Page 19 of Sweet Thing

“People hire strangers to look after their children all the time.” Lars inhaled deeply and arced a tired and troubled gaze over the kitchen and its inhabitants, skimming Mabel with barely a glance. “I’ll get out of your way.”

You would think he’d announced the coming of the end times. My parents shot up. Well, Dad was already standing but he seemed to grow five inches.

“You’re heading … home?” My confused mother not-so-subtly placed her body between Lars and the bassinet.

“Alone?” Dad’s shocked utterance contained a healthy infusion offuck, no.

Sensing the drama, Eggsbee jumped to his feet, barked once, and wagged his tail.

Even Tilly got in on the act. “Duckman, have some bread!”

Lars frowned at Tilly, caught my eye—more of theus v. themcommunication—then returned his attention to the guardians of Mabel’s galaxy.

“Gotta do it sometime. For now, the wheels are in motion. The paternity test, the lawyer, the nanny hunt, trying to get ahold of Vicki.” He sounded especially irritated by that last to-do. “I can’t stay with you guys forever.”

I doubted he got a wink of sleep. My parents had set him up in the guest room, with the crib beside the bed. Mom told me Lars had been awake the entire night and even fed his daughter once, under her knowing direction. When Tilly was seven months old, she was already sleeping through, but each baby was different.

My heart keened in sympathy. I was on my parents’ side here. He should stay longer because once he left, he was truly on his own.

“Yeah, but do you have to leave right this minute? We only just got Mabel down.”

This ploy by master strategist Theo Kershaw was enough to throw Lars off his game. Uncertainty crossed his brow.

“I don’t want to take advantage.” Less sure now.

“You are not taking advantage.” Pushing for home, my mom squeezed his arm. “You didn’t get any sleep, Lars, so we’re ordering you to lie down and take a nap. Just an hour or so, because you’ll be no good to that kid if you don’t get some rest.”

“You’ve already helped out so much?—”

“And we can do it for a few more hours. Theo, talk to him.”

My dad placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead, get some shuteye.”

Lars exhaled. “Okay. I’ll set my alarm for an hour and then …” He trailed off, his gaze drifting to his daughter. Stories were written in that look, ones with unknowable endings.

Once he left, my mom and dad shared one of those familiar knowing glances I’d been privy to my entire life. My parents were #relationshipgoals, the Great Love Story I envied and craved for myself. After a one-night stand resulted in a surprise pregnancy, my father had pursued my mom relentlessly and charmed her prickly Black Cat with his pure Golden Retriever energy. Five kids later, they were still madly in love.

Eager to escape what I suspected came next—my parents making out like teenagers—I headed upstairs and ran into Lars coming out of the bathroom.

“Could I have a word?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“I overheard some of the conversation you were having with your parents about taking on nanny duty.”

I tried to recall if I’d said anything negative. “I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m not being a team player?—”

He held up a hand. “Stop right there. I just want you to know I would never expect that. Your parents are out of order to even ask it of you. So please don’t think I’d want you to step up like that.”

“You wouldn’t?”

He rubbed his mouth, something he did when he was thinking about how to phrase his next words. I wished I didn’t know that.

“Well, no. You’re a young girl, with your whole life ahead of you. Cleaning up after my mistakes is not your responsibility.”

Not sure I liked being described as a “young girl,” as if I wasn’t mature enough to be in the running for this nanny gig. Or anything else.

Setting that aside, I asked, “Is that what you think? That Mabel is a mistake?”

---