Page 44 of Mistletoe & Magic
“Best ones yet,” Pete agrees, his voice hoarse from coughing, but warm.
Junie shoves half of one into her mouth and declares, “Ivy wins!”
Even I can’t help the small smile tugging at my mouth as I take another bite. Sweet, perfect. Just like her.
For a while, it’s easy to pretend everything’s fine. The lights glow, the cookies disappear, Junie’s laughter rings out across the square. But when I glance at Pete, leaning heavier on Ma than usual, I feel the ache come back.
Time is short. I know it. And tonight, with Ivy’s arm brushing mine and her cookies warming the cold from the inside out, I promise myself that we’ll get through this. Together.
Chapter 13
Ivy
The water is cooling, and I sink lower into Remy’s big freestanding soaker tub until it laps at my collarbone, soaking up every minute of this bath. His primary bathroom feels too big, too quiet, the steam curling against the frosted window.
I try to let it soothe me, but his words echo anyway.
She’s just the nanny.
I hadn’t meant to overhear Remy and his mom’s conversation after we took photos. Donna had him cornered after the photo shoot, holding up that picture like evidence, and I’d overheard from the farm stand. It shouldn’t matter, and I shouldn’t still be so bothered by his words. They were the truth. He’s right, and that’s all I am. Temporary, convenient, filling a gap until he doesn’t need me anymore. But the words sting sharper than I expect. I tell myself not to feel it, not to care, but it sits heavy in my chest, anyway.
I drain the tub, wrap myself in one of his thick towels, and pad across the tile. My hair drips down my shoulders, leaving damp streaks on the cotton.
A gentle knock rattles the bedroom door. “Hey,” Remy’svoice calls, low, steady. Before I think better of it, I crack the door. Just a peek.
He’s there in the hallway, coat half-zipped, beanie pulled low. His eyes widen when he sees me, his gaze flicking down to where the towel knots tight at my chest, then snapping back up. Not crude, not lingering, but enough to make the air stretch thin between us. And a reminder that Remy is a man. And he is so freaking good looking.
Not that I forgot. I think about this daily.
“Sorry,” I whisper, my voice catching. “I just got out of the bath.”
He clears his throat, softer now. “Did you see we’re supposed to get dumped on tonight? Huge snowstorm coming. I’m going to check on things before it hits.”
For a moment, we just stand there. The faint rush of the wind outside. The dripping of water from my hair. His eyes on me, softer than I’ve ever seen them.
“Okay,” I manage. My fingers clutch the edge of the towel tighter.
He nods, lingering a heartbeat too long, then steps back. “I’ll be back soon if you need anything. Tate’s meeting me over at the barn.”
When he turns, I press the door closed, leaning against it with my heart pounding. His words still echo in my head, but the look he just gave me whispers something different.
I mightjustbe the nanny. But he looks at me like he wants me to be more. And I feel the tension between us. It can’t be just me, right? He’s different now.
I towel off quickly and tug on my cozy flannel pajamas before slipping down the hall. The house feels hushed and quiet, which seems to come just before a storm. Fitting. I push open Junie’s door and peek in.
She’s a little heap of blankets, her hair spilling across the pillow in curls, cheeks flushed pink with sleep. Lola lies curled at her feet, tail thumping once against the floral purple comforter when she notices me. I step in and smooth a hand over Junie’s hair. She sighs, clutching her narwhal tighter. Lola gives a soft huff, then drops her head back down, satisfied the world is safe, and she’s at home with her new girl to watch over. I stroke her soft ears and press a kiss to her head, as well. I’m glad Junie has this. Lola is a good comfort.
My chest tightens. They already feel stitched into me in ways I hadn’t planned, in ways I know I shouldn’t let myself think about wanting more.
I am just the nanny.
Back in the kitchen, I fill the kettle and wait until it whistles. I pour steaming water over a homemade mix of chamomile Rowan made me; the scent rises gentle and floral. The mug warms my palms as I curl into the armchair by the big front window.
Outside, the first flakes of snow drift down, catching in the light above the porch. Soft and slow at first, then thicker, heavier snow that promises the world will look different by morning. And that makes me think about how unrecognizable my life is right now from just a month ago.
I sip the tea and watch it fall; the heat sinking through me while the storm builds.
How am I supposed to get through this season without falling deeper for them? Even my dog fell head over heels for his kid. I’m second best to her now, and I’m okay with that. Junie needed her. I’m falling hard. For Junie, with her excitement and bigger laugh, who calls me her family without hesitation. For Remy, who holds everything tight and pretends he doesn’t feel, but then fills my glass before I ask, or lets me sleep on his shoulder without moving. He’s everyone’s rock and solid, safeplace. It makes me wonder what his safe place is? Who is there for him?
