Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘T hank God, for modern medicine,’ Iris said, clinking her wine glass against Archer’s.
‘Cheers to that.’
Iris breathed a sigh of relief as she took her usual seat at the kitchen island. The Tylenol had worked to bring Olive’s temperature down and after an afternoon of The Price is Right , chicken soup, and coloring pumpkins—the closest food-related item to strawberries she could find in her new coloring book—she was slathered with Vicks, dosed with more meds, and peacefully sleeping in her bed. Iris could hardly believe they’d all survived the day.
She’d been a totally shitty nanny today, and if Archer hadn’t come home when he did, she didn’t really know what she would have done. As it turned out, she was right all along. Kids were terrifying and confusing, and she had no business taking care of one.
Which was half the reason she had to quit.
The other reasons were the equally terrifying and confusing feelings she’d had when she watched Archer brush the hair from Olive’s forehead and tell her she was going to be okay. He was such a good dad, even if he didn’t believe it yet. He came home and took care of that little girl even though he didn’t know what he was doing, either. And it had done something to Iris’s insides. Something scary. Something very different from all the horny feelings she’d been having about Archer since she arrived.
It made her feel tender and soft.
And she couldn’t go feeling all tender and soft for a man with a child. A child who she’d already decided was far too scary to care for, so full circle, it was all a bad idea and she needed to get the hell out of here ASAP.
She took another sip of wine to fortify herself.
‘Archer…’
‘Yeah?’ He looked up from his wine and he looked exhausted. He’d stepped up today but he was worried, too.
‘I … uh…’
Maybe this was actually a terrible time to quit. It would be pretty shitty to abandon him now, wouldn’t it? He’d have to scramble to find new care for Olive in the midst of her being sick.
Maybe she could tamp down those tender feelings for a few more weeks.
‘I’m just sorry I had to call you to come home. Feels like I really dropped the ball.’
‘Iris, I know you don’t have a lot of experience with kids.’
‘I … well…’
He held up a hand to stop her. ‘And I hired you, anyway. You’ve been exactly what Olive needs. She’s happier. She talks to me,’ he said with a little laugh. ‘Did you see her holding my hand when she dozed off today?’
His face transformed as he talked about her. He wasn’t exhausted anymore. He was practically glowing.
Damn it, there was that tender thing again.
‘I did see it. You did a great job with her today.’
‘Thanks.’ His smile deepened. ‘I was totally just winging it. But I couldn’t have done it without you.’
Iris scoffed. ‘You had your dad, the pediatrician, and WebMD. I think you would have been fine without me.’ In fact, she’d done nothing today but panic and immediately call for back-up.
‘Fine.’ He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted to do it without you.’
Oh, damn, damn, damn. Danger, Iris!
She smiled despite herself, and that tender spot grew.
‘I’m tired of pancakes,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d make us some real food tonight.’
‘Real food sounds good.’ She sat back and watched as he cooked, marveling at his hands and the deftness of his movements. She let him hypnotize her as he chopped garlic and fresh parsley. The kitchen soon smelled amazing as the garlic hit the hot olive oil in the pan.
‘What are you making?’ she asked over the sizzling sound filling the kitchen.
‘ Aglio e olio ,’ he responded with a panty-melting Italian accent. That certainly didn’t help anything.
‘You going to translate that for me or just leave me guessing?’
‘It’s pasta with olive oil and garlic. It’s really simple, actually.’
‘Everything just sounds better in Italian.’ Iris sighed wistfully. She’d never had the money to travel, but she had a list of places she’d love to visit someday. Italy ranked in the top five.
He smiled and his dimple deepened. ‘Agreed.’
The pasta water boiled and he dumped in a handful of spaghetti and a large pinch of salt.
‘I thought you exclusively cooked French food?’
‘The last restaurant I worked in was French. But I’ve worked in a lot of places. I spent a year in Italy.’
‘That must have been amazing.’
‘It was. Some of the best seafood I’ve ever had.’
‘You know,’ Iris said, the teasing tone back in her voice because she just couldn’t seem to help herself. ‘The Pasta Palace in Northville is hiring. Since you have so much experience with Italian food, I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have you.’
Archer looked at her like she’d suggested they eat out of the trash and not that he work for a popular Italian restaurant chain. ‘That place doesn’t serve Italian food.’
Iris bit back her laughter, but she was struggling to keep a straight face. ‘Are you sure? They seem to think that they do.’
His expression darkened. ‘I don’t know what that food is.’
Iris giggled. ‘You have to admit, though, people go bananas for those breadsticks.’
‘I don’t have to admit anything.’ He took a small mug and scooped pasta water into the pan with the garlic and the oil. Iris watched with interest. She was going to accuse him of being a food snob, but it all looked and smelled so good, that mocking him just seemed absurd now. He strained the spaghetti and tossed that in the pan, too, coating the pasta with the oil and garlic. Iris’s stomach grumbled in anticipation.
He took two plain white bowls from the cabinet and twirled a perfect nest of pasta in each bowl, sprinkling some fresh parsley and parmesan cheese on each portion. Iris wanted to crawl inside and live in that pasta nest forever.
‘That looks so good,’ she nearly moaned. Damn this man and his pasta-making skills! Resisting his adorable dad-ness was one thing, but serving up a big ol’ bowl of carbs and cheese was going to be another thing altogether.
‘ Buon appetito .’
‘Jesus, man. Just give me the food and cut that out.’
Archer smirked and slid the bowl across the island.
As expected, the meal was incredible. Like insanely good. Like so good that an hour ago Iris was planning her ‘I quit’ speech and now she was considering declaring her undying love for this man and his food. It was concerning.
But she was full and exhausted from this stressful day and between the food and the wine and Archer’s dimple, she had been lulled into a cozy contentment she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Maybe not since those days in Josie’s kitchen, watching her neighbor cook while she chatted to her about everything from her mom’s latest boyfriend to the bike she wanted for her birthday.
Was this why people wanted a partner? This feeling at the end of a rough day that they’d survived something together? She had to admit it was nice. She’d always had her mom and her aunt and her cousin. She collected friends like she collected new careers. But maybe having a partner would be different.
Sitting here, laughing and drinking with Archer. Decompressing after taking care of a sick kid all day, it was … it was something she could maybe see herself wanting.
Someday.
Not today.
Because today he was still her boss. And today she didn’t want to hurt Olive. And she still wasn’t convinced she’d ever want this responsibility full-time.
Today was the most worried she’d been since the time they were nine and Bex had flipped over the handlebars of her bike and bashed her face on the sidewalk. Iris had never run home faster, tears streaming down her face the whole way, screaming for her mother to come help.
‘Today was rough,’ she said, pushing away her empty plate.
‘Yeah, but we figured it out.’ They were in their usual positions, Iris on her stool on one side of the island and Archer standing on the other side, leaning against the counter behind him. Per usual, his arms were across his chest.
She wished he was closer. She shouldn’t but she did. She wished he would lean across the island like he had the last time, the time when he’d sucked her finger into his mouth. She wished he would do more things like that.
She shouldn’t. But she did.
‘I should get to bed.’
‘Okay.’ Archer was watching her, studying her with dark eyes like he knew what she wished and that he did, too. But he didn’t budge. Just held himself still, only his eyes moving to follow her down from her stool.
‘Thanks for dinner.’
‘Anytime.’ His voice was low and deep, vibrating through her. It was clear that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But still, he didn’t move.
He was protecting himself. He was protecting Olive.
A one-night stand with the nanny wouldn’t help either of them. And in the end it wouldn’t help Iris either.
Be strong, Iris.
‘Goodnight, Archer.’
The muscle in his jaw ticked.
‘Night, Iris.’
He held steady, but she felt the heat of his stare the whole way back to her room.
* * *
Olive was home sick the next day, of course. She obviously needed more time to rest, and Iris was not about to break the twenty-four-hour fever-free rule and piss off that school nurse. But she had convinced Archer that he could go to work today and she would man the sick kid. Now that she was armed with plenty of over-the-counter fever reducers and a working knowledge of Olive’s names for various symptoms (‘eyeballs hurting’ meant she had a headache and the fever was on the rise, a ‘scratchy neck’ meant a sore throat), she was feeling slightly more confident than yesterday.
That, and Archer had assured her multiple times before he left this morning at the ungodly hour of 5am that he was just a phone call away and Iris could call at any time and he would come home regardless of what was happening at the diner.
She had to admit, that did make her feel better.
‘How are we feeling so far this morning?’
Olive was curled up on the couch with her trusty narwhal stuffy and a cup filled with OJ. Turned out the trick was ice and a straw to get her to actually drink it.
‘Better,’ she said, taking a sip of juice. ‘Can I go to school?’
Iris plopped down on the couch next to her. ‘Nope. Not today.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re still sick.’
‘I don’t feel sick today.’ Olive’s face was too pale with dark circles under her eyes.
‘You’re definitely still sick. Sorry.’
Olive’s mouth turned down in a pout. ‘But it’s library day and now I won’t get new books.’
Iris glanced at the stack of unread books littering the coffee table. ‘You have a ton of books.’
‘But I want new ones.’
‘Well, if I send you to school they will just send you back. That’s the rules, kid. You don’t want to get all your friends sick, right?’
Olive shrugged like she didn’t really care if she got her friends sick, she just wanted new books.
‘How about this,’ Iris said, doing her best to avoid a meltdown from her or the child. ‘Once you’re better, I’ll take you to the public library and you can take out as many books as you want.’
Olive’s face lit up at that promise.
‘Really?’
‘Yep.’
‘Can I take out one-hundred and fifty?’ One-hundred and fifty was Olive’s current favorite number.
‘Can you carry one-hundred and fifty?’
Olive thought about that for a minute before declaring ‘Probably.’
Iris smiled. ‘I like your confidence. Now drink your juice.’
They settled in for the day, binge-watching Olive’s favorite shows all morning until she dozed off with her head in Iris’s lap. Her face was warm but not hot, which Iris found encouraging. She brushed a piece of dark hair from Olive’s face. It was damp from sweat, but somehow Iris didn’t find that as gross as she once would have. At the moment, she was just happy that Olive was feeling better and that she was napping, even though Iris now had to pee and was stuck until Olive woke up because she sure as hell wasn’t going to wake her.
Before Olive had fallen asleep, they’d been watching her latest favorite cooking show. Iris watched three chefs come up with crazy concoctions based on surprise ingredients. She tried to focus on the show, but her brain insisted on drifting to Archer and how much she liked watching him cook. About the way his precise chopping and dicing contrasted with his messy hair and scruffy stubble. About how he looked when he was worried about Olive.
Okay, so Iris was still refusing to have daddy issues, but she’d be a big fat liar if she said it wasn’t doing all kinds of things to her to watch Archer take care of his daughter. It was objectively hot. She was pretty sure it was some sort of evolutionary thing, right? As though her cavewoman brain was like, Oh, a man who can take care of his offspring? Hot .
Ugh. She nearly groaned out loud at her own stupidity, but the sleeping girl in her lap kept her quiet. Speaking of evolutionary urges, the small cuteness of this creature was obviously designed to lure her in.
She had never been one to coo over people’s babies (she was pretty sure they all looked the same) or to volunteer to babysit her friend’s children, but this one, Olive, whom she now knew as a complete person, well, the kid was kinda growing on her.
This whole thing was a mess.
She was here to do a job. She’d taken it in the first place because she felt bad that Archer was in this position and because she needed a reasonable place to live. She needed to remember that. Archer was doing much better in the dad department, so it wouldn’t be so bad when she bailed, right?
Olive stirred in her lap, a little drool streaming onto Iris’s leg. Okay, that was still gross.
She turned her head and blinked her big, please-don’t-eat-me-because-I’m-adorable eyes open. The small smile Olive gave, like she was happy Iris was there, made Iris’s heart feel weird.
‘Hi, Iris.’
‘Hey, kid. Have a nice nap?’
‘I didn’t nap.’
‘Okay, sorry. My mistake. You just had your eyes closed and you were snoring like this…’ Iris did her best super loud snoring impression and Olive giggled.
‘I was not.’
‘You definitely were.’
‘Iris?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Are you going to be my mom soon?’
That heart feeling got even weirder. Some bizarre combination of panic and happiness shot through her body and made Iris dizzy.
‘I’m your nanny, remember?’
Olive sat up and faced her on the couch. ‘Yeah, but you’re sort of like a mom.’
Iris frowned. How to explain this? ‘I take care of you when your dad’s at work, sweetie, but I’m not a mom.’
‘But you could be.’
‘I … well…’
‘Because Addison at school said her dad got married again and now she has two moms and a dad and I don’t even have one mom anymore and that’s not really fair. So, if you married my new dad then I would have one mom and one dad and that would be fair.’
Oh, Christ.
‘Well, families aren’t really a numbers game.’
Olive frowned.
‘What I mean is,’ Iris went on. ‘It’s not really about how many of everything you have, it’s more about having people who love you. And as long as you have some of those, then you have a family. And you have a dad and a grandma and all those new grandparents who love you so much and that’s amazing.’
‘And you? You’re in my family, too, right?’
Those eyes! Iris swallowed the lump that had inexplicably formed in her throat.
‘I am…’
What was she supposed to say? I’m on the staff? Your dad pays me to care about you? None of those things were right. She wasn’t even sure they were true anymore. Not entirely. She did care about this little person.
‘I am. I care about you, too, Olive.’
Olive’s frown tentatively turned up at the corners.
‘But I’m not your mom. And I’m not going to marry your dad.’
The frown was back.
‘But you might.’
‘No, Olive. Definitely not.’ She had to shut this down right now. Sure, she had the hots for Archer, but she had no intention of marrying him or possibly anyone for that matter, and this whole conversation was dredging up way too many memories about the men her mother had dated and the hope that she, little Iris, had each time that maybe this one would stick around. She wasn’t going to stick around, and she needed Olive to understand that. She wouldn’t get this little girl’s hopes up like hers had been so many times.
‘But my teacher says, never say never!’
Iris pinched the bridge of her nose. Was that fever gone yet? Because this kid needed to go back to school ASAP.
‘Look, Olive. I know you miss your mom, but I can’t be your new mom. I’m sorry.’ There. Just rip off the Band-Aid.
Shit. Tears .
Rip off the Band-Aid?! Kids hated that. Just last week she’d pulled off Olive’s old Band-Aid too quickly and she had screamed and then cried about it until Iris bribed her with a lollipop.
‘Come here.’ She scooped Olive into her arms and made vaguely comforting noises into her hair until they were both a bit calmer. Marry her dad?! Become her new mom?! Yikes. Things had escalated at an alarming rate and Iris was a little afraid that if she stared into Olive’s big eyes for much longer, she might just give in to it all.
And the longer she held Olive in her arms, the more she thought maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
Which was crazy.
Iris did not want kids. She did not want to be a nanny. She shouldn’t want to be here cuddling this sticky, sweaty child in her arms and yet, here she was, sticky and sweaty, and not wanting to be anywhere else.
She’d thought Archer was the problem, her undeniable attraction to him, her tender feelings when she caught him looking at Olive, like he was both terrified and delighted by her. But what if the kid was the problem? What if Iris fell in love with Olive?
How would she leave, then?
How would she explain to those big eyes that not only was she never going to be her mom, she also wasn’t going to take care of her every day?
Iris had made some big mistakes. She’d clearly miscalculated this whole thing. And now she was stuck. Literally. Olive was wrapped around her like a slightly damp koala bear.
Iris smiled into her hair.
‘Come on. I bought Popsicles. They’ll help with your scratchy neck.’ She stood up with Olive still clinging to her. ‘What flavor do you want?’
‘I want a blue one.’
‘Blue isn’t a flavor,’ Iris attempted to explain as they walked out to the kitchen.
‘Blue is the best flavor,’ Olive told her as Iris set her down on a stool and grabbed a Popsicle from the freezer. She laughed, despite herself.
‘Okay. Here’s a blue flavored Popsicle. It tastes just like the elusive blue Popsicle plant that grows in the rainforest.’
Olive grinned. ‘Thank you.’ She took a big lick. ‘I love you, Iris,’ she said, still innocently slurping on her Popsicle. Not realizing she was tearing Iris up inside with her words. ‘And I love blue Popsicles,’ she sang, happily swinging her feet below the stool.
‘I’m glad you like them,’ Iris said, swallowing the rest. This was just a job. A job like all the others she’d had and quit. And eventually, she’d quit this one, too.
But not yet.