Chapter 10 #2
“But we’re doing better than we were even a month ago, for sure,” I add. “I think going back to preschool next week and dance classes and the rest of their routine will be good for them.”
She nods. “I agree. Routine is important. And soothing. Especially for kids.”
“Yeah, it is.”
An uncomfortable smile creeps across her face as the silence stretches between us. “So…are you going to fire me or not? Not to be pushy, but the suspense is kind of killing me.”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’m still wrestling with it. But thank you. For your text and telling me more about your mom. I’m sorry you lost her so young. I hate that you had to go through that.”
She nods. “Thanks. It’s not something I share with everyone. I don’t want people to feel sorry for me or assume I’m some broken, motherless creature or something, but…” She shrugs. “But I obviously felt you should know more.”
I frown. “Do people really think that? When you tell them?”
“Sometimes. There’s definitely a change in the way people treat you before and after you share that your mom died when you were three years old.” Her lips hook up on one side. “You’re being a lot more serious and careful than you were before, for example.”
I tip my head in acknowledgement of her point. “But to be fair, we’re having a serious conversation.”
“It doesn’t have to be serious,” she says. “Look, I know—”
The coffee maker finishes its cycle with a long, angry hiss. Clover starts to rise, but I motion for her to stay put. “I’ll get it. Sugar and no cream for you, right?”
“Yes, please,” she says, adding in teasing voice, “I like my coffee like I like my men, dark and sweet.”
I arch a brow. “I think we both know that’s not always true. Can’t get much whiter than my pale, white boy ass.”
She grins. “I don’t know. I’ve seen paler.” Sobering, she adds, “And you were never ‘my man,’ Dean. We made out. Once. And it was great, but we already decided it wasn’t going to happen again. So…I’m not sure I see the problem here.”
I grunt and proceed to fetch the coffees. I also like mine dark and sweet, though I can’t say that’s how I like my women. Before Frederica, who was half Latina, I dated all over the racial and ethnic spectrum. I don’t think I have a “type.”
All I know is that right now, I’m finding tall girls with wild, curly hair and big brown eyes pretty damned tempting.
This one, in particular…
But if she truly doesn’t feel the same way, if this is just a “me” problem, then…
I return to the table, delivering Clover’s mug before sitting and wrapping my hands around my own. I’m definitely appreciating something warm and solid to hold onto as I ask, “So, you don’t think the fact that you came on my fingers the other night is going to be a problem?”
She exhales a startled laugh, her cheeks flushing pink before she says, “Nope, not a problem at all. We just won’t talk about that again.”
“Or think about it,” I agree.
“We’ll pretend it never happened,” she confirms, flashing a dazzling smile as she lifts her mug in a toast. I lift mine, too, a little less enthusiastically. “See how easy that was?”
She drinks.
I nod, but don’t sip from my mug. “I think that’s the only way this works.
We seriously just…wipe it from our memories and start fresh.
The girls are already so attached to you, after just a morning.
I can’t imagine how upset they would be if we got a month into this and awkwardness between the two of us led to you wanting to leave.
You are open to staying longer than a month if things work out, right?
Sorry, I probably should have asked that first.”
She nods. “I am. I was planning to sign on for a year with the other couple. So, I’m definitely up for a twelve-month contract if the trial period works out.
That would give me time to save up the money I need to get my own place without a roommate.
” She motions under the table. “And by then, I should know whether or not my body is ever going to be as strong as it was before the accident, so it would really be…”
She grips her mug tighter, until the tips of her fingers go white as she adds in a softer voice, “This job would be a great thing for me. And to be brutally honest, Dean, we never would have worked out for more than a night or two, anyway. I don’t date men with kids.
Ever. It’s just not something I’m comfortable with at this point in my life, and I don’t know that I’ll ever be.
I’m not even sure I want children of my own.
I love taking care of kids, especially great little people like Bella and Ava, but I also like going home at the end of the day and doing my own thing, you know?
Playing bass and designing clothes and just…
rotting in the bathtub reading trashy novels.
The thought of being a full-time parent or stepparent isn’t something I’m excited about right now. At all.”
The speech lands like a sucker punch.
I truly didn’t see that coming.
I don’t blame her for drawing a boundary—I did the same thing Saturday night—but hearing her state so bluntly that I never would have been more than a one or two-night stand is…
Well, it hurts a little.
And is more disappointing than it should be.
Both of which are completely inappropriate things to be feeling about my new nanny. So, I force a polite smile as I add, “Okay. Well, good. Great. I’m glad you shared that, too. It looks like we’re clear to move forward with a clean slate.”
“Great,” she echoes with an equally polite smile.
“Really great. I’m glad to have you here. I think you’ll be an amazing influence on the girls.”
Then we sit there in silence for a long beat.
I’m uncomfortable.
Uncomfortable as hell, in fact, but Clover seems fine.
She sips her coffee, smiles, and sits back in her chair with a sigh, apparently unbothered by the lack of conversation.
I, however, am not.
But I suddenly can’t think of small talk that’s guaranteed to be appropriate for a man and his new nanny.
I’m overthinking this, and will probably be overthinking it for a good time to come.
I’ve never had a relationship like this one.
Hell, I don’t know if I’m even supposed to call this a relationship.
Maybe it’s more of a business arrangement? A co-worker type of thing?
Fuck. My head’s starting to hurt.
I’m about to excuse myself to go put in a load of laundry—anything to get some breathing room—when Clover asks, “So, Bella has big opinions about bananas and a bit of a funny tummy when she’s upset, and they both love garlic bread, playing in the bath, and think sparkly tacos are super cute.
What else should I know that’s not in the caregiver directions? ”
My chest loosens a little. Talking about the girls is good. As long as I stick to the girls, this will be fine. “Well, Ava is deeply suspicious of anything green,” I say. “Unless it’s on a pizza. Asparagus on pizza? Delicious. On a plate? The devil’s work.”
Clover laughs. “That’s fair, I guess. Pizza is its own ecosystem. And Ava thinks she’s too old for a nap, but sometimes needs one. That’s why she has quiet time with her audiobook during Bella’s nap?”
I nod. “Yeah. At least half of the time, I’ll go in to wake them, and Ava will be asleep in her fort, too. But we both pretend she’s just ‘resting her eyes.’ She’s terrified of being forced back into a nap schedule for some reason.”
“It probably feels like backsliding on the growing up front,” Clover muses. “It’s never fun to feel like you’re losing ground, even as a kid.”
I sigh. “I guess. I just wish she weren’t in such a hurry to grow up.
I keep telling her there’s no rush, but she’s been like that since she was a baby.
She was the one we had to chase down to force her to quit playing with toys long enough to eat.
As soon as she could crawl, she was on the go.
” I roll my eyes. “And determined to go exactly where she pleased. As you discovered this morning.”
Clover offers a sympathetic smile. “Some people just come out like that, I think. Independent and in a hurry. Sometimes, I wish I were more like that. I mean, I have goals and dreams for my life, but I take my sweet time getting around to the action plan part.”
“Well, you’re still young,” I say, with a sympathetic smile of my own. “You have plenty of time to implement an action plan. You don’t have to be in a hurry, either.”
Her lips quirk. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Kate.”
I wince, making her laugh. “Please, no Mr. Kate. I can still be Dean, right? That isn’t against the rules?”
“Sure,” she says, still grinning. “You’ll only be Mr. Kate when you’re giving me wise old man advice.”
I exhale a huff of laughter. “Got it. I’ll be sure to keep that to a minimum then.
I already feel old enough, and definitely don’t have much to offer on the wisdom front.
” I push back from the table. “Come on. I’ll show you the apartment, and you can spend the rest of the day settling in.
I can cover the girls’ routine after naptime. ”
“Are you sure?” she asks, rising to follow me, collecting her cane from where it’s leaned against the wall. “I don’t mind staying until four-thirty. That’s the deal for days when you aren’t gone overnight, right?”
“Yeah, but I want you to have some time to get your space ready,” I toss over my shoulder as I collect her suitcase from beside the door.
I had to push it against the wall to get in, an Ava-bolting deterrent I couldn’t help but admire.
As we cross the yard toward the detached garage and the apartment above, the January air feels cold after the warmth of the kitchen.
The magnolia by the gate still holds a few brown leaves it never dropped in the fall, currently rattling in the wind.
It’s a good day for staying cozy inside, and I’m looking forward to a lazy afternoon with the girls before practice starts tomorrow.