Page 76 of Head Over Heels

Chase rises from the couch and steps forward, hand extended. “This is Gillian Hollis. Chase Crayton.”

They shake politely.

“I’ll leave you guys to talk,” I say. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of…”

“Stay,” Chase says.

It’s more a command than an offer. And when I turn to look at him, there’s an expression on his face I never expected to see there.

Hurt.

Chapter 40

Chase

Gillian seems great. She is polite and professional. She asks questions about Katie—about her eating habits, her preferences, her health—and about me, and what I want for Katie. She talks enthusiastically about how she loves outdoor activities and crafts and introducing kids to music, theater, sports, dance, and whatever else they’re interested in.

I haven’t seen her with Katie yet, of course, but I can imagine that Gillian will be great with her. Katie will love that Gillian knows how to do twelve different kinds of French braids and has memorized the lyrics to all theFrozensongs.

So why don’t I feel any enthusiasm at all about the possibility of hiring her?

It’s a rhetorical question. I knowexactly why. It’s because I don’t want to hire a new nanny at all.

I want Liv to stay.

“Katie really loves crafts,” Liv says to Gillian. She’s leaned in chummily, hands on knees, all smiles. “I’ve been teaching her to make friendship bracelets and lanyards and a bunch of other relatively simple thread-craft. I think she might be ready for some sewing, even. She’s got very good hand-eye coordination.”

She says it with pride.

“And I’ve been teaching her some simple cooking and baking, too, and she loves that. We even separated eggs and beat the whites the other day and she only broke one yolk.”

“That’s amazing for five!” Gillian says.

“I know, right? The only thing we really haven’t talked much about is sleep.” She hesitates, turning to me. “Do you want to tell Gillian about the nightmares?”

No.

No, I don’t want to tell her about Katie’s nightmares.

Liv’s so lighthearted, as if leaving Katie, turning her over to someone else’s care, were no big deal. As if leaving, period, were no big deal. But I have no right to be petulant. I knew from the very, very beginning that Liv wasn’t staying.

Still, it doesn’t make this feel any better.

“I don’t know if Liv mentioned, but Katie lost her mother about two months ago.”

“Oh,” Gillian says, stricken. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” I say. “We weren’t married, or particularly close, but you can imagine how hard it’s been for Katie. She still occasionally has nightmares. But if you go in and comfort her, she settles down fast. She’ll just go back to sleep. Otherwise she’s a really good sleeper. No night terrors or waking up and wanting to be out of her bed or any of that. No bed-wetting.”

“And I’d be fine if therewere,” Gillian says, beaming reassuringly. “I’ve dealt with that before. I actually did the bed-wetting alarm with the previous family I worked with, and I got up with the kids at night and everything. Two weeks, and no more bed-wetting.”

She smiles at both of us. She really is very competent.

I will be lucky to have her.

I repeat it to myself, for reinforcement:I will be lucky to have her.

Liv and Gillian are chatting away again, about dress-up chests and making magic wands with dowels and card stock and glitter…

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