Page 38 of Promise Me Sunshine

“You were actually strategizing.”

“Like I said, I’ve been nannying for a long time.”

“How long?”

“I babysat for my neighborhood since I was twelve, but I got my first real experience as an au pair in Spain when I was seventeen.”

“How long were you there?”

“Three months. Right after graduation. But then Lou got sick and I came home. Nannying here paid well and for the most part I was able to mold a lot of my hours around Lou, to help take care of her. It worked for us.”

“Did you mostly take long-term gigs at that point?”

“Yeah. My first family in the States was for four years. The second was for three and the last was for two. They’re the ones who recommended me to Reese. I started doing short-term stuff when Lou really needed my time and energy, toward the end.”

“And now you’ve just been floating from gig to gig like Mary Poppins.”

“Ah, Mary Poppins, the OG commitment-phobe.”

I clear my throat. “So…” I start. “As long as we’re asking each other wildly personal questions…”

He hums to show he’s listening, but he’s still writing in his notebook.

“What was it like growing up with a famous dad?”

He abruptly stops writing but doesn’t look up at me. For a long moment, I think maybe I got it wrong, or maybe I got it right, but he’s not going to answer. But then he says, “It was…not fun.”

“When she described you as Ainsley’s uncle, I wasn’t sure in which way she meant, but…You and Reese are brother and sister?”

He nods, eyes still cast down. “Half. Through our dad.”

He tips his head toward yet another picture of Carp Hollis on the wall. I realize all at once that not only did Miles lose his mother and cousin ten years ago, he also lost his father a year and a half ago.

I study the photo and realize that it looks even more like Miles than the black-and-white ones in the entryway.

“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching across the table to give his hand a quick squeeze. “I feel silly for not having noticed the resemblance before.”

I pull my hand back and he flattens his own against the table. “Thanks. It’s okay. We weren’t close. Not until the last few months of his life, anyway.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner.”

He waves a hand. “Why would you? We don’t even have the same last name.”

“Honey was your mom’s name?”

He nods, writes one last thing down, and then slides his notebook away.

“So,” I say, tracing a flower in the place mat under my elbows. “You’ve only known Ainsley for two years. Does that mean you and Reese—”

“Hel-lo!” The front door slams and Reese is home.

Miles stands up and steps away from the chips and dip, like he doesn’t want to get caught mooching off Reese.

Reese comes into the kitchen and shoots me a grin when she sees me sitting at the table. Her grin abruptly freezes when she spots Miles standing in the middle of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets.

“Oh. Hi.”

It’s distinctly awkward.

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