Page 27 of The Housemaid
I wipe my eyes self-consciously with the back of my hand. “I’m fine. There’s just a lot to do for this PTA meeting.”
“Aw, that’s not worth crying over.” His brow crinkles. “These PTA women are never going to be satisfied no matter what you do. They’re all awful.”
That doesnotmake me feel any better.
“Look, maybe I have a…” He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled tissue. “I can’t believe I have a tissue in my pocket, but here.”
I manage a smile as I accept the tissue. As I dab my nose, I catch a whiff of Andrew’s aftershave.
“Now,” he says, “what can I do to help?”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“You’re crying.” He props one of his feet up on the dirty chair. “Seriously, I’m not completely useless. Just tell me what you need me to do.” When I hesitate, he adds, “Look, we both want to make Nina happy, right? This is how you make her happy. She’s not going to be happy if I let you screw this up.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “It would be incredibly helpful if you could pick up the hors d’oeuvres.”
“Done.”
It feels like a giant weight has been lifted from my shoulders. It was going to take me twenty minutes to get to the store to pick up the hors d’oeuvres and twenty minutes to get back. That would’ve left me only fifteen minutes to clean this filthy patio furniture. Could you imagine that Nina sat in one of these chairs in one of her white outfits?
“Thank you,” I say. “I really, really appreciate it. Really.”
He grins at me. “Really?”
“Really, really.”
Cecelia bursts into the backyard that moment, wearing a light pink dress with white trim. Like her mother, she doesn’t have so much as a hair out of place. “Daddy,” she says.
He turns his gaze on Cecelia. “What’s up, Cece?”
“The computer isn’t working,” she says. “I can’t do my homework. Can you fix it?”
“I absolutely can.” He rests a hand on her shoulder. “But first we are going on a little road trip and it’s going to be super fun.”
She looks at him dubiously.
He ignores her skepticism. “Go put on your shoes.”
It would have taken me half the day to convince Cecelia to put on her shoes, but she obediently goes back into the house to do what he says. Cecelia is nice enough, as long as I’m not in charge of her.
“You’re good with her,” I comment.
“Thanks.”
“She looks a lot like you.”
Andrew shakes his head. “Not really. She looks like Nina.”
“She does,” I insist. “She has Nina’s coloring and hair, but she has your nose.”
He toys with the hem of his polo shirt. “Cecelia isn’t my biological daughter. So any resemblance between the two of us is, you know, coincidental.”
Wow, I can’t stop putting my foot in my mouth. “Oh. I didn’t realize…”
“It’s not a big deal.” His brown eyes are trained on the back door, waiting for Cecelia to return. “I met Nina when Cecelia was a baby, so I’m the only father she’s ever known. I think of her as my daughter. It’s the same difference.”
“Of course.” My opinion of Andrew Winchester goes up a few notches. Not only did he not go for some kind of supermodel, but he married a woman who already had a child and raised that child as his own. “Like I said, you’re good with her.”
