Chapter 9
If you don’t mind,
Harper needs school supplies.
Use my card to get her and Everly whatever they need.
Get them some clothes and shoes too.
It’s Monday morning—my first official day as Harper’s full-time nanny. School starts on Wednesday, giving me two days to get my bearings before tackling elementary school drop-off and pick-up.
I’ve been so nervous to do a good job and take care of Harper, I haven’t had time to obsess over the fact my baby girl is starting kindergarten.
But here this note sits, atop a school supply print-out from the school, and Greyson’s credit card. I’m afraid it’ll burn me if I pick it up.
Greyson was gone by the time we woke up this morning. Everly stirred first, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Before I could stop her, she was knocking on Harper’s door to have her join the sunrise club my daughter is the founding member of.
This child has always been an early riser, much to my chagrin. I haven’t slept past 6:00 a.m. in over seven years. Not since before I got pregnant. But my exhaustion runs far deeper than early mornings with my little ball of energy.
I’d never given any thought to being a mother.
My own parents were neglectful, not giving me the best example of how to have a happy family.
I was also barely eighteen when I married Carter, having a baby was the last thing on my mind.
At the time, all I knew was that I felt loved and cared for, and that I’d have stability for the first time in my life.
I was na?ve to believe Carter when he told me he’d pull out. He told me a husband shouldn’t need to use a condom with his wife, and he forbade me from getting birth control.
My pregnancy sealed my fate, tethering me to him more eternally than our vows and marriage license. I went from being barely older than a child, to having a child within a year.
I shook off the unwanted feelings of grief and dressed quickly in yesterday’s jean shorts and a baggy T-shirt.
I followed the girls’ voices to the eat-in kitchen where they already had toys scattered all over the table. Shouts for cereal, toast, strawberries, and yogurt filled the apartment as I groggily gathered the ingredients for breakfast.
I was reaching for a mug when I spotted the black ink indented into the scrap paper. I’ve been staring at it since.
“Mama, where’s my breakfast?” Everly asks, not rudely, but not politely either.
“Gettin’ it together right now, baby.” Knowing her “order” by heart, I dollop vanilla yogurt into a bowl, slice a few strawberries, fanning them out like flower petals, and sprinkle cheerios in the middle, completing the masterpiece.
I slide the bowl in front of her to stave off a mutiny.
“Can I have that too?” Harper asks excitedly, admiring Everly’s already ruined flower. “But can I still have my cinnamon toast, please?”
I should tell Greyson how polite his daughter is, but that would require me to speak to him, and I don’t think I want to do much more of that.
Every time I talk to him, I trauma dump on him, cry, or overall make a fool of myself. Perhaps he’s onto something leaving me notes…
Once Harper’s digging in to her breakfast, I grab a mug and make my morning tea. Instead of sitting with the girls, I lean against the counter, sipping my tea and obsessively re-reading Greyson’s note.
I’ll use his card to buy whatever Harper needs for the start of school and use my emergency cash for Everly. I’m uncomfortable accepting so many generosities from Greyson. Nothing is free in this world. Everything comes with strings attached.
“When you little ladies are finished eating, why don’t you get dressed and we go to the playground before it gets too hot? Once the shops open, we’re going back-to-school shopping.”
Yips and screeches of excitement make my ears ring, but in the happiest of ways. They scamper off to get dressed while I clean the kitchen. I tuck Greyson’s credit card and the school-supply list into my shorts pocket.
There’s no other logical reason why his handwritten note is tucked safely in my pocket too, but I pat it through the denim all the same.
Have some business to take care of this evening, don’t wait for me for dinner.
Another note. He bought me a fancy new smartphone so we could text, but he’s leaving me notes instead of having me using the damn thing.
Harper isn’t perturbed when her dad doesn’t join us for dinner. Nor is she bothered when I put her to bed.
I’m sprawled out on the plush sectional, savoring the utter stillness and silence. Being a mom is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and as it turns out, caring for a second child doubled if not tripled the difficulty.
You’d think it’d be just as easy to make lunch for two kids than one, or get two kids ready for an outing, but no. It’s insanity. When one goes right, the other goes left. It’s like herding cats.
The last couple of days have been so peaceful with happy children, giggles and hugs abound. Today was the first time I’ve seen them disenchanted with each other.
Neither of them is used to spending entire days and nights with another child. Merging two only-children will be harder than I expected. But I survived my first official day as a nanny, and I’ve never been happier to be off my feet.
Greyson’s boots echo on the stairs before the door unlocks and I jolt up to a sitting position.
“Oh, hey. Didn’t think you’d still be up,” he says softly, cognizant of the sleeping babes down the hall.
I blame my exhaustion for why I’m entranced by him toeing off his cowboy boots and lining them up neatly by the front door. He unbuttons his shirt and drapes it over the back of the sectional, leaving him in a white, cotton T-shirt that showcases his built frame.
Greyson carries his mass differently. Carter’s a swimmer and has the physique to prove it. There’s no denying my husband is an attractive man. A monster hidden behind a beautiful mask.
Greyson is solid. That’s the word that comes to mind every time I make this silly mental comparison. He’s broad through the shoulders, with a strong frame built from work, not a gym. He has the physique of a man who can throw a hay bale and never says no to dessert.
He’s ridiculously attractive, and the way I’m practically drooling over him doing this G-rated strip tease is downright embarrassing.
I whip my head around before he catches me staring.
“Day go okay?” he asks, walking to the kitchen, dead on his feet.
“Yep, got the school shopping done, the girls ate well and went to bed without issue. It was a good day.”
He fills a glass with water from the tap and downs it in one long pull.
“The receipts are by your coffee pot with your credit card. I hope I didn’t go overboard.”
I’m wide awake at the realization he might be upset with the amount of money I spent on Harper today. Carter was 100 percent in charge of our finances. He never even let me grocery shop alone, let alone give me a bank card, and never cash.
The money I socked away was stolen from his wallet. Carter carried cash in a way that made him appear important; like he could throw money at anything and get his way.
He carried so much, I probably could’ve stolen more, faster. But I went to great lengths to avoid the consequences of getting caught.
“Where’s the rest of the receipts?” Greyson asks, my spine stiffening like lead.
“That’s all of them. I was careful to get one for each transaction.” My anxiety’s spiking, my temperature rising, nausea clawing up my throat.
Turning to face me, he flips through the receipts again and pins me with a glare.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I spent much, you can take whatever you need to from my pay—”
Greyson interrupts me, barking, “What the hell are you talking about?”
The words die in my throat that’s constricted so tightly I’m gasping for air.
“How the hell did you get two sets of school supplies for this cheap? I swear last year we walked out of there for over a hundred bucks, just for Harper.”
I’m too focused on getting enough oxygen in my lungs to respond.
“I appreciate you getting Harper some new school clothes. I’m sure she had more fun shopping with you than her dumb old dad. In the past I’ve been tempted to send her with my sister, but Olivia would max out my credit card in the blink of an eye.” He chuckles wryly.
“But there ain’t enough items on this receipt for you to have gotten much for Everly.”
I avert my eyes too quickly. Whatever I’m feeling is always written across my face in bold lettering. I can’t lie to save my life.
“You didn’t buy anything for Everly.” He’s disappointed, but not angry, he’s…sad.
“You haven’t even gotten your first paycheck, I wanted you to get her all set for school just like Harper. No strings attached, just tryin’ to be a decent person.”
He’s so much more than a decent person.
“I got her a few essentials and new sneakers with the money I had…” I stop before saying the money I had left, but he sees through me anyway.
“You’ll have an advance on your first check by tomorrow morning,” he says, tossing the receipts down like they burned him.
My face floods with the heat of shame. “I can’t open a bank account until I have my legal documents.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose so hard the skin blanches. I know he isn’t angry at me, but my nervous system can’t differentiate that from him being angry at my situation.
“Right. Fuck. I’m getting them as fast as I can,” he bites out.
“I wasn’t implying—”
“I know.” He holds his hand up to stop me. “I know. It isn’t your fault. I’m just trying to help. I don’t like you walking around without any money. It isn’t safe.”
Greyson retrieves the credit card from the counter and holds it out to me.
“Keep this until we get your documents sorted.”
“No. I can’t.”
“You can, and you will.”
He’s overstepping by miles, but for some reason, when he’s domineering, I’m not afraid. I feel protected.
I don’t agree to take the card, but I don’t refuse either. He makes a show of holding the card up and slapping it down on the counter by his coffee pot.
He doesn’t say goodnight. He doesn’t say anything at all. One second he’s the only thing I can see; the next, his bedroom door snicks shut.
He’ll be up and out before we wake up tomorrow, probably most days for that matter.
So, I leave him a little note in return.
Thank you.
For everything.