Page 10 of The Kiss Principle

“I’m serious. What the fuck kind of bullshit is this?”

He covered her ear with his free hand. “You can’t talk like that around a baby.”

“Fuck that. Trust me, she’s heard worse. How did you make her stop crying?”

“I didn’t make her stop crying,” Zé said. He rocked her slowly. “She just stopped.”

“Because you’re holding her.”

I got the full smile again. Almost a smirk.

“Fuck that,” I said again. “That is so fucking unfair.”

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, combing her hair with one finger. “She still loves her dad.” The grin flashed out again. “She just happens to also have great taste in men.”

“I’m not her dad,” I said. “She’s my brother’s. I think. It’s a long story.”

Zé was quiet for what felt like a long time before he said, “You’re taking care of her. I think that makes you her dad in any way that counts.”

“It makes me a sucker, that’s what it makes me.”

He looked at me, and I couldn’t read whatever was written in his eyes, so I turned my back on him and got the water running.

“You thought I was a babysitter,” Zé said.

“A nanny. Uh, manny. Look, I’m sorry. And I will pay you.”

“I have two younger sisters.” The words burst out of him. “And a younger brother. I know how to take care of babies.”

I turned around.

It was another new expression, a strange mixture of defiance and—what? Vulnerability? Fear? “I could take care of her.”

“Are you licensed?”

“Nannies don’t have to be licensed in California.” Some of that dark ruddiness came into his cheeks again. “I checked.”

“Are you a serial killer?”

He didn’t seem like the eye-rolling type, but he was clearly tempted. “And you need the help. You can’t do everything yourself.”

I opened my mouth, and then I closed it again.

He wasn’t wrong about that; the thought of reliving the last three days made me want to run into traffic. And while partof me knew that I could, in theory, do this—there were single parents all over the world who did this—another part of me realized that most of those people managed because they had some kind of support system. And what did I have? Chuy was gone, and even if he was here, I wouldn’t trust him alone with an infant. Mom would be gone for at least a week, and I still had a vivid memory of when Augustus, who was crawling, pulled her curling iron off the counter. The nanny service wouldn’t be able to provide anyone until the end of the month, and that’s assuming whoever they found was willing to take a long-term position with me. Zé, at least, seemed unfazed by my particular brand of crazy.

You already left her alone with him, I thought, and what did he do? He got her ready for her nap, like you told him. He rocked her. He sang to her. She wouldn’t stop crying until he held her again. And he was worried about you. He made you a salad. When was the last time anyone did anything for you?

“Please,” Zé said, his voice small. His shoulders curved in, and he looked as tired as I felt. With something like a start, I realized he was young. He might not have been any older than Augustus. He must have taken the silence as a negative, and it was like a cloud moving across his face. His voice was stiff, as though he were fighting for every word. “I need this.”

I thought about how early he must have gotten up so he could drive out here from wherever he lived. About going door to door. Making his pitch over and over again. And, if they said yes, the casual humiliations. He was handsome. Plenty of people would expect more than a massage. I thought about what I’d want someone to do if it were Augustus.

“You have to pass a background check.”

“Yes.” His voice was husky with emotion. “Of course.”

“Fingerprints, the whole deal.”

“I can do that. I’ve never been arrested. I’ll pass. I promise I’ll pass.”

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