I finish putting my stuff away and head back upstairs after the pancake debacle, finding Aiden sitting in the living room and reading a newspaper, with Sophie nowhere to be found. I assume she’s up in the room I’m not allowed in. He’s changed his shirt to a clean one (still black, but a different shade of black, if that’s possible, so I guess points to him), but I am not complaining about the monochromatic tone of his gray sweats with the way they fit him. His hair is less styled than it was the night I met him, mussed and curling at his temples like he simply toweled it dry after showering off all the batter from earlier. It makes him look even younger than he normally does.
He looks up from the paper when he notices me awkwardly lingering at the top of the stairs, folding the pages and giving me a little smile. “All settled?”
“Yeah.” I cross my arms, feeling strange. The idea that I actually live here now is sort of crashing down on me all at once. “The room is great.”
“I’m glad. Make sure to tell me if you need anything. I can take care of whatever you need.”
Oh boy.
In lieu of answering, I move to the armchair across from the couch he’s sitting on, pulling my legs up to tuck them beneath me. I’m actually grateful for his casual attire, making me feel better about my leggings and long tee. I mean, I know he didn’t mention a uniform or anything, but still.
But damn if those sweatpants aren’t distracting.
I nod toward the paper he’s still perusing. “Anything interesting in there?”
“Not really,” he says with a shrug. “I mainly get them for the crosswords.”
Why is that cute?
“Did you know that someone good at crosswords is called a cruciverbalist?”
He lowers the paper to cock an eyebrow at me. “How on earth do you know that?”
“I read it on a Snapple lid,” I say. “It’s where I get eighty percent of my knowledge from.”
“You must drink a lot of Snapple.”
“Oh, tons. I bet I bleed peach tea at this point.”
Aiden smiles, shaking his head. “Any other interesting facts I should know?”
“Humans are slightly taller in the morning than at night.”
His brow wrinkles. “That can’t be true.”
“It totally is.”
“I don’t know about that,” he laughs.
“I bet you’ll measure yourself now to check though.”
“Hmm.” He considers this with a guilty expression. “I plead the Fifth.”
He’s still smiling as he turns another page, and I tap my fingers against my thigh. “So . . . no cooking tonight?”
“I’ll have to go in later. Before the dinner service.” He cuts his eyes at me. “I wanted to make sure to be here when you arrived though.”
“I appreciate it.”
There’s a bit of an awkward silence then. The product of two near strangers now cohabitating, I’m sure.
“So . . .” I shift a bit in the chair so I can look somewhere other than Aiden’s face, which is also pretty distracting. “Do we think Sophie will put dirt in my bed tonight, or will she let me get a false sense of security before she goes full Home Alone on me?”
Aiden laughs again, and I’m reminded of how nice of a sound it is. “Maybe you check the tops of the doors before you open them, just to be safe.”
“At least I get my own bathroom,” I point out. “Maybe I can keep a better eye on my shampoo so she doesn’t put Nair in it.”
“The worst she might do is leave her towels on the floor,” Aiden grouses, all dad-like. “You buy the girl a towel rack, and she drops it right next to it. Don’t even get me started on her shoes on the bedroom floor.”
“No towels on my bathroom floor,” I say seriously. “Got it.”
“Oh.” He actually looks mildly embarrassed. “No. It’s your room. Don’t listen to me, I’m just . . .”
“Neat freak?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he mumbles. “I like things in their place.”
It’s weirdly cute that he’s trying to pretend he isn’t a total control freak when it’s written all over his face.
“Gotcha.” I keep my expression even. “So this is probably a bad time to tell you about my collective network of ant farms then?” Aiden looks horrified, and I can’t help but burst into laughter. “Kidding.”
“Hilarious.”
More silence. I hate silence. It always makes me feel anxious. I decide to change the subject. “It must be a huge adjustment for Sophie. This year.”
“It’s been tough for sure.” He lays the paper down beside him on the couch. “They were close. I mean, I’m sure you know what it’s like, the whole mother-daughter bonding thing.”
I try to smile, but it’s forced. “Not really.”
“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry. Did she . . . ?”
“She’s alive, don’t worry.” I laugh bitterly. “My parents weren’t ever the nurturing type. I haven’t spoken to them in . . . a long time.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “That’s terrible.”
“It is what it is. I guess you can’t fault them for being terrible parents when they never wanted to be parents in the first place.”
“I mean, you can,” he argues. “As a mostly subpar parent myself, I’m the expert on the subject.”
I grin. “I don’t think you’re a subpar parent. I mean. You’re here. You’re looking out for her. That’s already half the battle.”
“Right.” Aiden’s eyes suddenly gain a faraway look. “I’m trying.”
“That’s all a kid wants, to be honest. They just want you to try your best.”
Aiden’s mouth does this thing, not quite a smile but sort of, and his eyes flick to meet mine, the soft green and brown hard to look away from. “I appreciate that.”
“So, we should go over what you need from me a little more,” I say, changing the subject again.
Aiden’s eyebrows raise. “What I need from you?”
Oh shit. Did that sound weird? It didn’t sound weird in my head. “I know the basics here, and you gave me your schedule and Sophie’s allergies, but does she have any after-school clubs? Any soccer practices I need to know about? What about an approved list of emergency numbers of relatives or something like that? I don’t want to let in a weirdo pretending to be her uncle or something.”
“Oh.” Aiden watches as I untuck my legs, following the way I let my feet fall to the floor, his gaze thoughtful. “She hasn’t joined any clubs yet. It’s a new school year, after all, and she’s still settling. No weird uncles that I know of. My parents live across country, so we only really see them around holidays. Rebecca has a sister, Iris, so she might be around from time to time to see Sophie. I can leave you the number to the restaurant, and of course we should exchange numbers.”
“Numbers?”
“It’s not really practical to keep emailing each other forever,” he points out. “Since we’re living together and all.”
He just had to remind me.
I’m living with this gorgeous man. Not that there is any reason to be so flustered by the reminder, since it’s all contractual. It’s not like it matters, anyway. It’s completely irrelevant how nice Aiden is to look at, since I’m the nanny, and he is absolutely, positively off-limits. I might almost laugh at this entire line of thought; Aiden is successful and good-looking and way out of my league. He’s probably bringing home dates on the regular.
Oh God. I hadn’t thought of that. I sincerely hope it’s not something I have to find out anytime soon.
“Right,” I manage. “Numbers. Give me your phone, and I’ll send myself a text.”
Aiden lifts his hips from the couch to dig in his pocket for his cell phone, and I don’t think that I need to elaborate on why this move on a hot guy in gray sweats has me averting my eyes. He hands me his phone, and I immediately notice his wallpaper of him and a smiling Sophie at what looks to be a park. The wind is ruffling their hair, and Sophie’s smile is wide and bright and slightly snaggletoothed here, one of her incisors still growing in.
“This is a nice picture,” I note as I pull up his texts.
“It was a good day.” Aiden smiles fondly. “It wasn’t very long after, um . . . after Rebecca.”
“Sorry,” I say, afraid I’ve touched on a sore spot. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no. Seriously. It’s fine. It was the first time I can remember Sophie smiling like that. After it happened. I like to remember it.”
“I get it,” I answer quietly. “It’s a great photo.”
“Thank you.”
I shoot myself a text, feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, then I hand Aiden’s back to him. “All done. I’ll be sure to text you if I burn the house down.”
“I appreciate that,” Aiden laughs.
I shrug. “I figure it’s common courtesy.”
“Of course.”
He opens his mouth to say more as footsteps come thudding down the stairs, a flash of chestnut hair in my peripheral as Sophie lands at the bottom.
“Dad, the batteries in my remote are low,” she huffs. “Do we have any more?”
Aiden closes his mouth, whatever he’d been about to say dying on his tongue as he stands from the couch to walk toward the kitchen. “They’re in the drawer by the sink,” he tells her. “Let me get them for you.”
I turn my head to notice Sophie eyeing me. “Are you going to make lunch?”
“That depends,” I say smoothly. “Are you going to help me?”
“Isn’t it your job to feed me?”
I press my lips together, nodding as if I’m considering. “It might be. But you know I hold all the power when it comes to deciding if you’re getting borscht or pizza, right?”
“What is borscht?”
“It’s beet soup, essentially,” Aiden tosses over his shoulder, still searching for batteries. “It’s very good. Kind of sour though. It’s good with smetana.”
“Ew. She can’t feed me that, can she?”
Aiden turns to lean against the counter, holding the batteries he’s found and shrugging as he gives Sophie an aloof look. “She’s the boss when I’m not here.”
Sophie turns to narrow her eyes, frowning at me as I give her my sweetest grin. “Fine,” she relents. “I’ll help. But no beets.”
She takes the batteries her dad is offering as she trudges back up the stairs, and Aiden smiles at me from the kitchen, looking amused. “You’re going to give her a run for her money, aren’t you?”
“That’s the plan,” I assure him. “Until you guys get rid of me.”
Aiden’s smile hitches wider. “You might be the only person in this city who has a real shot at handling my daughter,” he says. “I don’t think I can let you leave, sorry.”
I know he’s joking, but it still does something funny to my insides.
“So,” I say, pushing out of the armchair and clapping my hands together as I raise my voice for dramatic effect. “Where do you keep the beets in this place?”
“No beets!” Sophie’s voice calls from up the stairs.
Aiden covers his mouth with his hand to hide his laugh.
The rest of my stuff comes Sunday afternoon after Aiden has already left for work, and I spend some time putting it away, giving the enigmatic little girl who is determined not to get too close to me a moment to breathe before I go upstairs and start trying to make her like me. My attempts so far have been met with a lukewarm reception at best.
“I think she might hate me,” I tell Wanda, using my shoulder to hold the phone to my ear as I hang up my jeans. “But I’m pretty sure it’s more about principle than me as a person, so I’m not taking it personally.”
“It’s all those preteen hormones,” Wanda muses.
I wrinkle my nose. “She’s only nine.”
“Well, maybe it’s a personal choice to be difficult then, I don’t know.”
“I’m still a stranger,” I laugh. “I think we can cut her some slack. Besides, I’m totally going to win her over. Just wait.”
“I’ll bet,” Wanda chuckles. “How is the house? Is there a basement? Has he asked you to wear a diaper yet?”
“The house is amazing. My room might be bigger than my entire apartment. No evidence of a basement though. Also, it’s more of a padded underwear situation, and he asked nicely, so . . .”
“One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack with your nonsense, and who’ll be laughing then?”
“Well, not you, presumably.”
“Oh, ha ha. So what do you think of the family?”
“Sophie is cute as a button. Stubborn as hell though. I can tell she’s going to be a tough nut to crack.”
“And the dad?”
“Aiden is . . .” I still with my hand on a hanger, considering how best to describe him. “He’s really nice. You can tell he loves Sophie, and he seems determined to make sure I’m comfortable here. Sounds like they’ve had some bad luck in the nanny department lately.”
“They’re probably all in the basement.”
“Well, at least I’ll have company when he throws me down there.”
“You laugh now, but don’t come crying to me when he brings out the zip ties.”
Wow that shouldn’t sound halfway appealing. I tell myself it’s a natural reaction to someone who looks like he does, and that it will get better the more I get used to him. Surely.
I definitely can’t tell Wanda that Aiden is hot. She’ll be completely insufferable about it, I’m sure.
“They’re perfectly nice people, and this is a perfectly nice house, and I am perfectly safe. I promise.”
“Yeah, well. You make sure you keep that tracker thing going on your phone.”
“We’re sharing locations. I don’t have to turn it on.”
“Well, as long as I can find you when he throws you in the basement.”
“Yes, I love you too.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“How was bingo?”
“I won a succulent.”
“But you have a black thumb.”
She scoffs. “It’s a cactus! You don’t even have to do anything with it.”
“No, you definitely have to water it.”
“No, you don’t. They make their own water.”
I shake my head, thinking about that poor plant that is absolutely going to die.
“Just throw some water on it every once in a while,” I insist. “Humor me.”
“Oh, whatever.”
“I’d better let you go,” I tell her. “I’m done unpacking, so it’s time to go and try to tame the cute little beast.”
“The trick is to not show any fear.”
I smile into the receiver. “Noted.”
“Call me tomorrow.”
“I will, I will.”
We say our goodbyes before I stow my phone in my pocket, taking one last glance around the room and nodding in satisfaction. I still can’t get over how big it is. I could practically open a dance studio on either side of the bed. I figure I’ve afforded Sophie about as much space as I can manage at this point, and I give myself a pep talk before I leave my bedroom in an attempt to coax her out of her room.
It’s my first time going upstairs, since last night she claimed she had homework and sequestered herself in her room. I knock on her bedroom door, careful not to step inside even after she answers, peeking my head around the door instead.
“Hey. More homework?”
She pauses her Switch to frown up at me. “I finished it.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“Did you need something?”
I know she’s trying to be a brat, but she’s so cute it still sort of makes me want to smile. “Oh, nothing much. I have this huge bowl of popcorn downstairs and all three Shrek movies on Blu-ray.”
Her nose wrinkles. “What’s Shrek?”
“You’ve never seen Shrek?”
“No.”
“Sophie. It’s a cultural phenomenon. An epic love story. A comic masterpiece. I can’t in good conscience allow you to continue through life without having seen it.”
“It sounds weird.”
I push her door open a tad wider, leaning against the frame. “There are princesses in it.”
“I’m too old for princesses,” she says stoically.
“Well, when we’re done we can visit the retirement home.”
Her lips purse. “You’re not gonna leave me alone, are you.”
“Not a chance, doll.” I beam.
She looks annoyed the entire walk down the stairs, and then begrudging, when she settles onto the couch in the living room, but I notice that she doesn’t hesitate to grab a fistful of popcorn, even if she munches on it with a little more aggression than needed.
“Why is it called Shrek?”
I push play as the DreamWorks logo glides across the screen. “Because that’s his name.”
“That’s a weird name.”
“Well, he’s an ogre. So.”
“Ew. I thought you said this was about princesses?”
“No, I said it had princesses.”
She makes a face as the opening scene starts. “What is this weird song?”
“Oh my God, Sophie. I will not let you sit there and slander Smash Mouth.”
“Is that old people’s music?”
I pull my popcorn bowl away from her extended hand. “Ma’am, do you want to lose your popcorn privileges?”
“Fine,” she huffs. “I guess it’s okay.”
Her barrage of questions continues up until Donkey’s proclamations about staying up late and swapping stories, finally laughing when Shrek kicks him out of the house and makes him pout. I give her a look, and she immediately tries to mask her glee. “I guess it’s kind of funny.”
“Just wait until you meet Lord Farquaad,” I say.
She looks like she’d rather pull out her hair than admit she’s enjoying the movie, and I notice her eyeing our dwindling popcorn.
I grab the bowl. “Want me to make some more? We’ve got all night. We can totally have a marathon.”
I can see the wheels turning in her head as her eyes dart from the popcorn bowl to the TV screen, her obvious desire to keep watching warring with her determination to remain disinterested in the “enemy” that is her new nanny.
“I guess that sounds cool,” she finally concedes.
I do a silent victory dance behind her back as I go to the kitchen for more popcorn.
I don’t know when I fell asleep; Sophie passed out sometime after dinner near the end of the second movie, and I distinctly remember starting the third, but when I’m awoken to the feel of a warm hand on my shoulder and a warmer mass at my side, my eyes blink open to mostly darkness. Sophie has wormed her way against me as she sighs softly with sleep, and when my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room lit only by the soft glow of the menu screen of the third Shrek movie, I see a familiar face looming over me as Aiden’s hand gently rouses me awake.
“Sorry,” he says quietly. “Didn’t think you’d wanna spend all night out here.”
I sit up straighter, careful not to disturb Sophie. “What time is it?”
“Just after nine,” he tells me. “I guess you guys didn’t finish your movie?”
I stifle a yawn. “I have been giving your daughter an important education on film classics.”
“Clearly,” Aiden laughs as he eyes the menu screen still playing on the TV.
“How was work?”
“A surprisingly slow night,” he says, coming around the other side of Sophie’s sleeping form to sit beside her. “It’s not often I get home this early.” He reaches to brush Sophie’s hair away from her forehead, smiling. “Seems like she’s warmed up to you a little bit.”
“Don’t be fooled,” I tell him quietly. “It’s like taming a feral cat. When she wakes up again, she’ll be her cute little hissing self.”
“I appreciate your valiant effort.” Aiden’s eyes me curiously. “Are you thinking of disappearing in the middle of the night yet?”
“Oh, my go-bag is currently hidden under the stairs,” I say seriously. “I’m waiting for an opening.”
Even when he looks exhausted, his smile makes my heart stutter. “I guess I should get better locks.”
“Have I told you yet about my friend’s basement theory?”
He grimaces. “Do I want to know?”
“That depends. Where do you stand on kidnapping jokes?”
“I think this is a good time to make it clear that I don’t actually have a basement.”
“My friend would say that’s what you want me to think,” I answer grimly.
His answering laugh quickly morphs into a yawn, and he reaches to rub his eyes. “I’m going to pass out mid-conversation if I’m not careful.”
“Oh, right. Let me—”
I throw the blanket I’d grabbed from the back of the armchair from my shoulders with the intention of untangling myself from Sophie, so Aiden can put her to bed, only noticing after it’s gone that the neckline of my oversized T-shirt has slipped over my shoulder to bare a good bit of skin and bra strap and—judging by the cool air—even a bit of cleavage. Great. Aiden coughs as he averts his eyes while I adjust it, and I’m grateful for the darkness of the room as I pull everything back into place.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
Aiden sneaks a peek to see if it’s safe, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I should get her to bed. School tomorrow and all.”
“Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. She was getting into the movies.”
“It’s fine,” he assures me. “I’m happy you got her out of her room.”
“Thanks for waking me up,” I tell him, rubbing my neck. “I’d have been sore in the morning if I slept out here all night.”
“Yeah,” he shoots back, gently scooping up his sleeping daughter. “I figured it would be better to put you to bed.”
He stills when he’s standing again with Sophie in his arms, looking surprised at himself. “I mean . . . I meant send you to bed.”
“Right,” I answer dryly, my face flushing slightly. “Yeah. I know what you meant.”
“Sorry, I’m tired.”
“Of course.” I rub my arm awkwardly. “I’m sure.”
He lingers there for a moment, Sophie still tucked away in his arms, looking at me like he isn’t sure what to say now. I decide to save us both.
“Anyway . . .” I put on a smile. “See you in the morning?”
“Sure. Good night, Cassie.”
Now, Aiden has said my name before, during the interview, if nothing else, but something about hearing it in a dark room, with only the soft light of the television touching his black slacks and his black T-shirt that he must wear under his chef coat, feels different somehow. It gives me a weird sense of déjà vu that I can’t explain. Like I’ve heard it before. I must be really tired.
“Good night, Aiden,” I say back softly, not sure where my voice went.
Thankfully, as dark as it is, I know he won’t see the blush creeping up my neck as I move quickly from the den toward the stairs, hearing his quiet footsteps shuffling in the other direction as he carries Sophie to the next floor. I peek behind me to catch Aiden’s back as he goes before I head down to my room, catching sight of him leaning to press a kiss to Sophie’s sleeping forehead and feeling something tug at my heart for reasons I can’t explain.
He really is trying, I think.
I smile all the way down the stairs.
