Page 8 of Worth the Vow

Because, honestly, that is the worst thing right now. Whoever designed the American healthcare system better be in hell.

I work a few hours a week as a concierge at Everlasting Inn and Spa, as a bartender at a local dive bar in town, babysitting whenever I can, and nannying for my boss’s three kids. I work a bazillion hours a week, but none provide healthcare benefits, because I’m not a full-time employee. Nick and Sofia Santo, the owners of Everlasting, offered to fudge some paperwork and get me health insurance, but I said no.

I didn’t like that it would be somewhat dishonest. I also didn’t like that it would still be too much money per month, and I’d have to find another part-time job to cover the cost … and basically never sleep.

But mostly, I didn’t want to feel indebted to the Santo family any more than I already was. Nick and Sofia are great. Their son Dominic is the bane of my existence, and I’d prefer not to have anything else for him to hold over my head.

I was introduced to the Santo family by my half-brother, Matt. I only discovered Matt a few years ago when I found my biological father after my mom died. My dad, Christopher Turner, didn’t know I existed, but once I found him, he admitted he had two sons in Mountain Springs, a town a couple hours south, near Colorado Springs. He kept telling me he’d introduce me to my half brothers, Matt and Zane, but continued to put it off until one evening, Matt walked into the bar where I worked. I knew it was him immediately. We have the same eyes. It helped that I knew his name and could stalk — I mean, find — him on social media beforehand.

I was accepted into his group of friends immediately, and even by his mom, which unnerved me initially. Most women would have booted their husband’s illegitimate offspring out of their house, but Angie Turner accepted me with open arms. Matt’s now wife, Victoria, said she had the same reaction I had when Angie pulled her in for a hug. It was the first mom-hug I’d had in years, and I didn’t know I was starving for it.

I thought briefly about moving to Mountain Springs, but there were no jobs, or affordable housing options for me. I helped fill an administrative assistant position for one of my brother’s friends, Nathan, while his usual assistant was on maternity leave, but obviously, they couldn’t offer me anything after that. After my dad was arrested on a variety of charges, the bar where he employed me was seized, and I couldn’t make ends meet on my other jobs. Matt suggested I visit his extended family in Eternity Springs, and that’s how I ended up here.

My lower weekly hours opened me up for helping Matt’s cousin, Dominic, with a nanny position. I adore his kids, but Dominic can suck rocks. He has absolutely no personality other than being a grumpy man who sneers and growls at everyone. I knew within the first hour of employment with him that he was going to make my life a living hell. He critiqued my grammar. My grammar! He had the audacity to remind me that I was working with his children, and I better set a good example for them. I needed to be ‘on’ all the time, he said.

“Your job is to teach them, Katharine,” he reminded me often.

“My job is to not murder their father,” I muttered under my breath just as often.

“I assure you, I have excellent hearing. You may want to keep those thoughts to yourself.” It should be criminal how attractive this man can make anything appear. Even wearing just a henley and jeans, Dominic is all male, standing just over six feet, and very much embodying the tall, dark, and handsome demographic.

“Oh, that’s cute you think I didn’t want you to hear that.”

And then the conversation was done, because the man lifted one eyebrow, growled deep in his throat, and I had some very inappropriate thoughts about him and hightailed it out of there. But, I was half tempted to teach the kids some Eminem lyrics out of sheer spite. Undoubtedly Dominic wouldn’t recognize the late nineties rapper, as I can only assume he listens to static, white noise, or only boring classical music. But my conscience won out, and I dutifully listened to children’s music around the kids.

Most of the time I was responsible for Dominic’s youngest, Aspen, who was still in preschool. I’d pick up the two oldest kids, Sienna and Carter, from school, then come immediately back to Dominic’s house to get their homework done. They weren’t allowed to relax or unwind. It was homework, chores, and then they could play with toys before dinner.

The man asked me for a curriculum plan for their summer break.

When I asked Matt’s wife, Victoria, who runs a preschool, she giggled vindictively and sent me a pdf of Colorado standards for elementary education. I snuck into the hotel business suite, printed it off, then left it on Dominic’s desk with an eloquently drawn stick figure flipping him off.

The following morning, as I was sitting with the kids as they ate breakfast, Dominic stalked into the kitchen. I’d never seen him run, and definitely never a leisurely walk. Dominic always strode into the room like he was getting ready to force a power struggle.

“What is planned for today, Katharine?” he’d asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. One of the rare things Dominic and I agreed on was the necessity for caffeine to start the day. “I certainly hope art isn’t on the docket, since your skills are severely lacking.”

“Huh?” I asked, confused as to where he was going with this.

Dominic turned around, a cup of coffee in his hands, and I found myself staring at how tiny the mug looked compared to his hands. “Your art skills. Since you left me the drawing with the standards for education, I assumed you wanted my opinion. I regret to tell you I can’t score it very high, Ms. Reynolds. Try better next time, yes?”

I slammed my hands on the table, absolutely fuming, and stood up to chase after him as he walked toward the garage. “Are you fucking serious, Dominic?”

He whirled around and put two fingers to my lips. “You will watch your language around my children.”

Just the touch of his fingers to my lips seemed to make my entire body buzz with adrenaline. Only a foot or so apart, I could see gold flecks in his irises, a somewhat striking difference to how often his eyes appear black as midnight. My eyes darted to his lips, and when I looked back up, I found him staring at mine. Almost against his will, Dominic’s hand slid across my cheek and into my hair. “Tell me what your plans are today, Katharine.”

His voice skirted along my skin, and I found it difficult not to appear nonplussed. “I’ve decided they’re old enough to learn about the birds and the bees.”

“Katharine,” he growled, a sound so deep and guttural that I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my mouth. When Dominic’s eyes widened, I realized it was louder than I thought, and I stepped back from him.

“Relax. There’s a free class at the nature preserve, and then I plan to take them for a picnic at the park.” I struggled to keep my breathing even as he studied me.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he asked, clearing his throat as he turned away from me. But I didn’t miss how he appeared to adjust himself as he walked away from me.

He didn’t ask for a curriculum plan again, but he did question me almost daily on what I had planned. I told him I’d be teaching his kids how to have fun, and he actually looked confused. The man has zero social life, works a ton of hours every week, and then devotes himself to spending time with his children whenever he can. But I have yet to see him have ‘fun.’ As a kid, whenever my mom had time, we’d have all kinds of adventures that wouldn’t be considered educational in Dominic’s eyes. But then, life took a nasty turn.

Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was fourteen. She had a double mastectomy, went through chemotherapy, and we thought she was good. We thought she’d won. But my mom held back some important information from me then. She knew there was a high probability of it spreading, and she chose not to tell me. She wasn’t surprised when she was diagnosed again just before my seventeenth birthday. What continued was years of treatments, oncologist appointments, and me quickly evolving from a teen to an adult, learning how to pay bills, fight against our medical system, and watch my mom slowly deteriorate into a shell of herself.

She passed when I was twenty three. Five years ago, almost to the day. It feels like a lifetime ago, and yet also just a blink of an eye. I didn’t realize how alone I’d feel when I went back to our shared apartment after the memorial service. As an only child, she’d left me with no other family. I’d spent the previous five years caring for her, which meant I had no social life. No friends. No boyfriend. Nothing.

---