Not that she needed much watching. She was playing in the bounce house Beau had erected earlier.
Or at the potion-making station. Originally, I’d put together a makeshift one, then Beau actually constructed one for her.
There were rose petals, glitter water, all sorts of things.
A flower-crown making station too. All things I offered my supervision with, helping little hands create crowns, fastening stoppers on glass bottles, and drying tears when things were spilled or stubborn toddlers couldn’t figure out things on their own.
I stayed near the children because it was more comforting there, I knew what to do, where I was needed.
And I was the nanny, after all. That was my connection to the large group of people.
Most of all, kids didn’t require stilted small talk, kids didn’t judge, didn’t understand social hierarchies.
“Here,” a voice said, thrusting a champagne glass at me.
I had no idea where it came from since I was reasonably sure Beau didn’t own champagne glasses.
It was held between Calliope’s well-manicured fingers, her hand clad in expensive rings, a stack of diamonds on her wrist.
I took it from her, taking in her dark designer sunglasses, red capped-sleeve blouse, impossibly chic jeans and heels that were somehow managing to not sink into the grass.
I suddenly felt self-conscious about the floral slip dress I’d found on extreme sale at Nordstrom Rack, even though it was real silk, one of the nicest things I owned.
It draped well over my curves, made me feel pretty and feminine.
It was my last chance to wear it before the weather got too cold.
A thin cardigan was all I needed in the peak heat of the unseasonably warm day.
Clara had already put a flower crown on my head.
The only jewelry I wore was the gold locket my grandmother left me.
Aside from the swipes of mascara and pink lip gloss I’d quickly put on this morning, my face was free of makeup. Nothing like Calliope’s flawless face and expertly applied cat eyes. Next to her, I looked like a child playing dress up.
“I shouldn’t.” I motioned to the glass.
“You’ve been dealing with a bunch of five-year-olds all afternoon. And Beau for months. You probably need the whole fucking bottle,” Calliope added with a smirk. “Take the wine, you’re off the clock. You’re of age.”
Calliope had a way of speaking that was authoritative but not harsh. And I wanted her approval desperately. So I took the glass and sipped it. I’d never had champagne before. The bubbles were light, the flavor complex, not too sweet.
Drinking had never been a vice of mine. I’d seen what it could do to people, experienced firsthand how it could ruin lives, turn off utilities, empty cupboards of food.
It was not alluring to me, and I rarely had extra money to justify spending on it.
But this was a celebration, the sparkling drink instantly making my limbs feel lighter, chasing away the underlying feeling of dread that had chilled my blood all day.
“Come and sit.” Calliope gestured to where the women of Jupiter had perched on the picnic table and chairs I’d put out this morning.
“I should…” I flicked my wrist to the gaggle of girls and toddlers within reach of choking hazards, not to mention Clara in her mask, staying out of touching distance.
“There are men to do the child watching.” Calliope waved in the direction of men who were indeed watching the children. “Elliot,” she called out. “Watch these children.”
Her “not boyfriend” instantaneously broke from his conversation to come over to us. “Sure, babe,” he said, kissing her neck.
The act was so intimate and casual, yet at the same time, it felt illegal for me to be seeing it. I felt intense longing for something like that. For a connection with someone I could rely on.
I gazed around the yard. Kip and Rowan were running around after their respective children.
Kane was sitting dutifully while his daughter made him his own flower crown with chubby fingers.
It was refreshing to see the mothers sitting, chatting, and enjoying drinks while the fathers chased the kids.
I’d been to a few children’s birthday parties, and that was not usually the case.
It was typically frazzled mothers who barely got a moment to eat, drink, or talk to each other while the men leisurely enjoyed beer and conversation.
“Hannah, did you do all of this?” Nora asked when I sat down, self-conscious around these older, glamorous women I looked up to.
Their friendships seemed so solid, effortless; their relationships envious.
Their whole lives seemed like fairy tales, though realistically, I knew that couldn’t be the case.
People didn’t exactly wear their traumas on their sleeves.
I should’ve known that better than anyone.
“I mean, Beau handled the bouncy house,” I replied, suddenly embarrassed by all the attention being on me.
I had been happy before, hanging out with children who hadn’t learned to judge people yet.
Not that I felt judged by Nora or any of the women paying attention to the question.
I was projecting my own judgment of myself onto them.
I was self-aware enough to know that, at least.
“Yes, Beau handled the bouncy house… He googled ‘child’s birthday party’ then did whatever was at the top of the search list,” Calliope interjected. “I doubt Beau thought about potion stations, flower crowns, or cookie decorating.”
I pursed my lips to avoid a smile. I loved that despite Calliope not knowing Beau all that well yet, she never shied from calling him on his bullshit.
“That was me,” I agreed sheepishly. I didn’t do all of this in an attempt to gain credit from all of these women.
I hadn’t even known they were all coming and certainly hadn’t planned on interacting with them.
Plus, I felt a small need to defend Beau, especially after what he’d shared last night.
He didn’t have the capacity to think of potion-making stations because he was still held captive by the memories of last year.
“It’s amazing.” Nora looked around with wide eyes before smiling kindly at me.
“I’m stealing all of these ideas for June’s birthday party,” Fiona piped in, her accent making her all the more cool and interesting. And she was already plenty cool with her effortless style, a great sense of humor, and a casual ease with her daughter that was inspiring.
All of these women modeled motherhood in a way I’d never seen. They loved so completely, so out loud, nurturing and adoring their children. I hadn’t entirely believed such a thing existed.
I felt so very happy for all the small people running around that backyard, knowing that they’d grow up with such love.
I sipped my champagne again, longing for that lightness in my limbs to carry me away from my past, my problems, the way my brain was only half listening to this conversation, the rest focused on Beau.
“Are you planning on continuing nannying for Beau once Clara is in kindergarten?” Nora asked, sipping her own drink.
I shook my head. “No, I’m here until she starts, then I’m going into my final year of nursing school. This has been a bit of a … sabbatical,” I explained, feeling immensely self-conscious that the conversation was still on me.
Beau didn’t ask me questions if he could avoid it, and I made myself scarce when his family was around.
Until that moment, I didn’t realize I’d avoided personal conversations for so long.
Even at nursing school, I’d been friendly but focused on my assignments and my jobs.
There were people I knew enough to have a study group with, but that was all.
My numerous roommates were in the same situation as me—working our asses off to get through college.
I never went to parties, didn’t bond with anyone like I fantasized I might, no lifelong friendships formed. I was too busy and too tired.
It was isolating, immensely lonely, to have no one who really knew me. Well, Clara did, but she was five years old and had only known me a few months.
“That sucks.” Nora frowned before covering her mouth with her hand. “I mean, it doesn’t suck that you’re going back to nursing school, that’s amazing. I already know you’ll be a wonderful nurse. I was hoping to steal you as a nanny.”
“Bitch, I was hoping to steal her!” Fiona cut in with faux aggression.
“Well, I can promise Michelin star meals,” Avery supplied. “Though not much else since my husband wouldn’t actually let you nanny.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s firmly in his ‘stay at home dad era.’ His words, not mine,” she added with a sly grin.
My body warmed under the attention of these women.
So much so that for a moment, I was almost tempted to throw it all away.
Literally discard the future I’d dreamed of—well, with some adjustments for reality—so I could nanny for these families.
So I could be around people who made me feel accepted and worthy.
Who showed me that mothers could be loving, happy.
But if I stayed, it wouldn’t be as one of them. I’d always be on the outside, looking in. And having to be near Beau?
No.
Not to mention I couldn’t be in Jupiter nannying and not see Clara every day. Not be her nanny.
“I would’ve loved to, if things were different,” I told Nora truthfully.