Page 44 of A Convenient Secret
I look at Zach, who is staring at me with eyes full of hope and curiosity. And trust. So much fucking trust.
“Zach, if your mom could be with you, she would, I promise.” That’s not a lie. I’m just not ready to burden him with the reason why she can’t. “But her presence is absolutely unattached to you having a nanny. Even if your mother was around, you would have one.”
He frowns, contemplating. “Really?”
“Don’t your classmates have nannies?”
“They do.”
“I’m sure many of them have both parents.”
He nods.
“See. Your nanny is there to help us with a crucial task, the most important task, to care for you when I can’t be around.”
We sit in silence, Zach processing. I glance at the other half of our small group. Lily is squatting and tying Zoya’s shoe while my daughter keeps talking.
To an outsider, she may look like her mother. My kids would be lucky to have a mom like Lily.
“Why can’t Mommy be with us?” Zach’s words interrupt my unhelpful line of thought.
Give it to my son to investigate all the details. Seriously, like father like son is too literal with him.
Zoya springs from the bench and starts running.
I sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“Zoya.” Zach launches forward and rushes to his sister who whimpers on the ground. When did she fall?
I eat the distance between us, Lily already examining Zoya’s knee. I squat beside the three of them.
Zoya is sniffling while Zach keeps patting her shoulder. Her knee is scratched, but it’s nothing serious.
“Daddy,” she sobs, at least partially for effect if I know my drama-queen daughter.
Lily pulls a water bottle from the kid’s backpack and pours a little on the scratch. “Now it’s clean, and will heal soon.”
“I don’t think I can walk,” Zoya acts up.
“Could you walk for lunch if it was pizza?” I ask.
The excitement in her eyes betrays her, but she stifles it. “I think so,” she whimpers.
“Oh, come on, Zoya.” Zach grips her hand and pulls her up. “I’ll help you walk.” He pulls her forward, rolling his eyes.
“Not so fast,” Zoya protests, but it doesn’t take long before she skips forward with her brother in the direction of our occasional-treat restaurant two blocks from the park.
I’m relieved Zach’s questions about his mother and the knee scratch are forgotten, at least for the time being.
But now I’m left beside Lily. The hair on my neck stands on end, her scent immediately sparking an electrical current through my body.
We walk in silence, both of us watching the kids in front of us. The tension lingers. The silence is loaded with my stupid need. And the unanswered questions about last night.
I wish we had met under different circumstances. But that’s a useless line of thinking, so I quash it, and with the gentleman I am—not—I pick up my pace.
Unfortunately, Lily keeps up regardless, so the torture walk continues.
“How is your arm?” She breaks the silence, slightly out of breath.
