Be careful! I’m not coming up there if you get stuck.”
Sophie laughs from the top of the jungle gym. “Scaredy-cat.”
“You’ll change your tune when you want me to come help you down,” I call back from the bench beside the playground.
She’s been playing for nearly an hour now while I work on an assignment on my laptop, making sure to check on her every few seconds to ensure she’s still okay.
She’s going to hate hearing that we’ll need to go find lunch in a bit; I can already hear her groaning about not wanting to leave. I make a mental note to bring her back here soon. I think it’s good that she’s been able to play with some kids her age as well, knowing by her own admission that she is still struggling to find friends at her school.
When I’m done with my assignment, I take a second to check my emails, grimacing when I notice I have a new one from OnlyFans nudging me about some special they have going on. I still get them regularly, and I know I should unsubscribe from their mailing list, but I haven’t yet. It’s not like I have any plans to return, and I don’t even have any need to, with what Aiden is paying me now, but even a year after deactivating everything, I can’t bring myself to put it fully behind me. It’s silly, I know that; it isn’t like there’s even a possibility anymore for anyone to contact me through the site, but even knowing that, here I am still wistfully deleting emails that serve no purpose.
I pack my laptop away in my carrying case after I delete the message, because I do, as always—disregarding my brief dip into bad memories and walking over to the swing set where Sophie has migrated. She is a better object of my attention, anyway. I set my case nearby on the ground where I can see it, taking the empty swing beside Sophie and settling into it.
“Bet you can’t go as high as me,” she challenges.
“Oh, I have no doubts,” I tell her. “You seem way more advanced at swinging than me.”
She grins. “Yep.”
“Are you having fun?”
“Yes! Can we come back after school tomorrow?”
“I’d be willing to bet we could,” I tell her with a grin. “Maybe we can invite your dad?”
Her expression immediately falters. “He’ll be too busy.”
“Maybe not,” I try. “He can’t be this busy forever.”
“I guess,” she grumbles.
I straighten the swing, starting to sway backward and forward slightly. “Have you tried talking to your dad about this? I’m sure he’d want to know how you feel.”
“I don’t want to make him mad,” she admits quietly.
“I don’t think he’d get mad. Your dad doesn’t seem like the type to be mad about something like that. He loves you, you know?”
She gives me another slow nod. “I know. He’s just busy.”
Again there’s that pang in my chest as I’m thrust back into buried memories of putting myself to bed, and it takes everything I have not to let my feelings sway my conversation with Sophie, knowing my bias isn’t fair to her or Aiden. I know Aiden is different from my parents, that his absence is an oversight, not a conscious choice.
“Why don’t we go find some lunch,” I say, wanting to pull her out of her darkening mood. “You’ve gotta be hungry after all that climbing.”
“I am kinda hungry,” she admits.
“All right then.” I push up from the swing to retrieve my laptop case. “We still need to stop by the bookstore, too, but after that, we’d better get you some food. Have to protect my ankles and all.”
“I don’t bite,” she giggles.
I cluck my tongue. “Says you.”
“Can we have pizza?”
“We had pizza yesterday.”
“But I want it,” she pouts.
“Oh, well, when you put it that way,” I laugh.
Can I carry the pizza?”
“It’s too hot,” I tell her. “You’re in charge of the books.”
She’s picked out three books about talking pumpkins, friendly monsters, and a lost unicorn, respectively, guarding them like her life depends on it.
“I can do both.”
“I’ve got it. We’re almost home, anyway.”
“I can do it,” she argues.
“Yes, but then you might burn your hands, and you’ll use that as an excuse not to help with the dishes.”
“I will not!”
I feign suspicion. “I don’t know . . . sounds like a trap to me.”
“You’re so weird,” she huffs.
“Tell me something I don’t know, kid.”
“Okay, but when we get home I wanna—”
“Sophie?”
We both pause on the sidewalk, noticing a familiar figure lingering outside of the gate in front of the town house holding a paper sack. Aiden hadn’t said anything about Iris visiting today, so it throws me to see her here, and I momentarily falter before I paste on a smile. “Hey! What brings you by?”
“I don’t need a reason to check on my niece,” Iris says bluntly.
Yikes.
“Well, no,” I offer with an awkward laugh. “I guess not. I just thought if you let me know ahead of time next time, I’ll make sure to have her back here sooner.”
“Mm-hmm.” Iris gives Sophie a smile then. “Can’t you give your aunt a hug?”
Sophie grins back, bridging the gap between us to hug Iris.
“How was school this week, honey bear?”
Sophie shrugs. “It was okay.”
“Made any friends yet?”
“Not really,” Sophie sighs.
“You will,” Iris urges sweetly. She really is a different person with Sophie. “Don’t worry.”
“I brought you some books,” Iris says. She eyes the pile in Sophie’s arms. “I see someone beat me to it though.”
I am seriously not winning any brownie points with this woman.
“That’s okay,” Sophie says. “Cassie can read yours too.”
“I’ll just bet she can,” Iris answers.
Sophie takes the sack Iris is holding and grins at me, and I do my best to return it. I have no idea how to handle this strange situation I’ve gotten mixed up in, but I try to look unbothered for Sophie’s sake as I move toward her.
“Hey, Soph, do you mind taking the pizza inside? I’ll be right behind you.” I hesitate before handing her the box. “But be careful,” I warn. “It’s still hot.”
“Okay,” Sophie says brightly, taking the box from me and balancing her books on top before looking back at her aunt. “Bye, Aunt Iris.”
“Bye, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”
Neither of us says a word as Sophie moves through the gate, Iris waiting until she’s safely inside the house before she speaks again, her earlier sweet tone nowhere to be found.
“I notice her dad isn’t around again.”
“He’s working.”
Iris laughs, but it’s off. “He’s always working.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing that he’s providing for his kid.”
Iris’s eyebrows shoot up. “Why do you care? You’re just the nanny.” I watch as her expression turns curious. “Unless you’re more . . . invested somehow. What exactly is your role here?”
“I’m here to take care of Sophie,” I tell her. “Look, it feels like we got off on the wrong foot. I would never think of getting in the way of your relationship with Sophie. She needs all the love she can get, I imagine. I don’t want her to be confused.”
“I’m sure she’s already confused, given that her dad can’t be bothered to spend any real time with her.”
I cross my arms. “That’s not fair.”
“There are a lot of things about this situation that aren’t fair,” Iris answers bitterly.
“Listen, I think I get where you’re coming from, but you can’t—”
“You have no idea where I’m coming from,” she says, cutting me off. “You don’t know me. You barely know Sophie. I don’t know what Aiden has told you, but he isn’t—”
“Hey.”
She blinks in surprise, looking as shocked by my outburst as I am.
“Sorry,” I say more quietly. “But I can’t sit here and listen to you bad-mouth her dad to me. You’re right. I don’t know Sophie and Aiden that well yet, but I can tell he’s trying. I mean, he’s her dad. Don’t you think being with him is what’s best for her?”
Iris looks at me for a long moment, almost like she’s trying to figure me out. “I don’t need a lecture from you,” she says finally. “You don’t know anything. About any of this. Frankly, it’s none of your business.”
“Whether you like it or not, Sophie is my business,” I counter. “It’s my job to look after her, and you randomly dropping by makes it my business.”
“It’s funny,” Iris notes after a short time. “You’re much younger than any of the other nannies Sophie has had. Prettier too. I wonder why that is?”
What she’s saying makes my ears feel hot, but I decide I don’t have to validate her insinuations with a retort.
“I think you should leave,” I say as politely as I can manage. “Clearly, you’re upset.”
“Upset,” Iris chuckles dryly, still looking at me in a way that makes me feel icky. “Sure. Tell Aiden I’ll be in touch.”
I watch her stalk off toward what seems to be her car down the street, waiting until she’s tucked into the driver’s seat and pulling away before I head inside, cursing under my breath the entire way. I can’t fathom what I could have done in the two instances of meeting Iris to make her loathe me, but it’s clear that polite talk and pasted-on smiles aren’t going to put a dent in the chip she’s carrying on her shoulder. God, even when I make it inside, I’m still rattled, recognizing that Iris was on the money about one thing at least. I am more invested in this than I should be.
And I thought it was going to be weird talking to Aiden about Sophie’s feelings.
I made sure that I was fully dressed this time, bra and all. I had this whole speech planned out, when I decided to wait up for Aiden on the second floor after Sophie went to bed, thinking that I would have a quick chat about everything Sophie and I talked about and then tack on a careful mention at the end of my most recent encounter with Iris. Easy peasy.
I didn’t, however, intend to pass out on the couch long before he showed up.
I don’t know what time it is when I come to, woken by the sound of hissed cursing and something hitting the counter in the kitchen. I blink in the darkness as I lift my head sleepily, noticing a glow from the vent hood of the oven offering only a little light. The sight there immediately rouses me from my half-asleep state, going completely still when I notice that, for some reason—Aiden is standing shirtless in the kitchen.
It takes me a moment to piece together what I’m seeing: Aiden holding what I assume is his shirt in his hand as he uses it to mop up something from the counter. There’s a beer can sitting nearby that I can just make out, and I reason that he must have spilled some and decided his shirt was the best bet in cleaning it up. Not the most sensible course of action, I think, but who am I to judge? I know I should say something, that I should do something to make him aware of the fact that I’m frozen on his couch in the dark living room, but I’m finding it a lot more difficult than it should be.
Especially since I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from his shirtless state.
I can only see him from the chest up from this side of the counter, but what I can see suggests that all those trips to the gym have . . . really paid off. Aiden looks firm in all the right places, eliciting an urge to touch the hard lines and cut ridges in a way that is absolutely not appropriate for someone looking at their employer. Not that anyone would blame me, I think, if they were seeing what I’m seeing. Aiden says another filthy word in that same quiet voice that had woken me up, and everything about it makes me feel things that are also wholly inappropriate.
It isn’t fair that he is so good-looking. Paired with the fact that he’s sweet and funny and doing his best as a single dad . . . my ovaries are forming their own fan club at this point.
I know the longer I sit here the more awkward it will be when he finally notices me, and despite the urge to quietly watch him until he escapes upstairs, I know I waited up for him for a reason.
“Aiden?”
He startles, face whipping up to peer into the living room, shirt still clutched tightly in his hand. “Cassie?”
“Sorry,” I offer, pushing up from the couch to a sitting position. “I fell asleep on the couch.”
“Oh. That’s . . .” He looks down at himself as if remembering that he’s half-naked, standing up straighter and bringing what I assume is a wet shirt to his chest to offer some coverage. Not that it helps. “I spilled my drink.”
“Yeah. I can see that.”
“I should . . . get another shirt. Sorry if I woke you up.”
“Aiden, wait.”
He stops midstep, still behind the counter as he watches me slide off the couch. I pull my robe tighter as I approach the kitchen, thinking that at least one of us won’t be exposing ourselves to the other tonight.
“I actually wanted to talk to you,” I start. “That’s why I was waiting on the couch.”
I have no idea how I will be able to have this conversation when I can see Aiden’s nipples.
How the tables have turned, I think idly.
“What did you want to talk about?”
“It’s about Sophie.”
He immediately looks concerned. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”
“She’s fine, don’t worry,” I assure him. “It’s just . . . she’s been talking. About how much she misses you when you aren’t here.”
I see his expression fall immediately, almost making me regret my decision to talk to him. “Oh.”
“I don’t even know if it’s my place to say any of this, but it hurts my heart hearing how much she misses you.”
“No, I’m glad you told me, but I don’t know how I can change it right now. I told you that we had a lot of things going on at the restaurant.”
“I know,” I press. “But it really seems to be taking a toll on her.”
“Well. I did tell you that my job was a nightmare sometimes.”
“And I totally get that,” I say carefully. “But . . . lately, even on the weekend when she’s here all day, you’ve been shipping off to the restaurant practically right after breakfast. If not earlier.”
“It’s not something I can exactly control,” he says wearily. “It’s my job. I can’t just say, ‘Piss off,’ to it.”
“I’m not trying to lecture you,” I assure him. “I’m just worried about her. I can tell she doesn’t like to talk about her mother, but . . . when you’re not here, it makes Sophie miss her more.”
Aiden’s mouth parts, his expression softening. “She told you that?”
“She did,” I tell him gently.
Aiden scrubs his hand down his face. “She never talks about Rebecca. Never. I’m always trying to get her to open up, but she—” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “She always acts like she’s fine.”
“I think she worries about you,” I venture. “I think she’s afraid of how her feelings might make you feel.”
He laughs bitterly. “Even my own daughter thinks I’m not fit to take care of her.”
“Hey. No.” I take a step, having to stop myself from going to him. I know that’s not my place. “I don’t think that’s the case at all, Aiden. I just think that she is thinking of your feelings just as much as you’re thinking of hers.”
“I really am trying,” he says. “I know that Iris probably thinks I’m the shittiest dad in the world, and maybe I was there for a while, but . . . I’m trying.”
“I believe you,” I say, because I do. “I’m sure it’s harder to know what to do with someone like Sophie. She seems so tough.”
“She does,” he agrees. “Tougher than me.” He shakes his head. “This probably isn’t what you signed up for,” he says with a dry laugh. “I’m sure you didn’t take the job expecting to have to be a family therapist.”
“No, it’s okay. Really. I can just send you another bill,” I say, trying for some levity.
I’m rewarded with a choked laugh. “Right.”
“Listen, I feel terrible to be dumping all of this on you on top of everything else you’re dealing with, but I just . . .” I can see the exhaustion on Aiden’s face, and not only from a hard day. I can see an exhaustion that seems to weigh on him from the inside out. “I really care about you guys.” His eyes widen a fraction, and I avert my gaze. “I just know a little bit about how Sophie feels, and I don’t want her to ever grow up with regrets like I did. You, either, for that matter.”
“I don’t want that either,” he stresses. “And I’m sorry for bringing up bad feelings for you.”
“Oh, no, it’s—” My mouth drifts closed as memories crop up unbidden, and I feel something heavy in my chest. “You’re nothing like my parents, Aiden. I promise you.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Worse.” I huff out a bitter laugh. “My parents were shit. The entire time I was growing up, I had to hear about how the only reason they had to work so hard was because of me. Like I was some sort of burden. I mean, they didn’t want me from the start.”
Aiden’s brow knits in sympathy. “They didn’t?”
“I guess I should count myself lucky that they were so religious,” I snort. “Might not be here otherwise.”
“Cassie . . .” I can tell he’s struggling with what to say, and I can’t believe I’m actually blurting all of this out. Normally, I do my best to avoid talking about it at all. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I answer flippantly, ignoring the slight ache in my chest. “I’m only telling you this because my parents . . . they were never there. I put myself to bed, I made my own dinner, I spent weekends talking to a ridiculous number of imaginary friends just to simulate some sort of human contact. That kind of loneliness can really fuck a kid up.” I give him a pointed look then. “But you aren’t them. And I know that because I know what shitty parents who don’t care look like. I know you care, Aiden.”
Aiden is looking at me strangely, like he’s seeing more than I’d like him to. I feel mildly embarrassed for oversharing now, wishing that he’d say something to clear the air.
“I’m sorry,” Aiden says again after a beat. “I didn’t . . . I really appreciate you telling me this.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
“No, I . . . you’re right,” Aiden goes on. “Of course you’re right. I’m doing a shit job at this.”
“No, you’re not,” I argue. “You’re human, Aiden. It’s okay not to get it perfect. I just . . . thought you would want to know. How much Sophie misses you when you aren’t here.”
Aiden hangs his head, reaching to run his fingers through his hair in exasperation as he heaves out a sigh. “I know. I need to do better.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” I assure him. I chew at the inside of my lip, afraid of overstepping again. “I just want to see you guys happy, that’s all.”
The way Aiden is looking at me makes my skin warm, his expression softening into something that is far too heavy for what we are. It makes me feel dizzy.
“I’m sorry you had to pick at old wounds,” he says softly, breaking the spell slightly. “But I appreciate you sharing with me.”
“It’s fine,” I answer softly. “It’s all in the past now.”
“Still,” he says. I meet his eyes, and that same warmth threatens to do me in. “Thank you.”
I remember then that I had another reason for waiting for him, and it feels almost cruel to tack on another heavy load, one after the other. Best to rip it off like a bandage, I guess.
“Right. Also, I should tell you . . .” I make a face. “Iris came back today.”
“Of course she did.” He breathes in deep just to blow it out. “I’ve tried to convince her to check in with me first before she visits, but sometimes she likes to be difficult. I think she’d love to prove what a shit dad I am.”
“You’re not a shit dad,” I stress. “I told you, remember? All kids want is for you to try.”
He nods solemnly. “I can do better. I can. I’ll make sure to be here more. When I’m supposed to be off. I promise.”
“Sophie would love that.”
So would I, I don’t say.
I fidget, knowing I should say more but unsure of how to broach it. I rub at my arm idly as I frown down at my feet, clearing my throat.
“Anyway, I thought I should tell you that Iris made some . . . insinuations,” I go on. “About me.”
“What?” Aiden’s expression turns hard. “What did she say to you?”
“Well, she was bad-mouthing you, and I just wanted to defend you, and she might have . . . made the implication that I was . . . more involved than I should be.”
Aiden doesn’t immediately catch my drift. “What do you mean?”
“She . . .” God, he’s going to make me say it. “I think she might have been implying that there was something . . . inappropriate going on between us.”
“What?”
“I know, ridiculous, but . . . I didn’t want to somehow be something she uses against you, so I thought you should know.”
“Right.” I notice his throat bob with a swallow. “Ridiculous.”
Ouch. I mean, I know I just said it, but hearing him repeat it stings.
“I just thought you should know. I don’t know . . . maybe we could work out some sort of schedule for Iris to come by more. I’m sure Sophie would love to do more things with her aunt.”
“Maybe that’s a good idea,” Aiden muses. “I should talk to her.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” I offer.
He still looks a little out of sorts. “You defended me?”
I stop midturn in my attempt to quickly retreat. “I . . . Yes?”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t say anything I didn’t think was true.”
“Oh. I . . . appreciate that.”
“I told you,” I urge. “You are a good dad, Aiden. I promise.”
He nods slowly, looking at me with an expression I can’t read. I decide I should retreat like I planned, not wanting to make this encounter any more awkward than it already is.
“I’m starting to think we shouldn’t have discussions after eleven o’clock,” I say with a laugh.
His lips twitch. “They do seem to always go south, somehow.”
“Yeah. Well. I’d better get to bed.”
“Sure.” He starts to move from his side of the counter, and I have to try to not let my eyes drift south when I am reminded that he still isn’t wearing a shirt. “I’ll make some calls in the morning so I can be here for breakfast. And I’ll talk to Iris. I promise.”
“I definitely think Sophie will be—”
I forget everything I was about to say when Aiden rounds the corner, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he isn’t wearing a shirt. I can barely make it out in this light, but even having never seen it before, it makes my heart start to pound in my chest and my blood start to rush in my ears. I don’t know how long it takes Aiden to realize I’m staring at the place to the left of his navel, his skin darker there, more raised.
“Oh,” he laughs. “I know it looks weird. I’ve had it forever.”
“It’s . . . a heart.”
“Yeah, it looks like one, doesn’t it? I got it in culinary school.” He touches the scar absently. “I dropped hot oil on myself. Damned pan slipped right out of my hand. Not my best moment as a chef.”
I don’t think I’m actually breathing; everything he’s saying only makes my panic worse. It seems impossible, what I’m seeing, what I’m hearing—the coincidence of it all too much to comprehend. My eyes remain glued to the heart-shaped burn on his abdomen for longer than is appropriate, and I finally tear them away to meet Aiden’s increasingly confused-looking face.
“I’m tired,” I blurt out, my knees feeling oddly weak. “I’d better get to bed.”
“Oh . . . kay,” he says slowly, probably wondering why I’m acting weird all of a sudden.
I can’t help it. I need to get away.
“Good night, Aiden,” I say quickly as I turn away from him, his scar still fresh in my mind along with all the memories attached to it.
No, no, no, this can’t be happening.
If he thinks me half sprinting down the stairs is strange, he doesn’t come after me to ask about it. I don’t slow down until I’m safe in my room, my heart beating out of my chest as I cross to sit at the edge of my bed in a daze.
“I have a scar, too, you know.”
“Really? I bet it’s not as bad as mine.”
“It’s pretty big. And it looks like a heart, which means it doesn’t even look cool.”
“How did you get it?”
“I dropped hot oil on myself a few years ago while I was cooking. Not my best moment.”
It’s a story I’ve heard before. A story I’ve heard murmured through a computer mic from a man whose face I’ve never seen. A man who—until he suddenly disappeared from our message threads and subsequently my entire life—had almost made me believe he might have cared about me.
I’d known him as A. Isn’t it ridiculous that I could have misplaced his voice in only a year? That I didn’t make the connection until right now? I thought when he disappeared it was just a bad experience I was going to have to chalk up to naïveté, the consequences of allowing myself to grow too close to someone who was ultimately paying to watch me come. And here I am, a year later, still unable to unsubscribe from OnlyFans emails because of some silly fantasy that he will somehow try to find me after all this time, even though it would be nearly impossible even if he wanted to, given that I nuked my account in some pitiful post-breakup-like depressive episode. Which makes no sense, since we were never actually together. He was just some guy I deluded myself into thinking I knew better than I did. Just someone I had never seen and thought I never would see. Which I’m realizing now isn’t the case at all.
The truth is obvious, I think, as terrifying as that is. That my time online that I thought was well behind me has brought itself front and center in the form of the very reason that made me leave it in the first place. The man who had made me feel something and then made me feel utterly stupid for doing so when he logged off and never came back.
Because Aiden Reid, very-hot-but-very-off-limits boss, used to watch my channel.
He used to watch it a lot.
