Page 51 of The One I Want
“I thought Wes would be bringing them?”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say with mock sincerity. “He had plans.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let me guess. The four musketeers at it again? That stunt they pulled today was just tacky.”
I laugh. “I saw pictures. They really did go all out, didn’t they? I’m glad they incorporated the streamers. Those were my idea.”
It’s at that moment she figures out exactly what I’m doing.
Game on, lady.
“So, Wes tells me you're the nanny.”
“I am,” I say. “Though I’m more than that. I’ve been helping out in any way he needs.”
She gives me another once over. “I’m sure you have been. Wes does have a thing for bigger girls.”
Oh hell no. She didn’t just say that. Do I have curves? Yes. Do I embrace them? Hell yeah I do. I was told as a size eight in high school that I was too big to be on the pageant circuit. I politely told them to fuck off as I went on to win or come in runner-up in every pageant I was in.
I see Emerson looking on in the background. I give her a little head tilt to go in the other room with Hank and Magnolia, which she picks up on. She doesn’t need to hear this.
I know I’m supposed to go high when someone goes low. But that doesn’t apply in the war of Southern women's words. We’re passive. We’re petty. But no one will leave not knowing where we stand.
And we’ll do it with a fucking smile and perfect lipstick.
“He does. Probably part of the reason he had no problem signing the papers. You look great, by the way. That bone broth diet is really paying off. I hear skinny bitch is back in style these days. Oh, and I meant to ask you! I saw the fake Hermes bag you were carrying on Instagram the other day. Where did you get it? I do love a good dupe.”
The redness in her face clearly says that I got her. So I do what anyone would do right now—I slap on a smile.
“Bye, kids! See you tomorrow!”
All three of them run back into the room to give me a hug goodbye. I don’t look up to see Cara’s face, but I know she has to be fuming right now.
“Okay. I’ll be back to get y’all in the morning. Or your dad. Or maybe both of us.”
I’ve never seen a look of such hatred as I’m seeing right now. She clearly was never on the pageant circuit.
“Emerson?” Cara stops her as the kids head back toward the other part of the suite. “What are you wearing?”
Emerson looks down, which she also uses as a time to take in a breath, before looking up at her mom. “It’s a T-shirt and jeans. I like it.”
That’s my girl. Confident. Standing her ground.
“Why are you dressing like that? You look sloppy and like a boy.”
And with that one remark, I see Emerson’s confidence deflate. It’s also at this exact moment I learn what the term “Don’t fuck with mama bear” is all about.
“Because she wants to,” I say. I don’t bother telling Emerson to leave because this girl needs to know that people in her life have her back. I also just had a flashback to the first time I tried to wear something my mother didn’t approve of. I didn’t have a Betsy to stick up for me back then. Like hell I’m going to let this woman put Emerson into more therapy than she’s already causing.
“This is none of your concern. You’re the nanny.”
“It is my concern, because I’m here and you’re not,” I begin, my anger starting to boil over. “Last week when Hank fell off his bike, I was the one to clean him up. When Magnolia needs a bedtime story and Wes is at a game, I’m the one who reads to her. And when this girl here—this amazing, talented, smart as hell girl—asks me for help because she wants to feel more comfortable in her clothes and body, I’m going to bend over backward to make sure she knows she’s loved and to support her. Have you been doing that and I’ve missed it? Oh wait, you haven’t. So, Cara, it is my concern. Don’t be pissed at the situation you created.”
And because no tell-off is complete without a dramatic exit, I turn on my heel and leave the hotel room. I’m halfway down the hall when I hear Emerson calling after me. When I turn around, she’s barreling into me, hugging me harder than she ever has before.
“Thank you.”
I hug her back, the adrenaline starting to crash around me. “Anytime, Em. And I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have had to see that.”
