Chapter Six
Six
The next morning, before I left for work, I blocked the TV by standing between it and the couch, where Mia and Kitty lay head to head, their legs draped over its arms. Mia’s phone rested on her chest, while Kitty had The Art of War open on hers.
Their empty cereal bowls were stacked on the side table, but at least they’d folded up the sofa bed.
“Move, Jo!” Mia sat up on her elbows, craning her neck to try to see the TV. “I need to know if she’s going to flip out when she sees her best friend wearing the same dress as her!”
“What?” I turned over my shoulder to glance at the TV, where, sure enough, a glossy-haired sixteen-year-old in a tiara and bubble-gum-pink dress looked ready to burst into tears, and then whipped back around. “You aren’t supposed to watch without me!”
“She’s right,” Kitty said, and Mia clicked off the TV with a scowl.
“Thank you. I’m off to work and won’t be home until six, so we need to lay down some ground rules.”
Mia and Kitty groaned in unison, burying their faces in the couch pillows.
Usually, the kids came down for only two or three weeks.
I’d take some well-deserved vacation time and spend every hour with them that I could.
This was the first time I’d have to work while they were here, and I was looking forward to my two weeks off in July, even if I’d just be staying in Palm Beach.
“The rules won’t be bad, I promise. I’m the cool aunt, remember?”
“You’re our only aunt,” Kitty said.
Mia lifted her face from the pillow, her expression stricken. “You sound like a . . . a . . . mom.”
“Oh, shut up.” I grabbed one of the pillows they’d knocked to the floor and threw it at her face. “I’m serious. I’m going to be worried about you all day if you don’t listen.”
“All right, all right,” Mia said. She and Kitty sat up and smoothed their wrinkled pajamas, looking as serious as chairwomen at a board meeting.
“We’re ready for your presentation, Ms. Walker,” Mia said with a nod.
“Thank you.” I gave them a nod in return.
“While I’m at work, there’s no leaving the condo premises.
Keep your phones charged at all times. Text me every two hours so I know you’re okay.
My credit card is in the desk drawer, for emergencies only.
And no going into the water.” Kitty opened her mouth, and I added, “Pool or ocean.”
Mia broke from her mockingly serious demeanor. “What’s the point of spending the summer in Florida if we can’t go in the water? We’re not little kids anymore.”
She had a point, and if Samson hadn’t died, I probably would’ve let the girls go in the pool without an adult so long as they were together and texted me every hour. But things were different now. I knew if I allowed it, I’d be sick with worry all day.
“You can go in the water, just not while I’m gone,” I said, and the girls’ expressions went from disappointed to sour. “I only work three or four days a week right now. I promise we’ll make up for it on the days I have off. We’ll swim until we’re permanently pruney.”
Kitty placed her chin in her hands. “So what are we supposed to do all day?”
I looked around the condo. It wasn’t exactly the most teenager-friendly place. In truth, it was one Jo and Alex away from being a de facto nursing home, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t plenty to do.
“You can play games. I bet Old Gary would talk your ear off if you played shuffleboard with him. You can read a book.” I nodded to Kitty’s The Art of War. “I never said you couldn’t go to the beach, just stay out of the water. And I’m sure Belva wouldn’t mind a visit.”
Mia stared blankly at me. “I take it back. You don’t sound like a mom. You sound like a grandma. What has this place done to you?” She nudged Kitty. “Have you seen Jo’s knitting basket anywhere? I want to make Mom a scarf.”
I narrowed my eyes. If Mia was trying to make me feel guilty, it was working, but it wouldn’t change my mind. “I’m serious. You can basically do whatever you want, except—”
“Have any fun.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, not caring if I looked like a mom, or grandma, or school principal. Didn’t they understand I was only doing what I had to in order to make sure they were safe? “If you want to see it that way, I can’t stop you.”
“Aunt Jo,” Kitty said, her eyes lighting up with whatever idea had popped into her head. “Can we hang out with Greyson while you’re gone?”
Last night’s embarrassment leapt to the forefront of my mind, and I glanced out the window into the parking lot.
Maybe I could avoid seeing Alex for long enough that he’d forget about the whole thing, and then we could be neighborly.
“Yes. Just make sure she asks her dad. And I’d prefer if you three hung out either here or outside.
At least until we get to know them better. ” Not that I was planning on it.
Mia smirked. “Greyson’s dad sure knows you pretty well after last night.”
“Which is your fault,” I said, grabbing my purse and keys. “I’m off. Remember the rules. Text me every two hours.”
“Bye, Grandma!” they called out after me.
—
As soon as I arrived on deck, Nina grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the laundry room, her expression so serious I thought Captain Xav had fallen overboard.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my heart racing at the sight of her. She looked wild, her unicorn earrings quivering as she kicked the door shut behind her.
“He’s here!”
“Who’s here?”
“The new chef.” Nina threw herself onto a pile of dirty towels, looking as if all the joy had been drained out of her.
“Is that all?”
Nina’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, is that all?”
I lowered myself onto the floor across from her. “I take it you don’t like him.”
“Of course I don’t! He rearranged the drawers in the most nonsensical way and then had the nerve to ask me if I knew where the spiralizer was. Like I would know if we even had one!”
“But we do have a spiralizer, and you know exactly where it is.” I tried not to laugh. I knew Ollie leaving would make Nina moodier than usual, but I hadn’t prepared myself for how much she’d take it out on the new chef.
“That’s beside the point! Also, I think I know him from somewhere. He’s handsome but annoying, so he must be one of my Tinder dates gone bad. He hasn’t said anything about it, though, so he—”
“One of your Tinder dates gone bad? How many bad Tinder dates have you had?”
Nina shrugged. “How many does the average person have?”
“Why would I know? You know I’m anti–app dating. It’s too public.”
“Says the blogger. Well, whatever that number is, double it.” I stared at her. “What? This is Florida. We’ve got twice the bad eggs in the dating pool.”
“I think you’re just mad he’s not you know who.”
Nina let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on. You’ll see what I mean.”
I allowed Nina to pull me out of the laundry room and up to the galley. The new chef, who was dressed in the traditional white chef coat and black slim-fit chef pants, stood at the sink, his back to us as he scrubbed carrots and lined them up on a cutting board.
“Look,” Nina seethed. “Even the way he washes vegetables is annoying!”
I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re really being dramatic. He’s got a nice butt. You should be all over that.”
“I am not being dramatic!” she hissed. “And I don’t care how nice his ass is, he’s irritating.”
I shook my head. He could’ve been Jamie Oliver and Nina would’ve hated him. Deciding to nip this whole thing in the bud, I strode into the galley, giving Nina a wink before tapping him on the shoulder.
“Chef, I wanted to introduce myself. I’m . . .” But my voice trailed off when he turned around, and I took in the tousled hair, the honey eyes, the mouth that, every time I’d seen it, wore the hint of a smile.
Alex’s eyes widened in surprise, and the hinted smile bloomed into a real one. “Jo. Hello again. I’m sorry, but I have to ask . . . are you stalking me?”
I stared at him. He couldn’t be here. It was impossible. Too many coincidences. “Of course not, I—”
“Wait,” Nina said, practically sprinting into the galley. She looked from me to Alex, then back to me again. “You know this guy?”
My cheeks grew hotter as I fumbled for something to say. “We—”
“Live in the same building,” Alex said.
“Interesting.” Nina tapped a finger to her pursed lips, and dread pooled in my stomach as I watched her fit all the pieces together. She snapped her fingers, her face gleeful. “I knew I recognized you! You’re that guy from the bar!” She turned to me. “Jo, he’s that guy from the bar!”
This was only getting worse by the second. “I know, Nina.”
Nina grabbed my elbow, dragging me away from Alex and over to the far side of the galley. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Josephine, he’s the one you kissed!”
“I know!”
“And he lives in your building? Makes sense he’d be at Mitch’s . . . Oh my God.” Her eyes widened. “He’s Hot Single Dad!” she said, then clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized how loudly she’d said it. She turned to Alex. “I’m so sorry. What I meant to say is you’re that single dad.”
Alex looked as if he were trying not to laugh as he chopped carrots. “No harm done. I can’t deny I’m that single dad.”
“Great. Marvelous. Sorry again for the . . . slip of the tongue.” Nina turned to me, her voice a whisper again. “Jo,” Nina said, practically shaking me by the shoulders. “That guy from the bar is Greyson’s dad. He’s that guy from the bar and that single dad!”
I pushed her away from me. “I know, Nina! Everyone knows!”
Nina paused, then laughed so intensely she had to brace herself against the counter. Alex glanced at me and then at Nina, and I tried to avoid looking at either of them, sure I was about to spontaneously combust.