Page 38 of Imperfect Arrangement
It reminds me of my first night in this house, sitting in this exact spot, wrapped in the quiet hush that only settles after all the staff have left. There’s something mesmerizing about this place at night. The endless sky above feels like a canvas where I can fling all my jumbled thoughts—good, bad, and everything in between—without fear of judgment. It’s as though the stars themselves are willing to absorb all the noise in my head and transform it into background music.
Willow looks like I felt that first night—lost, yet somehow a little found at the same time.
Before I can announce my presence, Captain Lick’s ears perk up. He lets out a low, friendly whoof. Willow’s head turns, and her gaze locks on to mine. She stands quickly, looking a bit caught off guard.
“Grandpa Will said I could wait for you here. I hope that’s okay,” she says, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
I take a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill my lungs. “It’s fine.”
And just like that, it hits me—I’ve completely messed up this process with Willow.
With every other nanny, I’ve had a meticulous four-step protocol: conduct a formal interview, introduce them to Quill, walk them through her routine, and give them a thorough tour of the house, including all off-limit areas.
But with Willow all my carefully laid plans went up in flames. She’s like a whirlwind that swept in and rearranged everything I thought was set in stone. Then again, she’s nothing like any nanny—or anyone—I’ve ever met before.
“You wanted to talk?” Willow’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been standing there like an idiot.
I nod and step closer, the wooden deck creaking softly beneath me as I take a seat across from her. Somehow, we always end up this way—on opposite sides of everything.
“Quill fell asleep?” she asks, her voice soft.
I nod again.
“Okay, so, before we go into other details, there’s something I wanted to go over with you,” she says, sitting up a bit straighter as she grabs her phone. Her tone shifts, all business now. “I made a list of activities Quill and I could do together. I wanted to get your thoughts.” She glances down at her phone, her face lighting up. “Daisy told me Quill loves baking, so I’m learning how to bake cookies. I’m not great in the kitchen, but I’m trying.”
She grins, flashing her phone where her notes are open. “I was also thinking of taking her around town, showing her my favorite spots. And, of course, since your daughter, the little bookworm, loves books, I want to take her to Cherrywood Library. I just found out that they organize weekly kids’ night, where the volunteers do book readings and dress up as cute characters. I can’t believe I didn’t know about it sooner. Anyway…”
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and if I were anyone else, I’d probably be charmed by the way she’s throwing herself into this. But instead, a familiar knot tightens in my chest. She’s doing everything I do for Quill, and then some more. Why? She’s not Quill’s mother. She’s just here to help.
Logically, I know Willow is just being…Willow. She commits herself wholeheartedly into everything she does, whether it’s running her B&B or caring for my daughter.
But there’s a part of me—a small, insecure part—that can’t shake the feeling that she’s encroaching on my territory and taking over something that’s mine. My daughter. My life’s purpose. My happiness.
And maybe, deep down, she’s here for revenge—for the inconvenience I caused her in the past because of my connection with her cousin.
“What are you doing?” The words snap out before I can stop them.
Willow freezes, her gaze lifting from her phone. “What? Did I miss something?”
“You’re her nanny, not her parent. You don’t get to make decisions. You wait for instructions.”
Her face pales, and I instantly hate myself for it. But I’m unstoppable now. “Are you trying to make me feel like I’m not enough for my own daughter?”
She stares at me like I punched her in the gut. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she manages, “Are you kidding me? You think I’m here to…what, undermine you?” Her eyes are wide, searching my face like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. “I’m just trying not to screw up a job I have zero experience in. A job where you’ve already made it clear there’s a sword hanging over my head.” Her voice cracks, and I feel about two inches tall.
The guilt hits me like a sucker punch, but she’s far from done.
“I left my home, my business, and I’m staying in the house of the man I hate most in this town because I care about his daughter and what’s at stake. Do you have any idea how hard it was to cram a hundred fifty hours of theHow to Be a Nanny 101podcast into my brain in less than two days? You think I’m overstepping? Well, damn you, Raymond. Take it up with the ladies who run that podcast, because I’m doing exactly what they said.”
“Willow—” I try to interrupt, but she’s on a roll now.
“No, you don’t get to talk. I told you I’ve never taken care of a kid before. Butyouinsisted I do this. And like an idiot, I thought maybe this could work. But I should’ve known better than to trust a man who’s already proven he doesn’t care about anything but himself.”
Her face is flushed, and my heart feels like it’s being hit with a sledgehammer.
What the hell have I done?
In all my worry over how close she was getting to my daughter, I didn’t stop to see how much she genuinely cares. If anyone here needs a lesson, it’s me, in basic decency and how to trust.
