Page 16 of Sunshine
“Let me tell you a little about how this nannying works—or how itcanwork if you want it to,” I say.
His brows furrow slightly, but he nods. “Okay.”
“You pay me to supervise Izzy—to take her to school and pick her up at the end of the day. To drive her to her activities and make sure she eats regularly, drinks water, and goes to bed on time. What you don’t pay me for but what I do anyway—the best part of my job—is love her. She’s a great kid, and I enjoy hanging out with her. I can take her shopping for new shoes. I’ll give her mani-pedis on the weekend. She can talk to me about the things that light her up inside, as well as the things that are sometimes hard. Kids don’t always open up to their parents the way they might another adult they trust.”
Dylan’s eyelid twitches, and he glances at his half-empty plate.
“The other part of nannying is supportingyou. If there’s something going on with Izzy, I can help.”
I risk the delicious torture of touching him again, sliding my hand over his. Does he notice the way I slip my fingers around his wrist just to feel his pulse? It races like he’s anxious, and my stomach tightens with sympathy.
“You can trust me,” I tell him. “If you’re worried about something, you can talk to me. This part of our relationship is confidential. Unless I have your permission, I won’t talk about you or Izzy to anyone unless you want me to. I promise.”
Dylan’s gaze drifts over my face. The touch of his eyes may as well be his fingertips ghosting across my skin, and I barely hide a shiver.
“You’re different,” he says, eyes tracing first the slope of my nose, the line of my jaw, the fine, flyaway curls framing my face. “You used to be so wild. So free. So…”
“Crazy?”
I grin, and Dylan’s mouth lifts in a half smile. “I didn’t say that, but yeah. I’m not used to this side of you.”
“What side is that?”
“I don’t know. Serious isn’t the right word. Earnest, maybe?”
I screw up my nose. “Boring.”
Dylan shakes his head, and his crooked smile highlights his incredible cheekbones. “I didn’t say that either.”
It feels good to make him smile like I might already be making a difference. “Yeah, well, things change. People change. Ten years is a long time, and I’m not the same person I used to be. You’re different, too, you know. I mean, you’ve always been responsible—that’s still the same—but you weren’t always so sensible. You used to laugh. Drink. Fool around. Do stupid shit. You used to have fun.”
“Yeah.” His smile falters and turns introspective. “I used to be young too.”
“You used to have a lot less to worry about,” I correct him.
“Izzy didn’t want to go to school this morning.”
He says it quickly like he needs to get the words out before he changes his mind, and it takes me a moment to follow the change in subject.
“Every kid I’ve ever nannied had a bad morning or two. It’s normal for children to try to get out of school every once in a while.”
“No.” He shakes his head, brow furrowed and jaw firing as he grinds his molars. “Izzy loves school. It’s out of character, and she’s never done it before. And…”
My intuition tingles. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Dylan pulls his hand out from under mine so he can run it through his hair, but his fingers catch on the hair tie, and he tugs it out with frustration. But the hair falling across his face just irritates him more. He roughly ties it back into a knot, an action that’s so mundane yet so…so…suggestive.
“I don’t want to make a big deal out of this in case it’s nothing,’ he says. “And I really don’t want parenting advice because I know I’ve screwed something up, but…”
I wait, wondering if I need to be alarmed, and when he doesn’t continue, I prompt him. “But…what?”
He sighs like a pressure valve releasing. “The last couple of months, since her mother’s visit in November, Izzy can’t fall asleep by herself. I’ve always left the restaurant early enough to tuck her in at night, but on the rare occasion it’s been Charlie or Finn or Daisy reading her a bedtime story and turning out the light, it hasn’t been a problem. Now it is, and I don’t know why. She waits for me every night, no matter how late it gets, and she needs me to lay with her until she’s out.”
“It’s not all that unusual for kids to need extra comfort at night. It’s not your fault.”
“I’m her father,” Dylan says heatedly. “Her well-being is my responsibility.” His hands make it all the way through his hairthis time, and his eyes narrow with frustration. “I’ve made so many mistakes, and I keep making more.”
“Oh, Dylan.”
