Page 39 of The Nanny Goal

Managed to trick her into having a nap by pretending to sleep on her floor

I have done that

Now I’m cleaning up the mess we made in your kitchen

She attaches a photo. Flour is everywhere.

I stare at the picture. Someone else might see mess, but I see Inessa having a really good time flinging flour this way and that way. In the background, her highchair is covered in smooshed blueberries and pancake crumbs, too.

Alexei

I’m sorry I missed pancakes

Emery

Batter is in the fridge and lasts for a few days

Might not be back for bedtime

I’ll do my best

I flip back to my messages with her brother. I start to type out a few things.Your sister is amazing.How do I thank her for stepping in to help? What does she like?

But they all feel too revealing.

And they are things I either need to say to her directly, or figure out for myself.

* * *

It’s midnight by the time I finally get home. I let myself in quietly. The text updates from Emery stopped around nine, and just in case she’s passed out on Inessa’s bedroom floor, I don’t risk messaging her again.

The house is pretty dark, but the light in the stairwell leading upstairs is on—so that’s where I expect them to be.

But when I go into the kitchen to grab something to eat, a low voice from the family room says, “Don’t turn on the light, okay?”

I turn around and dimly make out Emery’s face peeking over the back of the couch. Bright sunshine in the darkest hours of the night.

She stretches, looking rumbled and warm and so fucking sexy it makes my throat close tight.

“Bedtime wasn’t as easy as nap time,” she admits softly when she joins me in the kitchen. “Inessa is passed out on the couch, and she took me down with her.”

“That’s okay,” I manage to say. “Thank you for spending all day with her. I know it’s a lot.”

“I just did what any EBUB would do. Slapped on a jersey I’ve never worn before and tried my best.”

It takes my brain a minute to catch up. EBUG. Emergency backup goalie.

“Back up babysitter,” she mutters when I don’t respond.

“I get it.”

“It was funnier in my head earlier, when I was Googling how to put a toddler down for a nap.”

“It’s funny.”

“Then you should laugh,” she says lightly.

I sigh and lift my hand, reaching out to touch her. It’s instinctive. Instinctively stupid.

---