Page 15 of The Nanny is Off Limits

“I can…stay a little longer,” I tell them. “Just in case Margot has to go before you’re back.”

His eyes meet mine and I can see the relief in his eyes from just that one sentence. Like he’s not used to things ever being that easy. “Let’s talk for a minute before I leave,” he says waving me toward the door.

“Do you want to come get ice cream?” Isla grabs my hand and squeezes.

I turn toward her and her sister.“No, I think I better stay here with your brother. Kids that are grounded don’t get ice cream,” I tell her as I follow their dad out the door. I see he’s changed since I got here, making me think that he probably just received a call requiring him to leave. He’s not in a suit, but he’s definitely in business casual with black slacks and a gray polo.

“I’m sorry. I was not expecting this and I’d ask River to stay but…”

“It’s absolutely not a problem. I’ll be here in two days anyway,” I tell him as we make our way down the stairs and toward his office. The house isn’t obscenely large but just big enough that I may get lost the first few times I go exploring.

He closes the door behind me and instantly hands me a key and a folder of his own. “Just codes for things and details about the kids. Isla has a nut allergy and while I think she’s growing out of it, she does get a stomach ache or a little itchy and uncomfortable if she comes into contact with it.”

“Does she have an EpiPen?”

“She used to but we’ve never needed it. Her mother was very good about…all of that.” I shift nervously in my seat and I wonder if he’s confused by my response because he continues speaking. “Margot and SJ are both really good about paying attention as well and even Isla knows certain things to stay away from or to ask if she’s not sure. You won’t have to—”

“No, that’s not it. My last family had a child with a severe nut allergy to the point that I carried one of his EpiPens. I just…you said their mother was good and that Margot and SJ are but you didn’t say you are.” I blink at him. “And now I’m thinking you’re going to be offended that I asked.”

He clears his throat. “We’ve had two instances since she moved in. Both times it was just me and her, so she’s not thinking to ask because I’m her dad and why would I not know what I’m feeding her? I wasn’t even thinking.” He swallows and I can see the guilt all over his face. I feel like shit for bringing it up and making him feel bad for something I know he beats himself up for. “I have antihistamines and she’s very good about telling you if something doesn’t feel right.”

“I see.” I nod. “Any other allergies?” I ask while I flip through the papers inside. Most of the information is things like their favorite foods and snacks, information on their after-school activities, bedtimes for SJ and Isla, and how long SJ can be on any kind of gaming console per day.

“No.”

“Mr. Kincaid—”

“Rowan,” he corrects for the second time.

“I think I’ll stick to Mr. Kincaid if you’re going to keep calling me Elianna,” I tell him with a small smile. Not to mention, I’ve never called any of the parents by their first names. It kept a line of professionalism I didn’t want to cross.

“Fine. You were saying?”

“I think you’re doing a great job. I don’t know exactly what it’s like to be a single parent, but I was raised by one for a while and I know it’s tough, and sometimes you feel like you aren’t doing anything right. You don’t ever have a second to breathe or I don’t know…have one hour to do something for yourself. I hope having me here helps you breathe a little easier.” I give him a small smile. “Even when you think I’m giving you a hard time.”

The smile reaches his eyes and while I’m happy to see him at ease, I wish the sight didn’t make my heart flutter. “I appreciate that,” he says.

I nod before standing up and then I’m out the door.

Hours later, Margot has left for the football game and their father still hasn’t returned from the office much to Isla’s annoyance. While the ice cream she got with Margot lessened the burn slightly, I could see the disappointment all over her face when it was time for her to go to bed and her father still wasn’t home. He FaceTimed her to say goodnight and apologized, promising they could do something the next day. She was more than thrilled that I was willing to read her two books before she went to sleep.

It’s now nearing eight-thirty and Sawyer is sitting in the kitchen while I put the leftovers from dinner in Tupperware dishes. I learned thatnoneof the Kincaid children are picky when it comes to food and I was shocked that all three of them loved the four-cheese rigatoni I made. Margot even managed to eat a few bites before she left and threatened SJ not to eat it all before she got home.

For the other kids I took care of, I was used to making an emergency grilled cheese or chicken tenders if one of them wasn’t into what I made. I didn’t believe in being a short-order cook, but I don’t believe in sending kids to bed hungry if they honestly try what I make and genuinely don’t like it.

“So, what’s your story?” Sawyer asks as he takes a bite of ice cream. While I didn’t let him go with the girls to get ice cream earlier, Margot conveniently didn’t finish the majority of hers and offered it to her brother. I can’t deny that it makes me smile how sweet the three of them are with each other. I’ve nannied for more than a few families whose kids were at the age where they wouldn’t spit on the other if they were on fire, so it’s refreshing to see their dynamic.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I wipe the counters down.

“Where are you from? Did you go to college? Siblings? You got a boyfriend?”

I shoot him a look at his invasive last question. “Are you always so nosy?”

“Yes.” He nods as he taps his spoon against the ceramic bowl like he’s waiting for my answer.

“I’m from Ohio. I moved here for college and I went to the University of Maryland where I studied psychology. I’m in graduate school now to be a child psychologist. I have two younger sisters. One still lives in Ohio with her husband and daughter and my youngest sister is in her first year at Yale,” I tell him.

“Yale?” His eyes light up. “So, she’s really smart? Does she like it?”

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