Page 16 of Protecting My Nanny

Nicole and I both pause, waiting for the comment's aftermath. But he just keeps on smiling and stuffing fries in his mouth. There is no silence, no distant thoughts, no tears.

"Hey, Nicole. Next weekend, should we take Uncle Shane to Vito's Pizzeria?"

"You sure he's ready? We can't show him all our spots," Nicole jokes.

Jaime pauses, mimicking deep thought. "Yeah, I think it's okay," he finally says.

We share a look and enjoy the rest of the ride home.

Nicole and I share a cup of coffee after reading Jaime his bedtime story. Though I can't do it every night, stories are becoming a routine when I am home. However, Nicole and I spending time alone afterward is something new.

"You're sure I can't compensate you for today?" I ask. "I mean, don't take it wrong; we enjoy your company, and you are always welcome to come. I just don't want you to feel... I don't know..." I search for the right words.

"Shane, you've already said that, and I've already told you I'm fine. Today was... nice. I enjoyed it."

"Okay," I say. However, I still intend to give her a bonus down the line.

I nod, trying to keep the conversation going, but I realize I don't know what to talk about. I know so little about her, really. She's good with Jaime; she's intelligent and capable. Yet, an entire part of her life is a mystery to me. I've been so focused on Jaime and my own shortcomings as his guardian that I've barely stopped to consider Nicole's own situation.

I decide to test the waters a little. "You know, I think today was one of the best days I've had in a long time. But I have to admit,I feel like I'm playing catch-up with you and Jaime. You two are like a well-oiled machine."

She laughs softly. "We've had some time to get used to each other."

"Yeah, I can see that. But I barely know you, Nicole. I mean, I know a lot about Jaime, but I hardly know anything about you." I try to keep my tone light, casual, but I can tell by the way she shifts slightly in her seat that I've touched on something sensitive.

Nicole gives me a sideways glance, her smile fading just a little. "There's not much to know, really," she says quietly. "I'm just a girl from Italy who ended up here, trying to make a new life."

Her answer feels rehearsed—it reminds me of her interview. This was expected; everyone holds things back in an interview, but the first time, I wondered just how much she was holding back. She's always been guarded when it comes to her past, but it's only now, as I sit here looking at her, that I realize how little I've really asked. I've been so wrapped up in my own problems, I haven't noticed hers.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," I say gently, not wanting to push her. "But if you ever do want to talk... I'm here."

Nicole gives me a small, grateful smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Thanks, Shane. That means a lot."

"So, Annette is really something," I say, changing the subject.

Nicole laughs. "She is really the best. She prides herself on being my 'crazy American sidekick,' as she calls it."

I smile.

"She's so free with her words and thinking. And gorgeous—you wouldn't even know she was older than me. And don't ever tell her I said that," Nicole adds, laughing as the words leave her mouth.

"You're pretty gorgeous yourself, I'd say," I add, not even realizing what I've said.

"Yes, yes, and you are handsome. We all know it," she jokes.

I try to bring it back with a bit of humor. "You know, you're not making this easy for me. I was trying to flirt there, and you're being all mysterious. How's a guy supposed to keep up?"

She chuckles, a genuine laugh this time, and for a moment, I've lightened the mood. But then, just as quickly, her laughter fades, and she goes quiet. Her gaze drops to her cup, and she wraps her hands around it as if drawing warmth from the porcelain.

I'm confused. One minute she's engaged, teasing, even, and the next, she's closed off. It's like watching a door swing shut; I don't know what to make of it.

For the first time, I'm really considering the possibility that Nicole's running from something in her past—something she's not ready to share. The look on her face is one of anxiety, and it makes me worry for her. I want to ask, to dig deeper, but I don't want to push her too hard—not tonight.

Before I can say anything more, Nicole stands up, setting her cup down on the coffee table. "I should probably get to bed," she says, her voice a little too brisk. "We've got that early morning visit to Jaime's doctor tomorrow."

I'm a little disappointed, feeling like I've pushed her too much, or maybe not enough. I can't quite tell. But I nod, standing up as well. "Yeah, of course. We should both get some rest."

We just stand there for a moment, and neither of us is moving to leave. There's a tension in the air, something unspoken that lingers between us. It feels like neither of us is ready to say goodnight, but the circumstances push us toward it anyway.

---