Chloe
I had a new definition of March Madness.
No longer did I associate the words with the college basketball tournament. Now, they would forever be tied to how quickly that month flew by in the house of Will Perry.
Once he was over the flu, he was a man focused on one thing and one thing only: the playoffs. As the Ospreys raced toward their chance to fight for the Cup, he grew more and more intense. I knew how much he wanted this, how much the entire team wanted this. It was evident in every move they made.
I did my best to support him in every way I could.
Just like when he was down with the flu, I ensured things at home were covered. And if I was being honest with myself… I loved that I was helpful, that I could alleviate some of his stress and provide comfort, even if in a small way.
I ran the house like a manager, coordinating Chef Patel and the housekeepers while also playing my role as nanny. When spring break rolled around, I filled it with activities and adventures for Ava. Will joined us whenever he could, but it was a busy time for him, and I ensured Ava didn’t have a moment to feel sad at his absence because we had so much fun on the schedule.
But just because his focus was on the team didn’t mean Will wasn’t present with us. Every week we brainstormed until we thought of another way to introduce Ava to Jenny through something she loved to do. We had a movie marathon day during spring break with all her favorites. We took Ava to a taco truck Jenny loved one Saturday afternoon before a game. Will dug out photographs from Jenny’s life, and Ava and I crafted beautiful frames and fun ways to display them around the house.
I’d never found Will more attractive than when I witnessed him being a great dad even when he had a full plate.
And when Ava was sound asleep, all that attentiveness turned to me.
It never mattered how tired he was, how late a game ran, or how ragged he felt after two back-to-back away matches. It also never mattered how tired I was, how busy I was with teaching and handling things at the house.
Somehow, Will always found the energy to slide into the pool house, pin me against the nearest wall, and drive me mad with his touch.
And I apparently never ran out of energy when it came to him.
Some nights, he was slow in his perusal of me, teasing me and offering lessons in everything from foreplay to going multiple rounds. Other nights, he was quick and needy, stripping me and taking me hard like I was the key to draining all the stress coiled in his body.
My favorite nights were the ones where he stayed.
They came more often than they should, more often than I knew he wanted them to. I thought he’d pulled away from me a bit after the barbecue, but it had lasted only a couple of days before it felt like he couldn’t resist me.
God, how I loved that feeling.
He was always watching me, always waiting for the first moment he could get me alone. After hours of exploring each other, we’d lay in my bed or stand in my shower until the water ran cold, talking and laughing like we had nowhere to be in the morning.
Laughing.
I still couldn’t get over that breakthrough.
The first time the sound had come from his chest, it was as if it had been wrenched free against its will. He was still sick then, and the laugh had rattled his chest in-between coughs.
But now, that laugh came more freely, like once the first one was released, the others couldn’t wait to follow suit.
He laughed when I attempted to be sexy and alluring in a strip tease, only to trip on my pants and fall against my bedpost, yelping at my stubbed toe and bruised knee. He laughed as he kissed those injuries and I mewled beneath him, like it was the most adorable thing. He laughed when I lathered shampoo in my hair and styled it in a mohawk, rocking out on an air guitar and singing a terrible rendition of an old Fall Out Boy song.
When I made a joke, when Ava snorted milk out of her nose, when Chef poked at him for being grumpy… all the times he never laughed before, he laughed now.
I cherished each one like it was the first.
And with every laugh, with every night that passed between us, I found it harder and harder to see the line we’d drawn in the sand.
I willed my heart not to hold onto every smile he shared with me, not to latch onto every word he said on the nights he stayed late and opened himself to me. I tried not to read into it when he asked about my life, when he broke his own rules and seemed to hate the moment he had to leave when it finally did come.
Still, we hadn’t kissed on the mouth — that was one rule we had followed strictly.
And at this point, I was pretty sure it was the only thing saving me.
I couldn’t believe a whole month had passed by like this, in a routine I never thought I’d find with a man I never imagined a place with.
March Madness — that’s what it was.
I felt like a completely new woman as I walked the sidewalk that led to my mom and grandma’s house on the evening of my mother’s birthday. Things had been so busy with school and Ava and Will that I hadn’t seen them since before I moved into the pool house.
I wondered if they’d see what I felt, if they’d take one look at me and catalog all the ways I was different.
But before I could even open the front door, it flew open, and grandma tackled me in a hug that almost sent the cake I’d baked for mom flying out of my hands.
“There’s our girl!” She hugged me tight, inhaling my scent like I’d been pronounced dead at sea and then just showed up alive. “Oh, let me get a good look at you.”
She framed my arms in her hands, pulling back and shaking her head on a smile. I waited for her to narrow her gaze and sniff out the fact that I was getting my back blown out weekly by my boss, but before she could, my mom shooed her out of the way and took me in her own embrace.
“Sweetheart, my little Chloe Bear,” she said, and as much as we had our moments, just the sound of my mom’s voice like that turned me into a little girl again. I melted into her hug, heart full as I squeezed her back. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too, Mom,” I said. “Made your favorite,” I added, holding up the cake saver once she released me.
“Red velvet?!”
“With the buttercream icing.”
“You’re too good to me.”
She kissed my cheek, and then Grandma took the cake from my hands and Mom looped her arm through mine, guiding me inside.
The house my matriarchy shared was just right for them. Nestled into a vibrant senior community complete with a golf course, swimming pool, and club house that hosted Bingo weekly, their home was a three-bedroom, one-story ranch house with the classic Floridian flare. The outside was painted a bright turquoise blue, the barrel-tiled roof a rustic brick color, and palm trees framed the driveway and sidewalk up to the house.
Inside, both personalities shone through. My mother was a tidy woman, minimalistic without the urge to hold onto much. The house was always spotless, even if she wasn’t expecting me, and each piece of furniture was carefully selected and decorated with sparsity in mind. The entire house had the feel of a model home, like anyone could walk into it and live there for a month without feeling out of place.
My grandmother’s personality showed with the kitchen being the only messy space allowed in the house. She was always in there baking or cooking or rolling out bread dough, and she had so many gadgets from the TV buy-on-demand programs that there was hardly any counter space left.
There were only a dozen pictures on the walls, and all of them were of us. My school photos. Our girls’ trips. Holidays throughout the years.
None of them showed my father or grandfather.
“Let’s play Rummy now and eat cake later,” Grandma declared, putting the cake in the kitchen. She stopped long enough to pour us three glasses of lemonade before she led the way to the dining room table already set up with cards. “We have so much to catch up on.”
“Yes, like how your grandmother here has a new enemy at water aerobics.”
“Worse than Genevieve, if you can believe it,” Grandma mumbled.
“No one is worse than Genevieve,” Mom argued.
Grandma snapped her fingers as she took her seat. “Oh, you need to tell her about the Bingo drama, too.”
“Lord, that’ll take all afternoon. And besides, I want to hear about my daughter,” Mom said, beaming at me as Grandma started shuffling and dealing the cards. “It’s been so long. Too long. Tell us everything. How’s school?”
“How’s that sweet little girl you’re nannying for?” Grandma asked.
I waited a beat, arching a brow, because I knew one of them would ask what they really wanted to.
Grandma didn’t take her eyes off the cards, but her expression was prim. “And is that father of hers behaving himself?”
There it is.
“I was wondering how long it’d take you to spit it out,” I teased.
Grandma rolled a shoulder noncommittally, almost like she didn’t really care. But the way she peered over her glasses at me told me otherwise.
“Well? Is he?” Mom probed.
I sighed. “Just like I told you two when I first moved in, Mr. Perry is a professional. He is respectful of me in every way.”
Except when he has me on my knees gagging for him, but they didn’t need to know that.
“And this opportunity has been life changing.”
In more ways than you two will ever know or need to know.
“Life changing.” Grandma snorted. “How so?”
Wordlessly, I slipped one hand into the cross-body bag I’d sewed from scrap fabric and retrieved a check. I set it right in the middle of the table.
Mom snatched it before Grandma had the chance, and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “Chloe May,” she breathed. “What have you done?”
Grandma took the check from her hands and gasped. Her eyes snapped to me in a narrowed accusation. “What is this? Is he making you sell drugs?” Her face went ashen. “Oh, God. Are you… are you his whore?”
I choked on my lemonade, wiping my mouth with the back of my wrist as I gaped at her. “Grandma!”
I hoped she couldn’t see through the blush furiously shading my neck right now, because while it wasn’t what she thought, Will had called me his little whore the other night.
And I’d loved it so much I’d come on command.
“Well, how else do you explain this?!” She held up the check and waved it around like a piece of evidence.
A check for thirty-thousand dollars.
“He pays me five-thousand dollars a week,” I explained.
It was their turn to choke.
“What in the—”
“How?!”
“He’s the starting goalie for one of the best hockey teams in the league,” I reminded them, picking up my cards like it wasn’t a big deal.
Like I didn’t still have a panic attack every time that money hit my account on Friday.
“Like I said, he respects me — more than the school system ever will. He recognizes how difficult being a nanny is and he just happens to be in the position to pay me well. Very well.”
“Outrageously well,” Mom stated, plucking the check from Grandma in disbelief. “Why are you giving this to us?”
“Because I don’t need much,” I said quietly. “And you two have done so much for me, sacrificed your entire lives. I thought this could set you up for a while. I thought… maybe this could pay off my student loans.”
They grew silent, Mom’s eyes watering as she and Grandma exchanged a look.
It was a look of surprise, of wonder.
Of pride.
“I know how hard it was for you,” I said to Grandma. “To raise Mom on your own. And Mom, for you to raise me. And I know you sacrificed probably more than I even understand to put me through school. So… this is me paying you back.”
“Oh, Chloe,” Mom tried.
“Or you could do something fun,” I said before she could argue. “Take a cruise or go on one of those bus tours you keep talking about. Besides,” I added — and damn it if my brain didn’t realize my error before I’d even fully made it. “Will takes care of me, so I don’t need…”
Shit.
I let my voice fade, unable to even look at them as the uncomfortable silence fell over us.
“He takes care of you,” Mom repeated, incredulous.
Grandma snorted. “Here we go.”
“Chloe, please tell me you’re smarter than that,” Mom said, setting the check down and shoving it aside. “Please tell me you’ve learned better after all we—”
“Oh, relax, Mom. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that for the time being, he’s paying for rent at my old place and I don’t pay for the pool house. I may be moving in there permanently if all continues to go well.”
“Permanently?!” Grandma gasped.
Shit. This was not going well.
“I just mean that I love the job and he seems to be happy with my performance, so—”
“Oh, I’ll bet he is,” Mom muttered.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen. You two may not understand it, but this is something I want. It’s something I very much enjoy, okay? I get to teach, like I love to do, without worrying about making ends meet. I get to spend time with Ava, who is an incredible little girl I know you two will love and adore once you meet her. I get to spend time on my crafts, share my art with Ava. I have a friend in Arushi. Hell, between her and the team and the girls, I have more friends than I’ve ever had — ever. And I have a wonderful boss in Will Perry.”
And a wonderful stash of orgasms, too.
“Now, I know you have your opinions. I know you have your reasons for those opinions. But I am…” I vibrated with frustration. “Frankly, I’m sick and tired of you projecting your issues onto me. I’m tired of you not listening when I tell you that I am fine. No, that I’m fantastic.”
I was trembling now because never had I ever raised my voice to these women.
“I have money set aside for me and will continue doing so, but I wanted to do this for you because I love you,” I yelled. Realizing my voice was raised a bit too high, I cleared my throat, holding my chin up as I played my first card. “So take it or don’t take it, but don’t shame me for feeling happy for the first time in my life.”
The words shocked me as much as they did them, and Grandma shared a look with Mom before they both let out a long breath.
“It’s very kind, honey,” Mom said. “Thank you. We are… honestly, blown away by the gesture. We never expected you to pay us back. We took on those loans because we wanted to.” She paused. “And yes, we worry about you.”
“That will never change,” Grandma added.
“And I just… I don’t want you to fall into any kind of trap. Men like that, who are rich and talented and powerful, they’re even better at playing the game. They’re the kind who will make it seem like you’re so irresistible they can’t help themselves when it comes to you. They’ll make you feel different than the other girls,” Mom said.
Grandma tutted. “Only to then make you feel crazy when you start to fall for them, like they never gave you a reason to believe they felt anything more for you than that you were a good lay.”
Sandpaper coated my mouth at that.
It hit a little too close to home, and suddenly, I felt like a foolish little girl.
“But I’m sure he’s not like that,” Mom hurriedly added, reaching over to squeeze my wrist. “And I will say… this whole situation does seem becoming on you. You’re glowing. Really. You seem as happy as you say you are.”
“Have you noticed she hasn’t been doing her usual nervous tics?” Grandma added. She beamed at me. “You seem confident, my love. It’s a wonderful look.”
For a while, we just played our cards in silence. I felt my heart rate settling, though there was still a bit of defensiveness hanging on — along with that foolishness as I overanalyzed everything that had happened in the last few months.
I didn’t want them to be right about Will.
Then again, how could they be, when Will and I had made an agreement? I knew what I’d signed up for. I’d signed up more than willingly.
He may not have been able to give me a relationship, but he was giving me something I’d always wanted — experience. He was showing me how good it could feel, to be wanted and desired, to find a physical release with someone who made you feel comfortable and safe.
So then why did it hurt to think about a day coming where he called that out, where he confirmed that was all we were?
And how long could this last?
I knew I didn’t have any interest in dating anyone else, but did he?
The thought made my stomach bottom out. I couldn’t imagine the day he brought another woman home, holding her close to him and introducing her to Ava.
Would I just have to smile through it, be their nanny on family vacations?
Would I quit?
Could I quit, leaving Ava after how close we were now?
Tears pricked my eyes, and I sniffed them back, blinking into the present. “I think it’s time for cake,” I said on a forced smile, and before Mom or Grandma could notice anything, I shoved my chair back and hopped up, ducking into the kitchen for a brief reprieve.
By the time I was serving the cake, I had my shit together — if only temporarily. We lit candles and sang to Mom, finished our game of Rummy, and ended the evening with White Russians in the living room.
As the night winded down, I found myself looking at the pictures on the wall.
“What did you love about Grandpa?”
The question stopped Grandma’s rocking in her chair, and Mom’s hand hovered where she’d been lifting her glass to her lips. They shared a look.
“Before you hated him,” I clarified. “Before he left. You had to have loved something about him.”
“Well, I was a foolish woman,” Grandma grunted, staring at her half-full cup.
“Please,” I whispered. “I’d love to know something about him. Something good.”
I knew the request shocked them. For my entire life, I’d been content to only hear that men were useless, terrible things, and that I should steer clear of all of them. I’d accepted that my grandfather and father both had abandoned us, that they were good for nothing.
Maybe it was introducing Ava to her mother that had me feeling sentimental. Maybe it was the sick part of me that wanted to believe in love. Or maybe it was just that I didn’t know anything about the men I came from, but I felt a suddenly insistent urgency to know now.
Grandma sighed, rocking again and staring at her hands wrapped around her cup. “Your grandfather loved to paint.”
“He did?” I asked with wonder.
She nodded. “He was damn good at it, too. Some days he’d sit on our front porch when the weather was nice and paint all day. He’d start with a blank canvas and end with something so beautiful, it would take my breath away.”
I smiled at the imagery, wondering if he would paint the sunrise or sunset, the flowers blooming in the yard, or maybe a portrait of Grandma.
I wondered if that part of me that loved to create came from him.
“He never sold his paintings, either,” Grandma added, her voice a bit quieter. “Proud man that he was. He never found anything he did to be good enough. But any time someone in the community asked him to paint for them, he’d do it. For free. Happily. Even when we didn’t have two red pennies to rub together, he’d find a way to get supplies and make it happen.” A smile touched the corner of her lips. “He was good in that way.”
“I didn’t know that,” Mom said softly.
Grandma shrugged, sipping her White Russian, her job complete and her content to never talk about Grandpa again.
“What about Dad?” I asked Mom.
She blew out a loud snort. “That man wasn’t good for anything.”
Grandma agreed with a hum in her throat.
I leveled Mom with a look. “Come on. There had to be something, otherwise you wouldn’t have made a baby with him.” I gestured to myself. “And you did make a pretty awesome baby, if I do say so myself.”
That earned me a smirk, and then she let out a heavy, annoyed sigh. “Oh, I don’t know… he was charming, I suppose.”
“He loved to get you into trouble,” Grandma chimed in. “Always testing his luck.”
Mom softened at that, almost smiling. “He did. Maybe that was what I liked most about him. Where I was always playing it safe, he was looking for risks. He never liked being comfortable. He always said when you were comfortable, you stopped growing.”
My heart pinched. I didn’t know how much I really needed to hear about my father until Mom said those words.
“They may not have been all bad,” Mom said sharply, like she could see my daydreaming eyes. “But they left. They left, Chloe May. At the end of the day, that’s what speaks the loudest of their character. It doesn’t matter if Grandpa loved to paint or if your daddy loved adventure. They walked away from their partners, from their children.”
“Which just goes to show that it doesn’t matter how great you think a man is. They’re all selfish in the end. Only looking out for themselves.” Grandma shook her head, draining the last of her drink. Her eyes held mine when she finished. “Which means you better look out for you.”
