Page 37 of The Perfect Mistake

“No, no, that’s… amazing. Thank you.”

I nod. Look back down at her hip and the ice pack covering it. For a long moment, I can’t think of anything to say to make this better. This should never have happened; I should have halted their dancing.

I clear my throat. “A dance party, huh?”

“Yeah,” she says with a half smile. “I’m guessing you’d disapprove?”

“You’re hurt. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

She moves the ice pack around. “Your kids have a lot of energy. Especially on days when Sam didn’t have his little league soccer practice and Willa didn’t play tennis. She had a piano lesson that she hated, and he worked on his school project. If they didn’t get some of that pent-up energy out, they would have struggled to fall asleep. Like they did the other week when you were traveling. Willa made me read every single book on her bookshelf out of pure frustration.”

“You don’t think dancing will make them hyper instead?”

“No,” she says. “I think it makes them exhausted. Like little puppies that fall asleep midplay.”

“Puppies,” I repeat.

She shrugs. “Sorry. I know they’re not animals, but my parents had two litters while I was growing up, so it’s… yeah. The analogy works.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended. They’re definitely a bit feral.” I look around her room. She’s made it her own in small, imperceptible ways. There’s a phone charging on the nightstand. A Kindle. The desk has a few notepads and a closed laptop.

And yet, something is missing. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m sorry about that out there, you know. The kids. I’ll make sure they know it wasn’t anything they did.”

“Don’t apologize, it wasn’t your fault, either. And I’ll tell them,” I say. Then I realize what it is. “You don’t have a TV in here.”

I’d never thought about that before. Never had a reason to be inside a nanny’s room. I wasn’t the one to set up or decorate it.

Isabel chuckles. “That’s what you’re thinking about? I can watch shows on my laptop.”

“Or in the living room.”

She shifts on the bed, her eyes turning curious. Has she always been this earnest? How had I not seen it before? “I’ll keep doing that then,” she says. “And you’re sure you don’t mind?”

It’s an opportunity to draw a new line. To set some firmer boundaries. But I remember her soft voice and laughter from the other night on the couch, and I can’t find the strength to draw it. “No,” I say. “I don’t mind.”

A heaviness has settled in the air, and I can’t look away from her gaze. Her hair is spread out around her on the pillow in a cloud of dark silk. The sight feels like a brand on my skin, a memory I know I’ll never escape. A memory I shouldn’t have. But now, it’s there, and I imagine what she would look like splayed out on my bed. If I could make her smile, and laugh as she lies beside me.

The soft creak of her bedroom door startles us both.

“Hi,” a small voice says. “Isa? Are you okay?”

Isabel smiles at my son, standing in the doorway, holding a stuffed bunny under his right arm. “Yes. Come on in.”

He rushes across the room, eyes locked on Isabel. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need to rest for a little bit.”

I catch sight of Willa standing at the threshold. Her bottom lip is between her teeth, and there’s a conflicted look on her face. I wave her in. She walks across the space and lets me wrap my free arm around her.

Samuel sniffs. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “It was an accident.”

“But if I hadn’t asked Isabel to spin…”

“No, Sam,” Isabel says. “I love to dance, and I danced with you guys because I wanted to. You didn’t do anything wrong. Either of you.”

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