Page 27 of The Nanny Next Door

I was taken aback, but pleased. And like I was the old Miles Kramer again, the young man who hadn’t yet experienced loss, I actually flirted with her. "Do I? Well, you're quite cute too, all the time. Especially when you blush."

Lila's cheeks turned pink as if on cue, and she ducked her head to hide the smile pulling at her lips. "Stop it," she said, but there was no real protest in her voice. I was left reeling from my own audacity, and from the lack of guilt I felt at flirting with someone other than my late wife.

We found a spot in the park, spreading out the picnic blanket over the grass. Olivia ran off to chase a butterfly while Lila and I laid out the treats she’d prepared, but my daughter sweetly trotted back over when Lila called her over for our family park brunch.

We’d chosen the right day for it. The weather was perfect, the sun bright but not scorching, with a light breeze that carried the scents of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers. The sky was a brilliant blue, with a few fluffy white clouds lazily drifting by. As we settled down, the sounds of the park surrounded us—children laughing, dogs barking, and the distant hum of city life.

Lila handed Olivia a sandwich, carefully cut into small, easy-to-hold pieces. Olivia's eyes lit up as she took a bite. "This is so yummy, Lila!" she exclaimed, her mouth full.

"I'm glad you like it, sweetheart," Lila replied, laughing a little. She leaned over to me, telling me in a whisper, “It’s just peanut butter and jelly with the crunchy peanut butter she likes. She’s gotten really into a compliments phase lately.”

I smiled, watching Olivia hum and dance to herself as she munched her sandwich.

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the simple pleasure of good food and each other’s company. I watched Olivia, her face smeared with jelly as she concentrated on her sandwich, and felt a surge of tenderness. She looked so happy, so carefree. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, withdrawn child she was around me. Lila knew how to bring out the best in all of us, it seemed.

"Lila, can we have fruit?" Olivia asked, her eyes wide.

"Of course, hon. I brought strawberries, just for you," Lila said, reaching into the picnic basket and pulling out a container of the bright red berries, sliced neatly into even pieces.

Olivia's face lit up with joy. "Yay! My favorite!"

“They’re my favorite, too,” I told my little girl, and just that simple comparison to me made her grin hugely.

“Really?”

“Really. Your mama loved them, too,” I heard myself saying. And because I’d started the story, despite the sharp pain it elicited, I continued. “When she… well, when you were in her tummy, she had this app on her phone that told us about you, growing. Early on, it told us you were just the size of a strawberry, and we called you that for a while. Our little strawberry. Before we knew what we were going to name you.”

I could feel Lila’s gaze locked on my face, but I kept my own gaze on my daughter. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her small mouth open just a little bit.

“Wow,” she said.

“Yeah,” I agreed, though my throat felt constricted. “Wow.”

After a while, we wrapped up our little meal, and Lila enlisted Olivia to help pack everything away and throw out any trash. With almost no help from me, Olivia’s actual parent, Lila seemed to be raising my child to be polite and thoughtful. Or maybe it was Janessa’s genes coming through in another way.

Olivia desperately wanted to go play, so Lila and I nodded her toward one of the playgrounds that was in our view so we could keep an eye on her. I sat on the blanket, shielding my eyes from the sun with a raised hand so I could watch Olivia run.

"You're really good with her," I said to Lila quietly, not looking away from the pleasant childhood scene. Unlike me, Olivia was a natural people-person, daringly approaching kids bigger than her to ask them to play. She’d already befriended a pair of twins who looked about five when Lila spoke.

"She's a wonderful kid. It's easy to be good with her," Lila replied from beside me. Her next words were softer, testing the waters. “You’re pretty good with her, too, when you’re around.”

I stiffened. Lila shifted uncomfortably, adjusting her posture out of something like embarrassment. I could feel the words she wasn’t saying next hanging between us, and I couldn't stand the waiting. So I looked at her, my eyes asking her to spit it out. But where I expected a reproach, even a lecture, Lila’s face softened into a sad smile.

“She misses her dad, you know.”

Just those words, and a wave of pain and grief and something like love smashed into my chest. I could feel my eyes prickling, my jaw tensing in my attempt to maintain composure and never, ever allow a tear to fall.

“I… it’s been hard,” I explained, my voice hoarse. “Since her mother died, I’ve… well, Olivia looks so much like her. It’s just…”

“Hard,” Lila completed for me, moving closer beside me. We were almost touching, but not quite. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too,” I said with a dry, humorless laugh. “Janessa… she was the one who was meant to be this wonderful parent. All her softness, and she grew up with these great parents, too. After she passed, Olivia stayed with her grandparents for weeks. It must have been a real shock to her little system when she had to come back to live with me. Hell, I never even had much of a relationship with my own father. He shipped me off to boarding school the second he could, and… I guess I just worry. That I’m doing the same with her. That I can’t be a good dad without her mom here with me.”

Lila kindly overlooked the crack in my voice. If I’d been able to let myself cry, she probably would have welcomed my tears with the same sweet openness she had with everyone. Maybe that quality in her was what made me say more.

“I’m hardly a person without Janessa. She had all the capacity in the world for love, and I’m… cold. Robotic, some people say. Maybe they’re right.”

“I don’t see you that way at all,” Lila told me gently. Carefully, she placed her hand over mine on the picnic blanket, and just that casual contact was like a firework shooting through me. Real-life sparks flying. Her cheeks were a little flushed, and she struggled to meet my eyes. She must have felt it, too.