Page 73 of The Nanny Goal

Nothing to talk about

That’s where she’s wrong. We still haveeverythingto talk about.

* * *

It takes two hours to get the formal discharge. After my mom shows the physiotherapist that she can manage a flight of stairs, we’re given the all clear, and I push her wheelchair out to the car while my dad carries Inessa.

At home, Emery meets us at the front door. She’s showered and done her hair in soft beachy waves, and she’s wearing a new outfit, black high-waisted pants with a belt and a soft, flowy white t-shirt.

She smiles politely to me, then more broadly at my mom. “Mrs. Artyomov, you look great.”

“Not true,” my mom says with a laugh. “Thank you.”

Emery takes her coat. “Let me get you settled on the couch. Do you want tea?”

I translate into Russian, even though it’s probably not necessary, since she’s already nodding.

By the time I get Inessa’s coat and shoes off, Emery’s already in the kitchen, pulling mugs down with her back to me.

Inessa runs into the living room, clambering up onto the couch next to her Baba.

“Let’s be gentle,” I caution.

My mom whispers something to Inessa and she immediately sits down quietly, leaning against her grandmother.

Which means I have ten seconds to go talk to her babysitter, maybe.

“Deda?” I say, and my dad waves his hand.

Yes, go, we’re fine.

Painfully aware that we aren’t alone, I walk into the kitchen.

Emery passes me one of the mugs without looking at me, her hand steady, her expression perfectly blank.

I take it. Our fingers don’t touch.

I hate that they don’t touch.

“Can I speak to you for a minute?”

“I’m making tea.”

“After that.”

“They like it strong.” I put the mug down and catch her wrist. Her pulse leaps against my fingertips. “Please.”

She pulls her arm free, but then nods.

I thought this house was huge when I bought it, but I’m suddenly very aware of how open the main floor is.

And if we disappear upstairs, that will draw attention.

Emery rolls her eyes and grabs my hand, pulling me into the walk-in pantry just off the kitchen.

I close the door behind me. “Okay. This will do.”

“I apologize for reacting the way I did when you told me. Obviously, I understand that your parents can’t be upstairs. Downstairs is quieter, and there’s a kitchenette down there. I’ll arrange to stay somewhere else while you are home and?—”

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