4. Colin
4
COLIN
I turned onto Silvan Street and chuckled at the butterfly stakes in front of my house. I’d had a similar reaction nearly every night on my trip home. I hadn’t been a huge fan at the first viewing, but by this time, I saw Lily’s point. The houses on the street were very similar. It wasn’t exactly the reason why I’d picked the house when I was shopping around, but I had liked that they were all family homes. Nearly every house on the street had kids, and it was nothing unusual to see children playing catch or basketball, riding bikes or scooters.
That was the kind of place I wanted to raise my daughter. Her childhood would be safe, protected from the nastiness of the world. Nothing like my childhood. I’d always been close to my brothers, and we’d always looked out for each other, but that hadn’t been enough to keep us safe. Not when the biggest threat to our safety was our own father. Mom had kept him in check, at least a little, when the three of us were babies, but she hadn’t stuck around for the long haul. I was six on the day when she told us she was going to the grocery store and that she’d be back soon. Too young to wonder why she was bringing a suitcase with her to go to the grocery store. Too young to realize that she wasn’t coming back. I never saw her again after that day. And Dad, who had been drunken and abusive even when she was still around, became ten times worse after she was gone. We were lucky we didn’t starve, given the way he spent all his money on booze. Lucky he never managed to beat any of us to death in one of his rages—though he came close a couple of times. Lucky, most of all, that he didn’t manage to break our spirits or turn us into him.
The man we did pattern ourselves after—the one who taught us how to be honorable and decent—was Admiral Peter Anderson, who took us in and became our foster father when I was fourteen. He saved us in just about every way imaginable. It was his example I was trying to follow when I stepped up to adopt Sofia. I knew it was what the Admiral would have wanted me to do. I could only hope to be half as good to her as he had been to us. And part of that meant making sure she had everything she needed to be safe and happy, to grow and thrive. Giving her a nice home was part of it, but there was so much more. I wanted her to have a mother, family outings, game nights, holiday traditions. The picture-perfect existence I used to think only happened on TV shows. But that was what Zach had built with Carolyn, Chance with Mandy, Harris with Rachel, and Lee with Viktoria. Strong, happy marriages really were possible, and they resulted in children who felt secure and loved. That was what Sofia was going to have, even if I had to date every single woman in Springwell in order to find the right wife.
But tonight, I mostly just wished she had a less shitty dad. It had been a fourteen-hour day, which meant that I’d missed bedtime, missed reading Sofia a story. Even though Lily was there the whole time, and I knew that Sofia was being looked after, I still felt like a piece of garbage for not being there for her myself. I hated it when a time-sensitive project meant that I had to stay late and miss out on spending time with her. I didn’t want her to ever think that work was more important to me than her. Nothing was more important than her. I tried to tell her that a lot, but I could never be sure it was fully sinking in. With toddlers, I had learned, the only things you could be sure that they’d hear and retain would be the words you didn’t want them to repeat.
I pushed open the door to the kitchen. Lily sat on a stool at the island, eating from a takeout container. Two thoughts hit me simultaneously. One, I liked coming home to her. Lily had been with us for three weeks, and I was glad she was around. And two, whatever she was eating smelled great.
“I hoped you’d be home soon,” she said.
“Something wrong?” Tension shot through me. Was Sofia sick or hurt? I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had hit me. Lily was far too relaxed for that to be the case—and I was sure that if anything serious had happened, she would have called me to let me know.
“Not at all.” She smiled and pointed to a brown bag on the island next to her. “I got you dinner. Lasagna, breadsticks, and a salad. Come eat.”
I put my briefcase down and readily joined her. “Can’t thank you enough.” I popped the lid open on the meal and inhaled. Lunch had been a quick sandwich hours ago—I was famished.
“Good day?” I asked after taking a few bites of the cheesy lasagna.
“Fine,” she answered as she broke a breadstick in half. “It was warm enough that we could take a walk to the park and spend the morning there. I think she went down the slide a million times.”
“She likes that,” I said with a chuckle and pang of regret. I’d like to have been there with them. “Thanks again for the food. You didn’t have to.”
“It’s no trouble.” She swirled the breadstick in a container of marinara sauce.
“You know you’re welcome to help yourself to anything in the kitchen—including the appliances, if you feel like making anything.” Her apartment had its own bathroom but not its own kitchen. I’d included a microwave, a mini fridge, and a coffeemaker, but if she wanted anything more complicated, she’d have to come to the main house. I’d made that offer several times since she’d moved in, but I’d seen no signs that she’d taken me up on it, aside from preparing Sofia’s meals.
“You’ve told me.”
“But I haven’t noticed you taking much,” I said. She’d hardly put a dent in the food I had stored in the pantry and refrigerator.
“I’m happy with keeping it simple. A sandwich for dinner usually works just fine for me unless I have a particular craving for something else. I cooked so much as a kid that cooking now doesn’t have much appeal for me. Besides, it can be tricky to pare down recipes—and all the ones I know were meant to feed a lot of people.”
“That’s right, you said you were the oldest of a lot of siblings, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “I have two sisters and five brothers, all younger than me, which meant that when someone got hungry, they usually looked to me to take care of it. And with five boys, someone was always hungry.”
“Five? Dang, that’s a lot.” I was starting to understand her need to be her own person. My brother and I had banded together to survive. We’d looked out for each other, but I hadn’t been made to care for them. Zach had done his best to look out for me and Alex, but the three of us were so close in age that it had never really seemed like he was our caretaker. We were all equals—and old before our time. We didn’t have the luxury of normal childhoods. After Mom left, we had to grow up fast.
“Yeah. Plus, I’m a decent cook, but a messy one. Counters, floors, you name it, food will be stuck to it when I’m done.” She tilted her head toward the white appliances, cabinets, and counters. “Your kitchen is a little too perfect for me. I’m afraid I’ll stain something.”
“Stains can always be scrubbed out,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow at me, the perfect arch showing over the rim of her glasses. Some days she didn’t wear them, so I suspected she had contacts as well. I liked how the glasses looked on her. They set off her features, especially when her thick, dark hair was down as it was then. One curl brushed her shoulder, making my fingers itch to touch it. I’d had similar thoughts more than once in the past weeks, but I’d ruthlessly controlled them.
“Are you telling me you wouldn’t freak out if you came home and found cake batter splattered in the oven or grape juice oozing from the refrigerator?” she asked.
I chuckled. “Okay, I admit I’m a neat freak, but as part and parcel of that, I’ve got an arsenal of cleaning products and I know exactly how to use them. Feel free to make a mess.” I kept my response light. We both knew she had a point about me liking everything just so, and it was clear she was enjoying creating images that would bother me. I liked that she teased me, but I wanted to prove that I wasn’t that uptight.
Her lips curved up. “You went pale and broke out in a sweat when I suggested that Sofia might like some art supplies. I’m guessing that your analytical brain considered every possible stain, blob, and mark, as well as how to combat them, within thirty seconds. Am I right?”
“Maybe.” Okay, definitely . But once I had figured out how to deal with all the potential stains, I’d gone right out and bought the items she’d requested. Partly because I thought Sofia would like them and partly because my nanny had a way of asking that was tough to refuse.
“I was shocked you agreed. Tell me…” She dropped her voice low, and it took on a seductive edge. “Did going to the art supply store give you anxiety?”
“It was terrifying,” I said, playing along with her and enjoying the flirtation. “All that color and clutter.”
“Did you organize anything while you were there?” she asked.
I bit my lip. I had rearranged some paints that were in the wrong bins while I made my selections.
“You did.” Her laugh rang out, taking any sting out of her accusation. “Oh, that’s too funny. I’d like to have seen that.”
“Is Sofia enjoying the stuff I bought?” I’d gladly risk stains and blobs if it made my daughter happy.
“She is. We’ve been focusing on identifying shapes and colors so far, but the watercolors come out next.”
I contained the shiver that went through me at the thought, but I was also glad I’d hired the woman next to me. She was bringing Sofia joy and teaching her at the same time. That was exactly what I had hoped to get from a nanny. I was lucky to have found her, even if it was temporary. And I won’t ruin it by making a pass at her, no matter how tempting she might look when she’s teasing me.
“Thanks for what you’re doing with Sofia.” I was grateful every evening when I came home and found Sofia gleefully playing or contentedly asleep.
“That’s the job,” Lily said. “And she’s such a delight to be around that I don’t feel like I’m working. You’re lucky.”
“I know.” I felt my luck. Fatherhood wasn’t something I’d expected, not yet at least. I’d thought down the road I’d meet the right woman and we’d have kids, have that perfect family. I didn’t want to shortchange Sofia just because the circumstances were different.
“Can I ask a question?” She eyed me.
“Sure,” I said, unable to tell what direction her thoughts were taking.
“I’m curious about the display case in the living room with the decks of cards.” She propped her elbow on the island and turned toward me, resting her hand against the side of her face. “You don’t seem like a gambler or a collector, although some of the decks look old. My guess is that they mean something special to you.”
“They do,” I answered. “I’m a card player of sorts.”
“Really? What’s your game?”
“Well, I play poker with a group of guys once a week, but my real game is bridge.” What my brothers had termed “the complicated old-fashioned game.”
“Unusual choice for our generation. My parents and grandparents play, but I don’t think I know anyone younger who’s into the game.”
“Yeah. I have to go to the senior center to find partners.” The seniors always found it amusing when I showed up to their card nights. I hadn’t had as much time to do that since Sofia came into my life.
“There must be a story behind your love for the game,” she said. “Will you tell me?”
I considered saying no or brushing her off with a promise of telling her later, but something about her put me at ease. “You know that I’m close to Chance and Zach, and I’ve told you about Alex,” I began. “They’re good men.”
“Like you,” she interrupted softly.
“Thanks.” I accepted her words, feeling a little thrill at the unexpected compliment. “But part of the reason we all work so hard to be there for each other is because growing up was rough. For me and my brothers, our parents were shit. Mom left when I was six. Dad wasn’t a man who should have had children. Zach, Alex, and I survived by sticking together. By the time we were in our early teens, we were headed down the wrong road. Fortunately, a teens-at-risk program connected us with a retired admiral, Peter Anderson. He took us in, became our foster father, and through one hell of a lot of work and love on his part, turned us around.”
“That’s when you got close to Chance and the other McCallisters?”
“Actually, no. The Admiral and his brother—Chance’s dad—had a falling out years ago, when Chance was just a baby. Before I was even born. As far as we can tell, they never spoke again. Chance and his brothers grew up not even knowing that they had an uncle.”
Lily looked surprised. “Springwell’s a pretty small town,” she pointed out. “I would have thought everyone would know, even if the Admiral and Mr. McCallister never said anything about it.”
I shrugged. “I guess by the time Chance was old enough to be aware of what people were saying, it was already old news and no one thought to bring it up anymore.”
“So how did all of you find out?”
“Their dad died two and a half years ago. After the funeral, Chance was going through some old papers, and he found letters that the Admiral used to send his dad from his postings overseas. He started researching and asking around, and it wasn’t too long before he figured out the connection.”
“He couldn’t ask the Admiral?”
I shook my head. “He died five and a half years ago.”
“So they really never reconciled,” she mused. “That’s so sad. I can’t imagine living in the same town with your sibling and never talking to them—missing out on all the important milestones of their lives.”
“Are you close with all of your siblings?” I asked.
She smiled. “Yeah, I am. With the youngest ones, I’m kind of their second mom, since I did a lot of looking after them, which means it’s a different kind of closeness than what you have with Chance and your brothers, but we all stay in pretty constant contact. But wait, how did you get so close to Chance? I thought the two of you grew up together.”
“No, not really. I mean, we knew each other in passing, but I’m two years younger than Lee, the youngest McCallister brother, so it’s not like we had classes together. Chance was a senior in high school when I was still in eighth grade. But after Chance found those letters and started digging into the history between his dad and the Admiral, he reached out to me and my brothers to see what we knew—if the Admiral had told us anything.”
“Had he?”
“No, not directly.” He had talked to us a lot about how important family was, and how important it was for brothers to look after each other. Looking back now with new perspective, I had to wonder whether he’d been thinking about his own brother at those times…but I’d never really know for sure. “When Zach retired from the Navy and moved back to town, he went over to see Chance and his brothers and brought them some papers the Admiral had kept—letters from his brother and some other mementos. That was when the McCallisters basically told him they considered him to be part of the family now. They actually insisted that he move into their childhood home when he admitted that he didn’t have a place to stay yet. It was the house their dad had lived in, and they’d been considering selling it since none of them needed it—but it kind of became a family rest stop instead. Zach lived there for a stretch until he moved in with Carolyn, and Sofia and I lived there for a few months when I first came back to town.”
"Was it not white enough for you?” Lily teased with a grin. “Is that why you aren’t there anymore?”
Yes, actually—though that hadn’t been the whole reason, of course. “It was a little dated in a lot of ways,” I admitted. “Their dad did a good job of maintaining it so the building is still really solid, but the appliances were old and not in great shape, and the furniture wasn’t really kid-friendly. Plus, this location is better: closer to the park, lots of young families. These days, I only go back to the old house for our weekly poker games.”
“Oh, but this whole conversation started because I asked you about bridge!” she said, as if the reference to poker had reminded her. “Was it the Admiral who taught you to play bridge?”
“Yeah. He gauged our personalities and found a way to give each of us something special.” As a teen, I had pretended to my brothers that I didn’t like the game. In truth, I’d loved it. I liked the process of playing and winning, but I loved spending time with the Admiral and his old cronies.
“Bridge requires attention to detail and analytical skills,” she commented. “I can see why he chose that for you. I’m guessing those are his decks, then.”
“Some of them. Others I’ve picked up here and there in my travels. It’s kind of my way of honoring his memory.” I’d never expressed that to anyone before. My brothers were aware of it, but I hadn’t needed to explain to them my desire to maintain that connection with the Admiral.
“That’s really sweet. Thank you for sharing the story with me.” Her eyes were on me, and I expected to feel exposed, but I didn’t. I met her gaze, and a beat of heated silence passed.
How easy would it be to lean in and kiss her? As that thought crossed my mind, she slid off her stool and gathered up the remains of her dinner. Had she sensed what I had? I didn’t dare ask. If she had noticed the chemistry between us, then her choice to step away made it pretty clear that she didn’t think we should go there.
We shouldn’t go there. I was her boss, she was my employee; I was looking for a long-term commitment, and she didn’t want to be tied down. Besides, we were way too different. There were dozens of reasons why kissing would be a terrible idea.
But God, how I wanted to ignore them. I wanted to run my hands through that thick, beautiful hair, wanted to pull her close and feel her body pressed up against mine. Wanted to taste her tempting lips.
“Good night,” I said, as if to force myself to return to our business relationship. “I’ll be leaving early in the morning again, so you’ll have to get Sofia up.”
“Of course,” she said. “Good night.” She went out the back door, and a moment later I heard her enter her apartment. It took every ounce of determination I had to keep from following after her, knocking on her door, seeing if she’d let me in.
But instead, I cleaned up the kitchen and then headed upstairs to bed.