15. Zara
ZARA
The next morning, I’m making jambalaya, the international special of the day, when Clara pokes her head through the kitchen doorway. “Hey, Zara. Garrett’s here.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right out.”
The door closes behind her as she goes off to presumably relay my message.
I untie my apron. “Everything’s good to go,” I tell Abby, who is taking over for me in the kitchen. “Text me if anything comes up before I get back.”
She walks to the stove where the jambalaya is cooking. “Go! Enjoy the rest of your day, and don’t worry about this place.”
Ha! As if that’s possible. The place is part of me, like my bones are part of my body.
Even when Picnic otherwise, I’d have been changed and ready to go.
I disappear down the hallway, my heart rate fluttering into overdrive. It’s gonna be okay. She’s a toddler. There’s nothing scary about that. You’ll be fine.
It’s not like I haven’t been around little kids before. But this is Garrett’s and Kenda’s daughter. What if she doesn’t like me? What if she reminds me too much of Kenda and I can’t stop crying? Crying because a beautiful soul has been stolen from this world.
I grab my jeans and top from my locker and take them into the washroom.
Humming to myself, I lock the door and check my face in the mirror. My eyes are a little puffy from last night. I couldn’t sleep and kept alternating between sobbing and trying to get comfortable on my mattress.
My eyes aren’t as red as they were this morning, so I consider that a win.
I change, the ibuprofen I took earlier still doing its job. I check my reflection one more time, making sure my makeup isn’t smudged or smeared. “You’ve got this.”
I join Garrett outside and find him pacing on the sidewalk. It’s a beautiful spring day. The sun is warm, and so is the gentle breeze blowing a wayward strand of hair in his face. Storm clouds are gathering along the horizon, but they aren’t expected in Maple Ridge until this evening.
“You trying to solve a plot problem?” I ask. Whenever he’s stuck on something that has to do with a book he’s working on, he paces or gardens.
“Hell if I know if I’ve got a plot problem.” He rakes his hand through his hair, pushing the longish strands out of his face. “I haven’t written much in the past two days. Since Peony showed up.”
Oh. Damn. No wonder he looks so stressed. His publisher bumped up his deadline, and then Peony fell into his lap. Add to that, the love of his life died in a mall shooting. How would anyone get anything done under those circumstances?
“Hey, Garrett. This is me,” I say as we walk down the sidewalk to the hotel farther down Main Street. “What do you need?”
“A miracle,” he mutters.
“Unfortunately, I’m no voodoo priestess, so I can’t help you there.
” Not even Mimi, who claimed to be a priestess, could have given him the miracle he’s looking for.
Not at this level. “But I can help in more practical ways. And you have a nanny who’ll take good care of Peony while you work.
Kenda trusted her, so you know you can trust…
what was her name again?” Apollo? Aphrodite?
I remember it had something to do with Greek mythology.
“Athena.”
“Right. Athena. Which Greek goddess was she?”
“The goddess of wisdom.”
“Ah. So she’s a wise nanny. That’s good.”
“Compared to what I know about kids Peony’s age, she’s freaking the Einstein of kids as far as I’m concerned.”
I stop walking and touch his arm. His biceps are warm and taut under my fingertips. “You’re gonna be a great father, Garrett. You just need to give Peony time to get to know you. She’s been through so much.” I wrap him in a tight hug. “And you’re already proving you’re a fantastic father.”
Garrett’s arms go around my waist. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of pine and leather and the mountain sunshine, a scent that’s all Garrett.
“You haven’t done the paternity test yet, but you’re making sure your home is her home.” I step away from our hug, even though I would be happy to stay in it for another lifetime or so.
I wish I could reassure him about his book and the deadline, but it would just be empty platitudes. “If you need someone to brainstorm with or rant to about the book, I’m your woman.” That much I can do.
“Thanks.” He gifts me one of his smiles that never fail to make me warm and tingly on the inside.
Garrett quietly knocks on the hotel room door.
“Who-who’s there?” The female voice on the other side is soft, almost timid, but there’s also a strength buried just beneath the surface.
“It’s Garrett.”
The door opens, revealing a woman in her mid-twenties. Forget the goddess of wisdom. This woman could double for the goddess of love, but instead of a toga, she’s wearing jeans, a shell-pink T-shirt, and has bare feet.
My heart drops like an elevator, its cables severed. This is Peony’s nanny?
I hadn’t thought to ask Garrett what Athena looks like. Maybe I should have so I would’ve been more prepared.
Her strawberry-blond hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders and brushes the tops of her perky breasts.
Her mouth is a perfect bow shape. And her eyes.
Her doe-like hazel eyes would cause plenty of men to fall to their knees.
The splattering of freckles across her pale, creamy skin also adds to the Greek goddess persona that goes with her name.
How many romances have I read where the hero falls in love with the nanny? The woman who is like a mother to his child?
I don’t know if I made a noise of dismay—or something a little less noteworthy—but Athena’s gaze slides from Garrett to me, and her eyes go wide.
“Hi, Athena,” Garrett says, clearly oblivious to my messy thoughts. “I hope it’s all right with you, but I brought my friend with me. Zara knew Kenda.”
“We were close friends in college and kept in contact over the years.” My voice comes out rough, the knowledge burning my throat that I will never see Kenda again.
It might be my imagination, but I swear Athena’s eyes marginally narrow. I can only imagine what she’s thinking. If Kenda and I were so close, why didn’t Garrett know he was a father? If Kenda and I were so close, why didn’t she tell me she was pregnant?
Unless Kenda pays me a visit from the other side, it’s an answer we’ll never get.
“Nina,” a small singsong voice says from inside the room. It’s followed by a giggle.
“Is that her? Peony?” My voice staggers out in an awed whisper. I don’t bother asking why Peony referred to Athena as Nina. Athena is probably hard to pronounce for an eighteen-month-old.
Athena steps aside to let us in. Garrett enters the room, and I follow behind him, conscious of Athena’s eyes watching me, judging me. And for whatever reason, I’m coming up plenty short.
The large hotel room Garrett scored came well-furnished but nothing about it reminds me of Kenda. She was all about colors, big and vibrant, much like her personality. The bedding, the love seat, and the dresser in here have a down-to-earth, mountain-cabin vibe. It’s a nice room.
A tourist pleaser.
But it isn’t the room’s aesthetic that has my heart limping into my throat.
An adorable little girl is standing next to the couch, her textured curls scooped up in two high pigtails on either side of her head.
She has on the cutest outfit, orange pants and a long-sleeved white top with a giant sunflower on it.
An outfit Garrett no doubt bought. But it’s the bend of her lips, the way she tilts her head as she plays with the colorful blocks on the coffee table, that screams Kenda.
This is her daughter. Her rip-my-heart-out and put-me-back-together-again daughter.
“Hi, Peony.” Garrett says her name with the caution of someone approaching a small animal they’re worried might bite them out of fear.
The little girl stops what she’s doing, a block in her hand, and her scared, wide eyes fix on him. Tucked under her arm is what could either be a panda or a black-and-white dog. She shifts it in front of her body like a shield. Or a cross to ward off evil.
Garrett sits on the floor near where she’s playing, positioning himself so the coffee table is between them.
My heart squeezes at the picture the pair make, at how he’s trying to come off as less intimidating.
And I swear my ovaries weep at just how amazing a father he already is, even though he doesn’t realize it yet .
For the longest moment, I can only stare at Peony, a new round of tears pricking my eyes. “She’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Beautiful like her mother.
Beautiful like her father.
There’s no doubt in my mind this is their daughter. I’ve seen Garrett’s pictures from when he was a toddler. She has his eyes.
Peony’s attention shifts from Garrett to me. The fear she has for her father isn’t directed my way. Curiosity takes its place.
“This is my friend, Zara.” Garrett points up at me.
“Hi, Peony.” I smile at her, the curve of my lips gentle but genuine, and I take a tiny step forward. “I was friends with your mother.” Another slow step forward.
She doesn’t balk at my approach, and I lower myself to the floor on the opposite side of the table to her.
“What’s your friend’s name?” I point to the stuffed toy once again wedged between her arm and her body.
“Pop-py.” She holds it out for me to see. Ah, so it’s a panda, not a dog.
“Well, hello, Poppy.” I wave at it. “What are you two building?” I point at the multicolored structure on the table.
“We’re making a house,” Athena says, the smile in her voice clearly directed at Peony and not me.
“It’s nice out.” Garrett’s gaze remains on his daughter. “I thought maybe you and Athena would like to go for a walk. We could get some lunch at Zara’s café.”
Athena crosses her arms, her stance giving off a caged-animal vibe. But I can’t tell if we’re making her feel caged or if it’s the hotel room.
Garrett gracefully pushes to his feet like a sleek panther unfolding from a nap.
My muscles have stiffened in the short time I’ve been sitting on the floor, and my attempt to stand will be nowhere near as graceful.
I stumble up and put my hand on the edge of the table for balance.
No one seems to notice my momentary clumsiness.
“I-er-didn’t pick up a stroller when I was ordering the furniture.” Garrett shares an uncertain glance between Peony and Athena. “I wasn’t sure if she wanted one. ”
“That’s okay. She will want to walk,” Athena tells him. “And I can carry her the rest of the way.”
“I can carry her if that’s too much.”
“No, that’s fine. She’ll probably be happier if I carry her. She’s…she’s still…” Athena picks up a block from the coffee table, avoiding eye contact with both of us.
“Nervous around me,” Garrett fills in, the words falling on a hard sigh.
I rub his arm. “Give her time.” I turn my head to Athena, hoping she’ll support me on this. But it’s not support I see in her expression. It’s the tail end of a scowl directed at my hand on his arm.
Without meaning to, I let my hand drop away and take a step back.
I’ve read this book before. Looks like the nanny’s going after the single dad.