Page 62 of Nine Week Nanny
I move toward the table where a bottle of wine sits in a small ice bucket. Without saying anything, I reach for her glass and refill it before twisting the top off my sparkling water.
She startles slightly, then smiles. "Oh, you're home."
"Yeah, got back about twenty minutes ago and went straight to the shower. It's been a day."
"Thanks for the topper. I could get used to this wine service with an ocean view."
"Complimentary with your stay." The joke tastes awkward in my mouth, but she laughs anyway.
I settle into the chair opposite her, the tightness in my shoulders easing. Something about taking care of her, even something as simple as refilling her glass, is satisfying in a way I don't fully understand.
"Busy day, huh?" she asks.
My jaw tightens involuntarily. Warren's words echo in my head:You maintain your composure.But I push them away. "Work. Meetings. The usual."
"Mmm. Detailed as always."
"How was Lennon's day?"
She takes a sip of wine, her face warming. "Good. He actually helped me make dinner. Cracked the eggs himself for the French toast. We've decided we will go to the grocery store togethertomorrow. I think he used to do that with his mom, so I think it will be good for him."
"You're good for him."
"He's good for me. I didn't realize it when I applied for this job, but doing this has been like an extension of my school. I guess it's been a blessing in disguise."
A small knot loosens in my chest. There are so many ways I could take that. "I'm glad it's mutually beneficial."
"He's really settling in well."
The cicadas fill our silence, their hum threaded with the sound of the surf. For a moment, we just exist in the same space, no expectations.
Except there are expectations. The kiss the other day that we’ve both ignored. The hotel room we’ve buried even deeper. Turns out repression is the one thing we’re both good at.
I trace my finger along the rim of my glass, watching her silhouette against the dimming sky. The question feels loaded, but I need to know more about her.
"So, your schooling. You mentioned it's like an extension? You just finished grad school, right?"
She freezes mid-sip, eyes widening slightly. We've been tiptoeing around that night since she arrived, pretending we're strangers who met for the first time at the interview.
"Yeah. Master’s in Pediatric Behavioral Therapy from Clemson University. Good memory." Her fingers tighten around the stem of her glass. "Finished just before moving here."
"I remember you mentioned a job when we..." I clear my throat. "At our initial meeting."
A small smile tugs at her lips. "You mean the night we're not talking about?"
"I'm just curious how someone with your credentials ended up at a nanny agency. Didn’t you say that night you moved here for a job?”
She sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "The clinic I was supposed to work for called three days after I moved and said they had to postpone my start date by three months due to budget freezes."
"That's shitty."
"Yeah. I'd already signed a lease with a massive termination fee. I couldn't afford to break it, couldn't afford to stay unemployed." She shrugs, the movement catching the last light. "I saw your posting on Elite's website when I was trying to find a temporary job."
"Their loss, our gain."
Her eyes meet mine, something soft and unguarded there. "If I hadn't been desperate, I wouldn't have applied for this job, nor would I have met Lennon. Sometimes the worst surprises lead to the best ones."
I nod, understanding exactly what she means. "Sometimes they do."
