Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
GRACIE
Day two of being a nanny is a success. And by success I mean Everly only threw one fit and I only had to clean up one mess. Chicken nuggets should've been a safe choice for lunch, but alas . . . they were not. I forgot about the mess ketchup could make.
When I picked out my “ I squirt on juicy wieners” shirt this morning, I never imagined I would actually be wearing real ketchup halfway through the day. Joke's on me because now I need to Shout the white shirt.
Oh, and did I mention laundry is my nemesis?
Yes, I'm a grown-ass adult who loses the laundry battle on the regular.
Shrink clothes? Absolutely.
Bleach stains where there shouldn't be? More times than I can count.
Stains that refuse to come out? Hell to the yes.
So do I think my current shirt is salvageable? Probably not.
"Adding to the shirt’s design?" Ang's sudden booming voice has me jumping ten feet in the air with a yelp.
I clutch my chest and spin around. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't hear him come home.
"Sorry." His words say one thing, but he looks more amused than apologetic. "I wasn't exactly being quiet."
"Yes, well, I was too busy thinking about how I'm probably not going to be able to salvage this shirt."
I look down at the large ketchup stain knowing there’s a similar one on the back. How it got there, I have no idea. One of life's greatest mysteries when children are involved apparently.
"A little stain remover and it’ll be good as new."
"HA!" Yes, I actually audibly bark the word, because this situation calls for it. "You haven't seen my laundry skills. I can ruin even the most basic wash cycle."
"Give it to me." Ang puts his hand out and wiggles his fingers. "It's my fault the shirt is stained to begin with, so I might as well clean it for you."
Before I can fully comprehend what I'm doing, I'm pulling the shirt over my head and handing it to him.
I realize my mistake when Ang's Adam's apple bobs.
Shit. I'm standing in front of my employer in my bra and shorts.
I mentally slap my forehead as I cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to reclaim some element of modesty. "I'm just going to . . ." I hike my thumb toward the general area of my room. Then quickly put my arm back over my exposed boobs.
"Ummm . . . yeah. I'll just . . ." Ang waves the shirt I placed in his palm. "Take care of this."
I hightail it to my part of the house like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels.
What the hell was I thinking?
My impulsivity is going to get me in trouble one of these days. My parents used to say it. My siblings are always saying it. I’ve always brushed it off. But now I'm starting to realize they may just be correct.
I grab a new shirt. A plain one this time because, hell, I've caused enough trouble for one day.
And I'm supposed to have dinner with Ang and his kids.
For some bizarre reason I want to impress his older two daughters.
Everly is still a work in progress, but maybe I can make a dent with Olivia and Zoey.
Or the whole night just might crash and burn. There's no way to know for sure.
I dillydally in my room for an extra thirty minutes, doing absolutely nothing beyond finding excuse after excuse to avoid Ang. Pathetic excuses, might I add. Like the sudden need to refold all my shirts in a different way. Seriously, who does that?
Oh wait . . . me. I'm the type of person who does that.
Annoyed with myself for my actions, I toss the shirt in my hand onto the bed with a huff, and turn on a dime. I march straight across the room to the door that leads to the kitchen and come to a halt when I throw the door open and find Ang at the island prepping dinner.
All of my bravado comes crashing down.
"I was beginning to wonder if you were going to bail on dinner with me and the kids," Ang says without lifting his head from what he's doing.
"I don't make a habit of reneging on promises I make. Besides, I'm excited to meet Livy and Zoey."
Only a small white lie. I'm more nervous than anything, but Ang doesn't need to know that.
Except, when he looks up, I have a feeling he knows exactly how nervous I am.
"You sure about that?"
I cross my arms over my chest in defiance. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know, but you're wearing a blank shirt and I'm thinking you don't do that very often."
"Livy and Zoey can read and I don't have any clean shirts that are remotely appropriate for them to ask about," I tell him with a little too much attitude and confidence.
At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
"If you say so."
I have the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him, but I hold back. It certainly wouldn't help the point I'm trying to make. Changing the subject seems like the best course of action.
"Is there something I can do to help?"
"How are your chopping skills?"
I scoff. "I mean, I won't cut off my fingers if that's what you're worried about."
Probably not anyway. Cooking is another one of those skills I don't do very well.
Truthfully, I'm a horrible adult. I've spent too long single and eating out rather than learning to take care of myself.
If I'm going to keep up this whole nanny thing, I'm going to need to learn to do more than boil water and pop things in the microwave.
"How about you chop the vegetables for the stir-fry?"
"Stir-fry, huh?" I move over to join him at the island. "I guess I need to up my lunch game."
I wash my hands at the sink and reach for the vegetables currently sitting in a strainer. It takes me a few seconds to locate a second cutting board and knife.
"Trust me, if it were up to Everly, every meal would consist of chicken nuggets or spaghetti. I usually have to fight with her to eat anything else for dinner. Thankfully, Zoey and Livy have my eating habits and will eat pretty much anything.”
Ang stops mid cutting up the chicken and gives me a sheepish look. “I’m so sorry. I never even asked what you liked to eat."
"I mean, I eat more like Everly, but stir-fry sounds delicious tonight."
The last thing I want to do is make him feel bad about what he's cooking.
"I'll remember to ask what you like next time."
Even though we have yet to share one meal, I smile at the thought of us eating together again.
Knowing he wants to include me in his dinner routine with his daughters causes butterflies to take flight in my stomach.
I can't remember the last time I had this feeling with a man.
Or maybe it's not just the man but the family that he comes with that is making everything so different.
We work in silence for a few minutes before it dawns on me that I haven't heard little voices since coming into the kitchen.
"Where are the girls?"
"Everly is watching Bluey while Zoey and Livy do their homework in their bedrooms."
"They don't need help with their homework?" As a kid, homework was always done at the kitchen table. I half expected the same for Ang and his daughters. The man adores them.
"I wish," Ang laughs. "They have desks in their rooms and prefer silence.
They are both smart as a whip and have accused me of hovering when I ask them to do it down here.
I finally got the hint and just let them do it alone.
Their teachers say they could teach the class anyway, so who am I to argue. "
That's . . . sad. Homework to my parents was a bonding time. I wonder if the girls would change their minds if they knew that. It's something to think about for the future.
I chop the vegetables in silence for a few more minutes, but my nerves start to get the better of me again. The situation reminds me of the “Tower of Terror.” I know something is coming, but the when is unpredictable, so all I'm left with is to wait and worry.
I decide I need more of a distraction.
"Tell me something about your daughters so I'm not going into this blind." The words pop out of my mouth even though that isn't what I was going to say.
I'm sure Ang's shocked expression matches my own.
"Uhhh . . . sure. You've obviously met Everly.
She's my strong-willed one. Livy is quiet, whereas Zoey is very talkative. Livy is her mother to a T, whereas Zoey is exactly like me. Except for her smarts. She got those from her mother. Livy prefers to stay at home. She likes to cook, dance, and draw. Zoey is her opposite. She’s the athletic one, and if our town had more sport options, I'm sure she would try every single one.
There's nothing that kid can't do with a ball or her body. "
I've only lived in Willow Creek for a short time, but I've paid attention to how things go month after month in the small town. And as I listen to Ang describe his daughters, ideas begin to pop up in my head.
I don't get the chance to voice them though, because before I know it, little feet are making their way toward us. At first it's just one set, but then two more join in, and before I know it, all three girls are standing in the doorway staring at me.
It's obvious which one is Livy, and based on what Ang said about her being the spitting image of her mother, I quickly realize I'm in over my head. Because if this is what a younger version of Ang's late wife looked like, she was drop-dead gorgeous.
And the opposite of me in every way.