8. Xaden
EIGHT
Xaden
“I just wasn’t expecting you. That’s all.”
I smile at Amy, holding out my hand as I walk her back to my office. Surprised is definitely an understatement, but I can’t be all that shocked.
Amy has a habit of just dropping in unannounced. After a few weeks of not seeing her in person, I should have expected her to pull another one of her “visits.”
“Oh, fine. Fine. But seriously, that’s who you replace that thief with? I mean, come on. She’s like twelve. She can’t possibly know how to handle a four-year-old, let alone one that’s such a special case.”
My stomach clenches as I instinctively duck my chin back toward myself. Amy’s words hit like a slap in the face, and I’m not sure which claim to address first.
“She’s not twelve, Amy. And Ivy has several certifications and a degree in early childcare.”
Waving her hand at me, Amy perches on the arm of the wingback chair in my office, her weight making the leather squeak.
She’s always been such a presence in my life, and I remember her being exactly this loud and independent in college, even during freshman year.
Tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, Amy tilts her head at me, raising her brows up to her hairline. I know she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying, and I really don’t have time for this.
“And what exactly did you mean by ‘special case?’”
That makes her swallow, and Amy looks down at the floor before glancing back up at me with an overly sympathetic expression.
“I just mean it takes care to handle a child that’s been through a significant loss. Without Maeve…Daisy just has different requirements than others.”
Nausea crawls up the back of my throat, and I sigh. I hate thinking about this. I know that Daisy has a…“different” life than other kids, but I want her to feel normal, not like she needs special treatment.
“Ivy has been great with Daisy. Trust me. I made sure to watch them play and everything. Hell, Ivy’s the first person aside from me who’s been able to get Daisy to laugh.”
Amy stands up from the chair, walks over, and puts her hands on either side of my face. She’s always been a rather touchy-feely kind of person, and I try not to flinch at the contact.
“I just worry about you. After that last nanny, ugh! You could have both been really hurt thanks to her actions, and I don’t want to see either of you get hurt. Ever.”
Taking Amy’s hands and holding them between us, I smile, my brows going up as I try to make my words really sink into her brain.
“I know, Amy. I do. Everything is fine. It’s great even. It’s only been a few days, and already Daisy seems happier, and I’ve been able to work uninterrupted, which means I get done sooner. It’s a win-win.”
She still frowns, her nose crinkling as she pulls her hands away. I think she might actually give me some space, and she does step back, but not without straightening my already straight tie.
“Alright, whatever you say, Xade. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when something happens.” She turns back to face me as she stands near the door. “And you know that I’d be happy to take her with me and John any time.”
I can’t deny that she’s been more than helpful on the babysitting front, and I should probably cut Amy more slack. She’s a single parent, too, divorced, but still.
“Thanks, Amy. I’ll be sure to reach out more. We should take the kids somewhere soon.”
“We should!” She claps her hands together, then hikes her slim purse up higher on her shoulder. “Well, I need to get to the office, but I’ll text you. And remember, I’m a phone call away whenever you need to talk or have a night out.”
Forcing a grin, I nod, and Amy takes off.
I’m not sure why I always feel awkward around Amy since Maeve died, but I do. We’ve known each other for ages, but now…I don’t know.
It’s like whenever I’m alone with her, I feel like Amy is…flirting with me? No, I’m sure that’s all in my head. She was best friends with Maeve, and Amy isn’t like that.
“How’s it going in here? Did you want me to bring you some coffee?”
I’m shaken from my thoughts by Ivy’s voice, and I straighten up as I walk toward her, where she stands on the threshold of my office.
“No, thanks. I’m all good. I already had three cups.”
“Careful there, buddy. You’re going to be more jittery than a hampster on crack.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Ha, how about a switch to water?”
Ivy nods, and I follow her out into the kitchen. When we get there, I head to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water while Ivy hangs back in the living room.
There’s a beat of silence, and when I turn around, I can see Ivy’s expression shift. She’s looking over the mantlepiece again—where the few pictures of Maeve sit—and her lips curl between her teeth.
“What is it?”
Ivy sighs. “I’m sorry, I just…who was that? She’s…quite the character.”
That forces out another laugh, and I join Ivy in front of the mantle, raking my eyes over the memories captured in photographs.
“That was Amy. She’s an old friend from college. She likes to drop in sometimes. She…she was very close friends with Maeve and me. When she passed,” my throat closes for a second, and I’m forced to swallow, “umm, Amy helped out a lot. She was there for me when I was dealing with the aftermath. She’s a single mom, so she understood a bit of what I was going through with Daisy because of her son, John.”
“Oh,” Ivy’s eyes go wide, that pretty green color lighting up as the sun hits them, “okay! That makes so much more sense now.”
I can see tension bleed from Ivy’s shoulders as she nods slightly.
“I saw her on the doorstep. She, umm, seemed confused about why I was there.”
Huffing out a breath through my nose as I consider my words, I wag my head from side to side. “Yeah, she didn’t know I hired you. She’s…protective. Amy was very upset that the previous hire stole from me.”
“As she should be, and it’s actually kind of sweet. She’s clearly a good friend. I’m glad you have someone who understands a bit of what you’re going through.”
“Thanks.”
We both smile, but that silence creeps back in, and I catch Ivy’s eyes going to the photos again. She studies them as I watch her, and in that quiet, it’s like I can feel the past playing tug-o-war with the present.
When Ivy looks back at me, it seems like there’s a question right on the tip of her tongue. I can see that she wants to ask something, her lips slightly parted with her brows raised.
But she shakes herself and dismisses it.
Is she curious about Maeve? Why doesn’t she just ask?
Still, in the momentary silence, with Ivy’s eyes back on the picture frames, I have to admit to myself that it would be awkward for anyone to ask.
Besides all that, I don’t really want to answer any questions that Ivy puts out there. I don’t want to talk about Maeve.
I never do.
So why do I care now?
Part of me knows there’s an easy answer to that particular question. I care because I want to trust Ivy. I want to let her in and get to know her.
That would mean she learned about me, of course, and the idea of reciprocating the information makes my guts turn cold.
Because then she’d ask about how it happened, and if I told the truth, if Ivy saw me for what I really am…
Shaking myself, I clear my throat and offer a mean-nothing smile. “You okay? You got…quiet.”
Ivy shakes herself in the same way, pushing away thoughts that appear to be just as cheery as mine based on her expression.
“Yes, sorry. I’m fine.” She sucks in a breath, mirroring my polite grin. “But anywho, I need to go help Daisy. She wants an Elsa braid.”
Laughing lightly, I gesture up toward the stairs. “Best not keep the princess waiting then.”
She laughs back, and I watch—frozen there in front of the reminders of my past—as Ivy jogs up the stairs and disappears down the hall toward Daisy’s room.
You killed her. You can’t get close to anyone. Stay back.
My pulse ticks up, and I shut my eyes, trying to breathe around the building panic. Behind my lids, I can see Ivy’s easy smile, the way it lights up her peridot irises when she laughs.
I can’t deny how curious I am about Ivy—her life, her friends, where she came from. She stirs that longing for connection that I haven’t felt in ages.
It’s impossible to deny how easy she is to get along with, and that natural air of down-to-earth acceptance is like a balm to my healing wounds.
What’s more, as much as I assumed it would never happen again, I can feel the rusty cogs inside me come to life when she’s around, wanting to be near her, close .
I’m attracted to her. I’m attracted to Ivy.
It’s so obvious, and still, the thoughts hit me like a freight train. I can’t be attracted to the nanny. Hell, I can’t be attracted to anyone, let alone a woman who is a fair number of years younger than me and knows nothing about the darkness I carry around at all times.
No, Xade. Not after Maeve. No.
Pushing myself into motion, I head back to my office. I need to get my work done so that I can be with Daisy today. That’s the most important thing.
“Hang on, honey! I’m just going to fill it with water.”
As I sit down behind my desk, the door still open so that I can see down the hall and into the kitchen, Ivy runs past with a spray bottle.
I can’t help but watch her as she stands at the sink to fill it up. She seems totally fine, downright happy, and it’s all because she’s doing my kid’s hair.
But then it happens—like it always does.
Ivy’s face falls as she pulls her cell out of her jeans pocket. When she looks down at the screen, her mouth drops open.
She looks…scared.
What is that about? What are you hiding?
She’s never answered me when I’ve asked what’s wrong, always playing it off like it’s nothing. But I know something is there. I’ve studied people, become an expert at reading dangerous situations, and there’s something Ivy isn’t saying.
What is it, Ivy? Who keeps texting you that makes you so upset? Who…are you?