12. Tristan
CHAPTER 12
TRISTAN
T ristan glanced at Ria, sitting in the armchair, sipping her tea, her hair a swirl of curls around her lovely face. He was glad he’d gotten up when he’d heard Jacob crying, and not just because he’d been able to comfort the child. It was nice to talk to Ria like this. Tristan wasn’t sure of the last time he’d been so open with anyone.
“I’ve answered quite a few of your questions,” he said. “Maybe it’s time for you to answer one of mine.”
“All right.” Ria grinned. “Ask away.”
“You told me how much you love kids, and I’ve seen for myself how good you are with them. Do you want kids of your own?”
Ria paused, as though she were trying to formulate the right answer. “I do, of course, although the time has never been right. I wouldn’t want to be a single mother — I saw how hard that was for my mom. Plus, since most of my jobs are live-in, it would be hard to have a baby. At the same time, I always feel like the kids I nanny for are my kids, in one way or another. I make a difference in their lives, and they make a difference in mine. Kids don’t have to be my blood to feel like my kids.”
“I understand that,” Tristan said — and he did. “I’ve tried to fight it, but the triplets do feel like my kids, even though they aren’t.”
“You tried to fight it because of your sister?” Tristan nodded, so Ria continued. “I know it must be hard. But remember, you being the kids’ father doesn’t mean that your sister wasn’t their mother. Kids need so many people to love them.”
“I know.” Tristan sighed. “I do love them.”
“I love them, too.” Ria smiled, though her expression was a little distant, now. “They’re such good kids.”
Tristan wanted to ask if it would be hard for her to leave the kids, but he didn’t want to remind her that the job would eventually come to an end. He didn’t want Ria to leave. At least not yet.
“They are good kids,” he said instead. “And they have so many hobbies.”
Ria giggled. “I know! They draw and swim and run and play and help with cooking and put on little plays together. I must have been the same way, though I can’t remember.”
“Me neither. Before the kids came, I used to have hobbies, too — I did yoga and meditation as well as exercise. Now I’m lucky if I can get in half an hour in the gym around everything else.”
“I run, or I try to, but that’s it,” Ria said. “That’s one of the good things about the kids, though. When I play with them, I get to draw and play and swim, too, and that reminds me how much fun those things can be.”
“You’re a real Mary Poppins, aren’t you?” Tristan felt his mouth lift into a smile as he imagined Ria pirouetting around his home in a Mary Poppins-style gown, singing about sugar and fun and charming the kids and him alike.
Ria grinned. “Thanks. I like the idea of that. Maybe, someday, I’ll start my own nannying agency — Ria Poppins, Inc.”
For some reason, the idea of Ria going off and starting a nannying agency made Tristan’s heart clench. It was probably the thought of losing her, which was inevitable. He didn’t voice his sadness.
“That’s a great idea,” he said, instead. “Do you like working for Oh Pear!?”
“No.” Ria chuckled at the abruptness of her answer. “It’s… not a great fit. Remember, I told you after I broke the vase that I couldn’t afford to be fired on the first day? Well, it wasn’t just about how bad that would look on an employment record. My boss told me that this job was my last chance.”
Tristan sat back, surprised. “How can that be? You’re a wonderful nanny.”
Ria sighed. “Apparently, not so much — at least, not according to her. And, well, it’s my own fault.” She blushed. “I may have… inflated my credentials… to get work with them. They pay so much better than the competition, and I was sure I could do a good job.” She looked down into her mug.
“What credentials did you inflate?” Tristan asked. “As far as I’ve seen, you’re everything that was advertised, and more. You care about the kids, you’re great with them, and you even cook and keep the house clean. What more could anyone need?”
“That’s what I thought, but apparently I should also be an expert in French cooking, speak at least three foreign languages, and be able to instruct my charges in extracurricular activities from karate to embroidery.”
Tristan whistled. “That’s a lot .”
“Yeah.”
“But for kids as young as the triplets, surely you wouldn’t be expected to do all that?”
Ria laughed drily. “You’d be wrong about that. I worked with one client who wanted me to teach her three-month-old Mandarin. The kid didn’t even speak English yet!”
“Well, with or without French cooking or foreign languages, you’re a wonderful nanny, Ria.”
“Still. I know I shouldn’t have padded my résumé.” She sighed. “It’s just, well, my last sibling, Nora, is in college now. If I can just push a little, I can get her through, and the extra salary was exactly what I needed to support my family.”
“I understand.” Tristan smiled at her. “I guess we both put on a different face at work than at home.”
“True.” Ria’s lips quirked into a genuine smile. “But those poor toddlers are stuck with us.”
“I don’t know how they’ll live without a nanny who can make cream puffs in the shape of swans while singing to them in Flemish and sewing clothes for them out of handmade lace,” Tristan said.
“Exactly. And what will their childhood be like with a father who doesn’t actually need glasses?”
They smiled at each other, then Tristan added, “I don’t wear the glasses anymore, you know.”
“Really?”
“Really. You were right. It’s silly to wear them when I don’t actually need them.”
“I don’t think I ever said that the glasses were silly…”
“No, but it was strongly implied.” Tristan raised his mug to her. “Here’s to you, for getting me to give up the pretentious glasses.”
“Okay, I definitely didn’t say pretentious… ” But there was laughter in Ria’s voice, and Tristan knew she’d been thinking it. Their eyes met in the warm lamplight, and Tristan felt a shiver run through him. When Ria looked at him with those big green eyes, he had the feeling that she was seeing right through his facade to the man he really was. And strangely, he didn’t mind it. He would happily have sat here with her for hours, baring his soul and listening to her do the same.
He would happily have pulled her out of that chair to sit beside him, just so he could hold her hand and smell the vanilla-and-roses scent of her shampoo.
That thought scared him more than anything, so he quickly broke their eye contact and glanced out the window.
“Is it getting light out?”
Ria followed his gaze. “Oh, I suppose it is.” She looked at her phone and winced. “I should start breakfast.”
Tristan knew that he should go upstairs and get at least a little sleep before work. He didn’t want to, though. He wanted to stay with Ria, just a little longer.
“I can help,” he said.
“Really?” Ria’s eyes widened. “I mean, that would be great. Let’s go.” She stood, folded the blanket she’d had on her lap, and set it on the couch. Then she stretched. Her pajama top lifted slightly, revealing the curve of her side and the soft, pale skin of her stomach, before she turned and headed out of the room. Tristan took his time following her.
He’d found Ria attractive and impressive from the first time he’d seen her, but it had been easy to keep his feelings at bay. Today, though, it was growing more difficult to stop himself from imagining what it might be like to run a hand through her red curls or kiss the freckles on her pink cheeks.
Tristan knew he shouldn’t let himself develop a crush on his nanny, but it was too late. He already found Ria amazing. Yet he also knew that there was no future for them. There was no chance he and Ria would even have a relationship, so he could allow himself to feel a thrill of attraction, as long as he didn’t act on it.
Ria was already in the kitchen when Tristan entered. Balanced on her tiptoes, she carefully pulled a mixing bowl down from a top shelf. Tristan paused in the doorway until she had the bowl safely on the counter.
“How can I help?”
“Let’s see. You can help me get the ingredients. I need flour, sugar, milk, eggs…”
Tristan grabbed each ingredient as Ria listed it off, ending with a plastic box of fresh cherries from the fridge.
“What are we making?” he asked.
“Cherry-chocolate muffins,” Ria explained. “Now, you have your choice of jobs. You can mix everything together with the stand mixer, or you can pit the cherries.”
“I think I’ll be better off operating the machine than performing surgery on fruit,” Tristan said.
“Great.” Ria handed him her phone, on which she had the recipe open. “Just follow the instructions.”
It was a simple command, but it turned out far less easy to execute than Tristan had expected. He managed to pour the wet ingredients into the bowl of the stand mixer and beat them, but when he added the dry ingredients, he misjudged the angle of the beaters. Batter flew everywhere, landing on the walls, the counter, the floor — and all over Ria.
Anyone else might have been annoyed by the mess, but Ria’s eyes just widened — and then she began to laugh. With one finger, she wiped a glob of batter off her cheek and popped it into her mouth.
"At least it tastes good," she said, still giggling.
“I am so sorry.” Tristan found himself smiling, too. “I had no idea that would happen.”
“Clearly. I guess kale doesn’t fight back as much. Still.” Ria bit her lip. “You did get me very messy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You will be.” Ria grabbed a handful of flour and tossed it at Tristan, leaving a white cascade down the front of his T-shirt.
“Hey!” Tristan’s mouth dropped open.
“Hey yourself.” Ria shrugged, clearly fighting a smile. Then she reached for the flour again. Tristan closed the gap between them, grabbing her hand to stop her movement. Ria pivoted, twirling under his arm like they were in a ballet, and put a dot of cocoa powder directly on Tristan’s nose. Finally, he retaliated, smearing cherry juice along Ria’s cheek. They were both laughing harder than Tristan had laughed in years.
“Okay, okay.” Ria held up her hands in surrender. “Truce. The kids will be up soon.”
“Truce.” Tristan held out his hand to shake. Ria took it, and he pulled her closer to him so that he could toss flour onto her arm. “Okay, now it’s a truce.”
Ria’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “For now, anyway. But don’t think I’ll forget this anytime soon, Mr. West.”
“Oof.” Tristan released her arm. “Not even my employees call me that.”
“Really?” Ria leaned against the counter. “Why?”
“Mr. West is my father. I always wanted to be different from him.”
“All right, then.” Ria smiled. “Don’t think I’ll forget this, Tristan .”
“Better.” Tristan looked around at the mess. “I’ll start cleaning this up.”
“You’ll need my help.” Ria tossed him a kitchen towel. “Start with the walls.”
They both began cleaning. Every once in a while, one of them would find batter in a very strange location — inside the refrigerator, hanging like an icicle from the ceiling, or splattered across a tile in the exact shape of an octopus — and they’d both start laughing again.
Eventually, Ria straightened up from where she’d been cleaning the fronts of the cupboards and put her hands on her hips. “Okay, I think we got everything.”
“Um, not quite.” Tristan tried to hide his smile. “You still have a little batter on you.”
“Where?” Ria looked down, then started to laugh again. Batter was splattered on her bare legs, across her pajamas, and on her face. Tristan, who had been standing behind the mixer, had escaped the worst of the splatter. Ria wiped her legs and pajamas, then her arms and face. “Did I get everything?”
“Not quite.” Tristan tapped his own nose. “You missed some here.”
Ria wiped the tip of her nose with a paper towel, but the batter just spread onto her cheek.
“Did I get it?”
“No.”
“Come on, then.” Ria’s hands were on her hips again and her expression was half-daring. “Help me with it.”
Armed with a paper towel, Tristan stepped closer. Very lightly, he dabbed the towel across her nose and cheek. Once the batter was gone, his hand fell slowly to his side as he realized just how close they were standing. He could feel the warmth of Ria’s body just inches away and see the flecks of gold in her green eyes. He could count the freckles scattered like constellations across her cheeks and see the way that her pink lips were ever so slightly parted. Her head was tilted back to meet his gaze, and she looked sweet and defiant and vulnerable, all at once.
“Tristan,” she said, her voice soft.
“Ria.” He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. Her hand was small and warm in his. She lifted onto her tiptoes, and Tristan bent his head towards her. All he could think about was Ria. She was like the sun, bright and warm and all-consuming, and he was a planet caught in her orbit. All rational thought was gone. Tristan hesitated just long enough to give Ria time to pull away, but she didn’t. She just reached for him, her hands resting on his shoulders as they slowly closed the distance between them.
There was an inevitability to this moment, as though they had been pulled together by the sheer force of gravity from the first moment they’d seen each other. Tristan could already imagine the soft press of Ria’s lips against his own and the?—
"Waaaaaah!"
Tristan and Ria jumped apart like teenagers caught out after curfew. The crying over the baby monitor was loud and insistent and couldn’t be ignored. Tristan’s heart hammered in his chest. Thank goodness for whichever of the triplets had just woken up. A second longer, and he would have kissed Ria. That would have been a terrible mess — even if kissing her was all he really wanted. Even if she seemed to feel the same way.
“I’ll go,” Tristan said. Without waiting for Ria to reply, without looking at her face to see how she was feeling, he turned on his heel and hurried out of the room. The whole way down the hallway and up the stairs to the triplets’ room, he chastised himself. He should never have let himself join Ria in making breakfast. And he definitely never should have joined her playful food fight. And he certainly, absolutely, should never have allowed himself to come so close to kissing her.
Yet as much as Tristan told himself off, he knew it was no use. He cared for Ria. No amount of chastisement and no amount of keeping his distance would change that. Now, the only thing that mattered was what he was going to do about it.
And for now, what he was going to do about it was get the kids dressed and go to work. He needed a little time to think things over. He needed to figure out what to do next.