CHAPTER 14
Valentina
T he cool evening breeze brushes against my cheeks as we step into Central Park. The smell of fresh-cut grass and distant popcorn wafts through the air. It’s my fourth day at work, and already, Eden, Atticus, and Felix are weaving into my heart. They don’t have any after-school activities, so we have enough time to spend an afternoon together before I fulfill my weekly volunteer commitment at Lstars School this evening.
“Race you to the big oak!” Atticus, ever the enthusiast for anything that involves rapid velocity, challenges his siblings. He’s off before I can blink. His feet pound the path, kicking up the earthy smell of disturbed soil.
Felix, who always prefers to discuss his next game invention or to race cars on-screen rather than race himself, surprises me by joining the chase, his laughter bouncing along behind him. “Wait up!” he shouts, not quite as swift but every bit as spirited.
Eden hangs back, her arms crossed. She’s hit that age where enthusiasm battles the need to appear uninterested.
“Not a fan of racing today?” I nudge her elbow.
She shrugs. “Maybe I’ll just watch.”
“How about we find a good spot to sit? You can judge who touches the tree first.” At her nod, we make our way to a nearby bench.
As we settle, her gaze follows her brothers, and her lips curve. “Atticus thinks he’s a jet.”
“Yeah. He has more energy than all of us.” When he narrowly beats Felix to the oak tree, I clap. “And Felix isn’t far behind. Looks like his gaming skills are translating to speed.”
Eden laughs, the sound clear and carefree, a rarity for her. “He’s lucky I didn’t run. I’d win for sure.”
I laugh with her, grateful for the moment of connection. “Next time, you’ll have to prove it.”
“Maybe.”
The setting sun casts a golden glow over Central Park, illuminating playing children, bikers, and walkers. Signs of spring abound among the budding trees and almost green grass.
The boys jog back, faces flushed.
“Did you see that? I was superfast!” Atticus beams, and a fist pump expresses his excitement.
“You were like a rocket.” I put up my palm for his high five, then do the same for Felix’s. “And you were right on his tail. Impressive!”
Felix’s eyes light up. “Next time, I’ll beat him.”
We play five hundred next, a game I introduce to the kids using the football I brought along. Intrigued, even Eden wants to play. But it doesn’t seem I’m holding the football right based on Atticus.
“Daddy says your hand should form a V when you hold the ball.” He uses his hands to show me how I should grip the ball.
Then Eden and Felix chime in to guide me on my stance and hold, and I end up learning more about football basics from the kids than they do from me. At last, I glance at my phone. “Yikes, guys, it’s almost six, and I need to be at the middle school by seven-fifteen.” It’s my last night for ESL this season.
They groan, not ready to let me cut our fun short.
“How about we grab some ice cream on the way home?”
“Sounds good to me.” Eden shrugs, and the boys sprint ahead.
“Can we get different flavors?” Atticus asks as we exit the park.
“Of course. You guys can pick your flavors.”
At the stand, the kids take their time with their choices. Once everyone is happy with sprinkle-filled ice-cream cones, we walk home. Their laughter and the distant strumming of a street musician create a melody sweet to my ears.
I use this time of closeness to mention chore charts. When they ask what they are, I explain. “We’ll make some during your spring break.”
The kids lick their ice-cream cones as we stroll. The boys’ faces are a sticky mess, but they need to shower soon anyway. I like that we can walk to the park and shops and restaurants here. Not that I can afford to shop here, but seeing small businesses thriving fascinates me.
A tap on my fingers pulls me back, and when I look down, it’s Eden’s pinkie. Her linking her pinkie to mine feels like a victory. Maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to fit into their world, not just as a caregiver, but as someone they could trust and enjoy having around. The thought warms me more than the setting sun, promising more shared smiles and park walks in the days to come.
That’s how the following week unfolds. On days when the boys don’t have soccer practice and Eden doesn’t have dance, they prefer going to the park. I try not to make ice cream before dinner a habit, especially after hearing an earful from Jason last Thursday when Atticus said he’d eaten ice cream and wasn’t hungry.
We fill our time with games, first practicing how to hold a volleyball at Eden’s request and then playing soccer and football with the boys. They’ve sure got an impressive understanding of football!
My second week wraps up at the boys’ soccer game on Friday night. Saying goodbye to them until Sunday saddens me. It seems they feel the same. Atticus clings to one arm and Felix to the other, both pleading with me to join them for the night in Meadowbrook.
I haven’t stayed the night in Meadowbrook yet. I could’ve last Sunday. But after watching the kids while Jason and his friends gathered for guy time, I returned to Brooklyn to see my nephews. That was the only evening their mom was in town for Carlos to see them.
Plus, Judy and Phil just spent time in the quaint town with their grandchildren before leaving on their long vacation.
“We’ll see her on Sunday.” Jason assures them as I slide into the taxi parked in front of Judy’s Manhattan house. While Jason and I haven’t sat down to talk since that day in the studio, we tolerate each other. At least, that’s my hope. It’s hard to tell with him. One minute, he’s smiling and watching me play with the kids in the backyard—the next, he’s moody and brooding. Like two days ago when I was about to leave after taking a glass of water to Judy.
We collided in the kitchen doorway—me stepping out, him stepping in. In our clumsy dance to avoid each other, my water ended up on his shirt.
“What’s with your clumsiness?” he seethed.
Intoxicated by his scent, I forgot my blunder and teased, “Takes a klutz to know one, Grumps.”
We survived that mishap. We can survive whatever else happens.
Either way, I’m looking forward to spending more time with the kids in their small town.
***
Jason
S UNDAY AFTERNOON GATHERINGS are hit or miss with friends, depending on how we each handle our chaotic parenting schedules. It’s always a highlight when we can make it happen.
I’m settled into a lawn chair. A chilly breeze sweeps over the flickering campfire in the open space by the road and carries the kids’ laughter from behind us.
Closer to my house, Valentina has become the focus, blowing bubbles that drift like dreams until eager hands pop them. The children surround her, their happiness evident with each bubble they burst.
“What happened to the cheese dogs I brought?” Russ’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I wave him off.
It was chaotic when he dropped off his contribution—minutes before Valentina arrived. I even attempted picking up the kids’ toys from the kitchen and living room so it would look cleaner than the last two times she came over.
“You should be glad to eat whatever you’re handed.” I sink my teeth into a hamburger with a satisfying crunch of lettuce.
“I see you didn’t turn this into charcoal this time.” Ethan holds up his burger, his smirk directed at Russ.
“The flames got out of hand last week.” Russ shifts in his chair, his long legs too close to the fire ring. I remind him of his near disaster with the steaks last month.
“I’m just glad we have Valentina watching the kids today.” Liam bites into his hot dog. His superhero cape from entertaining the kids earlier still drapes his shoulders. “I can eat this in one go without having to stop for a rescue mission.”
I lean back. The cold water bottle in my grip offers a mild relief from the fire’s residual heat.
Across the lawn, Valentina commands the kids’ attention with the ease of a seasoned entertainer. Something about her just draws them in—like iron to a magnet. Normally, one of my friends’ nannies would be handling this, rotating each Sunday. But last Sunday and today with Valentina present, it’s only fair to have my nanny help out. After all, I never actually had one, except for when Mom and Phil stayed the weekend and helped.
Valentina is now settled on the grass. A toddler content in her lap, she applies bug repellant to another. Something tugs inside me over how attuned she is to the kids’ needs. Even Eden, who’s been keeping one eye on her phone for a call from her mother that I doubt will come, seems drawn into the scene, distracted for a few hours.
My friends’ voices float in the background, but my focus is on Valentina.
She springs into action, comforting a little one who tripped in their eager play. Her laughter rings out when another child taps her head.
Without realizing it, I’ve let a smile form on my lips.
My boys haven’t stopped talking about her for days. On our drives to or from Manhattan, her name always comes up.
Eden hasn’t shown much emotion. But she’s been adamant about wanting Valentina to join us for dinners at my mom’s house before leaving for the day.
I’ve taken a different approach—acting gruff to keep things professional. It might come off as rude, but I’m still figuring out how to act around her. And I doubt I’m handling the delicate balance well, caught between admiration and the need to maintain distance.
“She’s got a way with them, hasn’t she, Jason?”
I nearly jump in my seat. Across from me, Ethan’s grinning. My cheeks warm—and not from the fire’s glow. I divert my gaze to my plate and snatch up my half-eaten hamburger, taking another defensive bite. But then I catch Liam observing Valentina too. His admiring gaze stirs uneasy feelings.
“If things don’t work out with your nanny, she might be the perfect backup for my family,” Russ comments from my other side. He eyes me for a reaction before he takes a hefty bite from his second burger.
“She’s made it through the second week and is starting week three. Trial phase is over, no?” Ethan tosses his empty plate into the flames.
I feign indifference and throw my paper plate onto the flaming log while holding my burger. “The kids need her for now.” I might as well be speaking to myself as I eat the rest of my hamburger. Mom will be back soon, and Valentina will return to her other gigs—perhaps even land a position with a more prestigious broadcast than Family Sphere, where leaders don’t cook up lame excuses not to hire her.
“She’s not just good with the kids, mate. She’s easy on the eyes too, eh?” Liam elbows Ethan.
Ethan, our peacemaker and philosopher, merely smiles and shakes his head, then sends me a knowing look. “That goes along with our lesson about the rose.”
“Which lesson are we talking about?” Russ leans in as Liam reminds him of our dodgeball get-together last Sunday when Ethan spoke about the nature of a rose, among the many quotes he analyzes about roses.
“To add to Liam’s response”—Ethan wags a finger at me—“sometimes we only see a rose for its thorns. But each rose has its unique beauty, protected and waiting for the right person to appreciate it.”
“I can’t remember why you like using all those rose analogies.” I fold my arms, amused by his practical examples. Besides his obvious lesson last week during our game, he’s been weaving rose metaphors into conversations so often I’ve lost track of when he started.
He shrugs. “We can talk more about it next Sunday.”
My gaze flickers to the fire. The flames twist and writhe, and his analogy strikes deeper this time. Valentina and I had a rocky start. Now, watching her kindness and patience with the children—a trait I sometimes find in short supply—I’m forced to question my initial judgments.
“Besides your mom, you haven’t had any woman or outsider in your house,” Liam states. “Does it make you a tad anxious to have Val here?”
“Liam!” Ethan scolds. “Let’s not make any assumptions.”
“I’ve seen beautiful women before if that’s what you mean.” No reason to admit I never had one work this close to me.
But Liam’s unfinished question lingers, unnervingly accurate. I hadn’t considered the implications when I assigned Valentina the room across from mine. The thought of our paths crossing more intimately hadn’t entered my mind. My body tenses.
Russ must’ve noticed. He claps a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Don’t stress over it, man. She’s a catch, but she’s here for the kids.”
“Yeah.” I manage a half smile as the children gather around her for a group hug. “For the kids,” I echo, more to myself, willing my brain to align with my words.
“Plus, Valentina isn’t Jason’s type,” Ethan adds as if reading my mind.
“And who’s his type again?” Liam smirks, his green eyes glinting. “Never met your ex to know what type you date.”
Dread grips me. “Never going back to dating again.” My type, if I were to consider it, would be someone settled, not still chasing a career.
“Never say never.” Ethan arches an eyebrow, ever the optimist.
The responsibilities as a father anchor my response. “My kids can’t be put through that again.”
Risking another person walking out of their lives is unbearable. Sure, I sometimes long for companionship, for someone to come home to and cuddle with on the sofa as we talk about our day. Someone to love and to let me experience their love, but that’s hard to find.
Plus, my desires are secondary. My kids come first, always. I sit up straighter, but the fire crackling its warmth is a stark contrast to the chill of my resolve.