Chapter 4 Thane #2
“But what about Eilidh?”
I sighed. “Some other time.”
“But I promised her today.” Regan crossed her arms again and tilted her chin stubbornly. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t break my promises.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
I cursed myself as soon as the words slipped out.
Regan stepped back as if I’d punched her in the gut.
The remorse I’d experienced earlier was nothing compared to now. “Regan—”
She held up a hand, cutting me off. “I have no idea what my sister has told you about me. And I don’t care. I love her dearly. In fact, she’s the person I love most in this world.”
I heard the sincerity in her words, but it confused me, considering she’d abandoned Robyn when she needed her little sister the most.
“But Robbie and I are different people, and with a little distance, I realized our parents kind of turned us into exaggerated versions of who we really are. I think that made her see me in a way that wasn’t reality.
I’ve got this wild reputation that I don’t deserve, like I’m not someone a person can count on. But I am.”
I gave her a flat smile. “Regan … when you don’t answer your sister’s calls or emails after someone almost murders her—twice—that is the very definition of someone a person cannot count on.”
Tears brightened her pretty eyes, but I refused to be moved by them. I’d fallen for pretty, false tears before. A redhead who liked to play the victim.
However, Regan swallowed hard, blinked rapidly to push back the tears, and threw her shoulders back.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to Robyn, but I’m here to do better.
To be better for her. And I don’t need anyone to believe that.
Words are just words. My actions will speak for themselves.
” Her eyes narrowed. “So this is me. I don’t break my promises.
And I promised a sweet little girl I’d braid her hair today. ”
Feeling my resolve crumble, I grumbled and gestured toward the house. “Come on in.”
The woman beamed those bloody dimples at me as she sashayed past. “You’ve got coffee, right?”
“Yes.” I followed her inside. “Would you like a pastry with that, madam?”
Ignoring my sarcasm, she replied with annoying perkiness, “Sure!” and then side-eyed me as we walked into the house. “You weren’t kidding about pastries, right? Because you got my hopes up to here.” She raised her arm past her head.
Trying not to laugh at her playfulness, I assured her, “Not kidding. I bought them to prepare for Ms. Redburn’s early visit. Apparently, however, ‘pastries are an unhealthy breakfast temptation to have around children.’”
Regan snorted. “What an uptight bore. I’m a way better candidate than she is.” She winked at me. Actually winked at me.
Refusing to be charmed by Robyn’s sister, I set about heating the coffee and setting a plate out for her to choose from the array of pastries.
Turning to look at Regan, I watched as she moved around, taking in the place.
It was the same layout as Lachlan’s, but my late wife, Fran, had chosen a more traditional shaker-style kitchen.
As if the thought of Fran had conjured her presence, Regan caught sight of the wall that led toward the front entrance—the wall with all our family photographs.
I grew still as she walked over and studied the images.
Knowing it was coming, I braced myself as she turned to ask in a soft, gentle tone, “Where’s their mom?”
The hollowness that always followed a mention or thought of Fran opened in my chest as I crossed the room to stand with Regan. I brushed a thumb over one of the framed photographs.
Me and Fran on our wedding day.
“Francine died,” I replied. “Two months after Eilidh was born.”
“I’m so sorry.” I felt her hand on my shoulder, the gentle squeeze of comfort.
Shrugging off her touch, I marched back into the kitchen. “How do you take your coffee?”
Silence followed my question, but to my relief, it was soon followed by, “Milk, two sugars.”
I raised an eyebrow, grateful for the change of subject. She returned to the island, her expression a little wary. “Two sugars?”
Regan gave me a half-hearted smile. “Sweet tooth.”
“Dad?”
Lewis stood at the bottom of the staircase in his Marvel pajamas, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he stared curiously at Regan.
“Hey, bud.” I strolled over to my son to give him a morning kiss on his head. “Your sister still sleeping?”
Lewis nodded, his focus on Regan.
“Morning.” She gave him a little wave.
In answer, Lewis surprised me by walking over to climb a little sluggishly onto the stool beside her. Unlike Eilidh, who woke up bright and bubbly, Lewis was like his old man and needed time to wake up. He rarely talked until he’d eaten breakfast.
“Hi,” he said to Regan. “You came.”
“I promised I would.”
“Eils will be glad.” Lewis yawned and then asked randomly, “Have you seen the Red Sox play?”
My son liked American baseball. Watching their interaction in curiosity, I pushed Regan’s coffee and a plate for her pastry toward her, took her thanks, and got Lewis’s breakfast together.
All the while, I listened to the two of them chat about baseball.
Regan’s dad was into baseball, so she’d gone to games when she was younger, but she admitted she wasn’t one for sports.
Though, she announced proudly, Robyn was going to teach her MMA.
Even when I had put a bowl of cereal and juice in front of my son, Lewis didn’t take his eyes off Regan. She chatted animatedly with him about the small baseball team his friends had formed, and I noted how relaxed Lewis was.
Lewis wasn’t even three years old when his mum died. Like his father and his uncle Lachlan, he was serious by nature. He was also protective of his family and sister, and shy of strangers. He’d never really taken to anyone outside the family, including Robyn and Lucy, the way Eilidh had.
But there he was smiling and giggling at Regan’s story about a time in high school when she was supposed to be guarding home plate and someone walked by with a hot dog, and she was so busy trying to persuade them that the hot dog should be hers that she let someone slide into home.
“Did you get the hot dog?” Lewis asked.
Regan grinned mischievously. “Best hot dog ever.”
So focused on how my son interacted with this woman, this near stranger, I didn’t hear Eilidh come down the stairs.
“Regan!” my daughter squealed, and I turned to watch her almost trip off the last step in her excitement to get to Robyn’s sister.
Regan hopped off her stool to catch Eilidh as she flew at her. Despite her slender build, she hauled Eilidh into her arms with ease, beaming at her. “Hey, superstar.”
Eilidh clasped Regan’s face in the palm of her hands and said with an almost grown-up tenderness, “You came!”
And just like that, I saw the genuine fondness soften Regan’s expression. “I keep my promises.”
Fuck.
I couldn’t possibly be considering accepting Regan’s proposal.
It was preposterous. My kids hadn’t even known the woman for twenty-four hours. And yet, they’d bonded with her faster than I’d seen them take to anyone.
Moreover, I’d liked how she’d handled Lewis at dinner. What she’d said about kindness and the way she’d defused the tension at the table. She had a knack for knowing just the right thing to say to the children to settle them.
Lachlan would be against it.
So would Robyn.
Or would they?
Regan had worked as a professional nanny, so clearly, other parents had trusted her with their kids.
And I was in a real bind.
I started work on Monday, and I still had no nanny.
What was I even thinking?
No.
I hadn’t been entirely lying when I said that hiring family wasn’t always a good idea. Besides, Robyn might not want Regan around for the next six months.
No.
Regan was out of the question. I’d just have to come up with something else. And fast.