Page 18 of The Nanny Tenure (Single Dads Club)

Myprescription bottle.

“I was double-checking that there were enough towels in your bathroom when I saw multiple bottles around the sink.” He held the one in his hand out toward me. “Want to explain what these are and why you have them around my three-year-old’s sink, where he can reach them? Open them?”

His jaw was tight with so much tension in his body, I reflexively backed up, my heels hanging off the edge of the step, and I fell backward. He lunged for me at the same time I caught myself with my hand on the railing.

“Christ almighty,” he murmured. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He exhaled harshly and wrapped his hand around my elbow to pull me into the dining room, where we could still clearly see Finn banging around downstairs. Then he set the pill bottle on the table. Like it was more evidence of my disqualifications for this job. “I need you to explain.”

“I have epilepsy,” I said quietly.

I swore I saw pity flash in his eyes before they hardened again. “You have epilepsy? As in seizures? Why am I just now learning you have seizures?”

My shoulders had unconsciously hiked up to my ears, and I reminded myself to drop them. “I didn’t intentionally keep it from you, but it never came up.”

“Like your car?”

“I, well?—”

“You didn’t think to mention you had a serious medical condition before accepting a job looking after a toddler?” he snapped and lifted his hand, causing me to flinch instinctively, and he froze. “Are you— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He stepped back from me, and I shook my head, forcing a smile past my embarrassment and shame. Embarrassed that I couldn’t seem to get on the right foot to start this new job, and ashamed that I was actually afraid of him. Even for only a moment. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said. “I apologize for raising my voice. It’s not okay.” Then he lifted his hand once again and raked his fingers through his hair.Thatwas what he’d meant to do, brush his hand through his hair. “I’m really anxious about all of this. About my work and the aftermath of the video and now this…” He circled his hand, pointing to Finn, me, and then himself. “It’s been a big adjustment with Tessa away, and I feel like I’m failing. I—” He huffed out a sound of irritation. “I don’t fail. Ever.”

I chanced a step closer to him. With his chin down, his hands laced together at the back of his neck, it was obvious he’d been put through the wringer. Like he needed a week’s worth of good sleep to begin to recover. In an attempt to lighten the mood, I offered, “I fail all the time.”

He raised his head, eyeing me, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. The tension easing. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

I shrugged. “You can’t control everything. I learned that lesson pretty early, so it’s easy to forget I’m supposed to be upset when I fail at something. Even more when I quit.”

He sat on the edge of the round dining table, pushing the random items aside to make room. “You’ve quit a lot?”

“I wouldn’t saya lot, but I was in the ‘if it doesn’t bring you joy, get rid of it’ camp long before it became popular. When you could possibly black out at any moment, it kinda forces you to reevaluate things.”

“You’re not making me feel any better about this.” He rubbed the heels of his palms against his forehead as if I was giving him a headache, and I felt terrible that I was disappointing him. “How can I trust you to be with Finn? What if you have a seizure around him? What if you have a seizure while you’re driving?”

I sat on the table next to him, so close I could lean my head on his shoulder if I wanted. Not that I wanted to. Or could. He was my boss. And this was a serious conversation. “It’s managed with the medication. I haven’t had a seizure in a long time.”

“How long?”

I tipped my head back, doing the math. “Three years.”

“But you still could have one now?” he asked, though it sounded more like an accusation.

I’d spent the last decade of my life on a pendulum. First, living life as a shell of myself, then taking too many risks. I’d swung from fear to rebellion, and I was ready to find balance. To find what made me happy and to learn what I was good at. I’d never given myself the opportunity, and now that I had it, I wouldn’t let it go.

I met his steady gaze. “You don’t need to worry about me caring for Finn. I would never do anything to put him in danger.”

“But I need to worry about you,” he said, and it was a punch in the gut.

“You don’t.”

“What do I do if you have a seizure?”

“I won’t have one,” I said, but he only shook his head.

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