13. Sean
Astrid must be asleep by the time I get home because when I return, Violet is tucked into her bed and Astrid is gone, nowhere to be found in the common areas. At the very least, she’s asleep, and she meant it when she said she was going home because Violet was tired. But a gnawing part of me thinks that she hid downstairs the moment she heard me come home.
Maybe she does regret kissing me? I thought we were finally on the same page.
I stay awake, lingering in the kitchen, as if she might come upstairs to see me. Or at least get dinner, but she doesn’t. Fuck. I’m not used to this. The last time I seriously tried to date someone was Victoria.
Date. Is that what I’m trying to do here? Am I trying to date Astrid?
I do like her. I like her a lot actually. A whole lot.
I rub a hand over my face. There is no doubt that she’s avoiding me. I’m doing a terrible job at this. I’d probably avoid me too if I lived with someone who constantly tried to attack me and then never communicated after.
Three hours after I get home, I give up, shutting off the kitchen light and retreating to my room. It’s another night of restless sleep. I worry I’ve moved too fast. I replay all that’s happened, trying to figure out where I went wrong, and how I might fix it. If she gives me another chance, that is.
My fears are confirmed when I wake up the next day and Astrid appears to have skipped our run. This isn’t like her. At all. Something must have happened between our kiss and her walking back to the party. But as many times as I turn last night over, I can’t find the place I went wrong. So maybe it’s not about me at all? Maybe something else happened, and she’s not telling me.
That tiny piece of hope keeps me going. That’s got to be it. Something happened.
I cling to it like mantra. It’s what gets me out of the bed and into the kitchen. I’m getting things ready when I hear Astrid’s feet padding down the hall.
“Hey,” I say, unable to hold back my smile. She didn’t skip our run. She wasn’t avoiding me. “I thought you ditched me.” Tension I didn’t realize I held releases from my shoulders.
She yawns as she uses the hair tie from around her wrist to tie back her hair. “I couldn’t sleep last night so I figured I would sleep in.” She rubs her eyes.
For someone who couldn’t sleep well she looks stunning. Her eyes aren’t red rimmed like I saw mine were when I woke up, and her long blonde hair isn’t disheveled either. I wouldn’t know anything was wrong if I hadn’t seen it for myself last night.
“Well, do you still want to go for that run?” I ask. I put on my sweatpants just in case she did. I don’t know why, but I’ve really started to look forward to these mornings together.
“Why do you run with me every day?” she asks, the quiet, soft expression gone from her face and replaced with furrowed brows. She crosses her arms against her chest.
The question takes me aback.
“I just mean…” The words start to trail off. “I’m just your nanny. You don’t have to go out of your way for me. I don’t want to be a burden?—”
I place my hand on her arm. “Astrid, you could never be a burden.” Why would she ever think that?
She sniffles and suddenly I realize that her eyes are clear, not from good sleep, but from what looks like tears, and her soft cheeks are slightly puffier than usual.
“Were you crying?” I ask, concerned. What could’ve made her cry?
She doesn’t respond, and I start to worry that she won’t, leaving me to piece together assumptions that I’m sure will end in my fault, or she denies it out right.
To my surprise, she responds. “Yes,” she says, in a small voice.
“What’s wrong, Astrid, you can tell me.” I rub my hand up and down her arm before tugging at her hand. She uncrosses her arms and lets me take her hand in mine. I lace my fingers with hers and squeeze. I want her to trust me.
She stares at me. “The women last night.”
“What women?” I try to think back. I know a lot of the guys brought their wives, their girlfriends. Maybe a few brought their sisters. But no one I can think of would want to hurt her. They don’t even know her.
“I don’t know, these women. I heard what they were saying.” Her green eyes glow brighter as the tears swell.
I squeeze her hand even tighter. “What, Astrid? What did they say?”
“They saw us together,” she pauses to wipe the tears away with the back of her free hand, “and they were telling each other not to worry because I’m just the nanny.” Now her eyes look mad. “Is this what you do with all the nannies? Is that why you hired me?”
I’ve never seen her look so pale. I can’t stand to see her like this. I pull her into me and wrap my arms around tight. “No, Astrid. I don’t just do this with anyone.” God, what she must think of me after hearing that. I kiss the top of her head. Now that I know it’s not me and it’s her fear of what this all means, I’m far more confident in my actions. “You aren’t just anything. You mean something to me.”
I try to think of a way to make it up to her and salvage our friendship. Friendship? Is she my friend? I guess my working relationship. I suppose after everything, she doesn’t consider me a friend anymore.
I suppose I don’t consider her a friend either…
“I am?” Her voice trembles.
“Astrid.” My heart breaks for her. I hate that she feels this way. I never wanted to hurt her, and I’ve managed to find a way already. “I would never use you. I would never hurt you like that. Never.”
She sniffles and I let her work through what I’ve said as I hold her against me.
“Still want to go for a run?” I ask, not letting her go and not sure what to do or say next that will make this better.
“Can we make coffee and go for a walk instead?” she asks.
“Sure.” I kiss her head. “I’ll make it. What do you want?”
“As much espresso and ice as you can fit into that cup.” She nods towards her giant tumbler.
“Okay.” I chuckle.
The walk is nice. It’s colder than either of us expected. I give her my hoodie so she doesn’t freeze, which is hilarious because it is basically a dress on her.
She looks up at me.
“That fits you so well,” I laugh.
“Keep it up and I won’t give it back to you.”
“You can’t steal my favorite hoodie.”
“Watch me.” She grins.
I’m so relieved to see her smiling again. I don’t want to ruin it by talking about last night, but I need to get to the bottom of what’s happened.
“So…” I start.
“So?”
“So do you want to talk more about what happened last night?”
She stares pointedly at the ground.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I add quickly. My intention is not to make things worse.
She sighs. There is so much weight in the unspoken words building between us. “There’s not much more to say. The women made it sound like you wouldn’t take someone like me seriously.”
I resist the urge to dismiss what she says. I hate the way those words sound out of her mouth, but I don’t want to react because I want her to feel comfortable continuing to tell me what she’s thinking.
“It is just a strange feeling is all… I mean.” She shrugs. “You don’t owe me anything. I get it. So…” The rest of what remains unsaid trails off into the wind, leaving me wondering what other insecurities this may have brought up. She kicks a loose bit of pavement.
I keep my pace steady with hers, careful not to accidentally walk ahead. “What do mean by, someone like you?”
There is a pause, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s even going to answer.
“I guess they meant someone…plain. Normal. To them—and to you—Im just the help.” She shrugs off the sentence like it is no big deal.
But it is a big deal to me.
She’s the most interesting thing that’s happened to me. But I don’t want to come off insincere, responding just to placate her. “You are anything but plain, or normal,” I assure her. “Far from normal,” I tease, bringing our laced fingers to my lips and kissing her hand.
That makes her laugh.
“And to address the other part, I do owe you respect, Astrid. I will always be upfront with you. I would never lie to you. Never.” I emphasize the last word. I need to her to understand this.
She doesn’t respond right away, and I wonder if what I’ve said is wrong.
I try again. “I wouldn’t go behind your back, Astrid. I promise. I wasn’t expecting any of this. So I’m just as cautious as you are.”
She shoots me a look that suggests she doesn’t believe me. But it’s not a sad look, more a mix of skepticism with something else. It is like I can see the words start to sink in and work their way through the cloud of doubt in her mind.
“Your turn to talk,” I say, nudging her shoulder gently. I need to know what she’s thinking. Or what she’s afraid of. But I am determined to find out. By the time I’m done with her, I will know everything about her.
She takes a long sip of her coffee. “So you’re saying you’re not sneaking around kissing a bunch of girls and me?” There is a hint of teasing in her voice that makes me relax.
“Correct. That is what I’m saying.”
She smiles, exhaling deeply. “Okay.” There is a spring in her step that tells me she’s processed whatever thoughts were keeping her down. “Promise me one thing, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You’ll never embarrass me. I don’t care if this works out doesn’t, just please don’t embarrass me.”
I think of the tabloids and the drama I’ve already experienced without a relationship. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that level of scrutiny myself.
“I promise.” It is an easy promise to make. I would never want to hurt Astrid.
And I think she believes me, because she insists on making another loop around the neighborhood before we head back home.
“Thank you,” she says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss me once we’re inside.
“Did you, uh—” I pause to grab us each a water. “Did you want to hang out until I have practice later?” I ask. “We can get takeout or something.”
“Yeah, that sounds nice.” She gulps down her water. “Let me just go change real quick.” I watch her hips sway down the hall.
I can’t imagine anyone ever thinking that is plain.
“Don’t forget to give back my hoodie,” I call after her, but she waves a hand dismissively in my direction. I don’t think I’ll ever get that back again.
The thought makes me smile for some reason.
I take a seat at the kitchen island to wait for her, scrolling through my recent food deliveries, trying to decide which one sounds the most delicious when Astrid’s phone starts ringing. I look around to see if she’s back yet, but I haven’t heard her come up. The phone rings and rings. I can’t see who it is because the screen is turned over. I don’t want to be rude, but I also don’t want to listen to this ringing. Violet is still asleep, and I sure as hell don’t want to wake her up early on a weekend. I press the side to silence it and go back to ordering.
It rings again. And again.
Jesus. Whoever this is isn’t taking the hint.
I silence the ringer by pressing the side button and hoping that it stops. Whoever wants to get a hold of her is determined.
Immediately after I silence the phone, another call comes through.
I give up. “Astrid’s phone,” I answer.
“Sean?” Heather asks. She sounds confused, pausing for a second like she’s unsure. The silence only broken up by terrible coughs.
“Astrid left her phone, what’s up? You sound awful.” I hold the phone away from my ear when she starts coughing again.
“I need to cancel our plans tomorrow,” she groans. “I have a fever and a cough. I can’t go to the farm. Will you tell her how sorry I am? I’ll send her flowers.”
“You’ll send her flowers? You were going to a farm?” I repeat back but don’t understand.
“It’s her birthday tomorrow.” Cough. “She wanted to go to Maple Wood.” Cough. “Tell her I love her.”
“Okay, I will, Heather. Feel better,” I say, ending the call.
I didn’t realize tomorrow was her birthday. I try to think of the recent conversations we’ve had. I’m almost positive that she’s never mentioned it.
After yesterday and today, I’d hate to give Astrid more bad news just as she’s starting to feel happy again.
I text Heather and ask her for the basic details, the address, the time. The rest of the plans I can put together for us.
I decide not to tell Astrid, she had a bad day yesterday, and I’m trying to make her feel better, not worse. Besides, I won’t let her plans fall through. Her birthday is important. And I hope me taking her out will be a nice surprise.