The Nanny

I’m just saying, it could be a long con,” Wanda tuts on the other end of the phone that’s pressed against my ear.

I laugh, shaking my head as I flip Sophie’s grilled cheese. “I’ve been here for over a week. I think it’s safe to say they aren’t plotting to kidnap me.”

“You never know.” I hear the clanging of pots on the other end of the line. “I can’t find my damned saucepan.”

“It should be in the cabinet to the right of the oven.”

“I already looked th—oh.”

“Told you.”

“How in the hell do you know where my stuff is better than I do?”

“Because you have the organizational skills of a pack rat with amnesia.”

Wanda scoffs indignantly. “Such a bully.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What about the kid? Is she a terror?”

I glance past the kitchen into the living room, where Sophie is lounging on the couch playing her video games, her little brow furrowed in concentration and her tongue poking past her teeth. It makes me smile.

“She’s great,” I tell Wanda quietly. “I mean, she is sort of a terror, but I kind of like it.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Wanda snorts. “I’m glad she’s real. You know, I half worried this Aiden fellow might have been one of your booby-cam stalkers.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Right. I don’t think someone like him needs to visit sites like that.”

“Oh? Someone like him?”

“I mean . . . I’m sure he could see the real thing for free anytime he wants.” I lower my voice. “He doesn’t look like the type who would have any trouble bringing women home.”

“Cassie Evans. Are you telling me your new boss is handsome?”

I pause, cursing myself. She wasn’t supposed to know that part. I try to keep my voice casual, like I haven’t given it much thought. “I wouldn’t say that he’s unattractive.”

“Oh, Lord. He is, isn’t he? How hot are we talking?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t paid much attention.”

“You know I know when you’re lying, right?”

“Fine,” I huff with defeat. I glance at Sophie as I half whisper, “He’s insanely hot, okay?”

“Whew, boy. You should send me a picture.”

“I am absolutely not going to do that. Also, would you even be able to figure out how to open it if I’m not there?”

“Such a bully,” she mutters again. “You be careful, you hear? Handsome guys are trouble.”

“I’ll be sure to guard my virtue carefully,” I say seriously. “But trust me, there’s no chance it will be an issue. He’s way out of my league on my best day.”

“Oh, shut up. You know you’re a looker.”

“Yeah, yeah. What about you? Met anyone new yet?”

I can hear the sound of running water as Wanda works on her own dinner. “No one worth mentioning,” she snorts. “Damned Fred’s been calling though. Can’t seem to get the hint, that one.”

“Maybe he just finds you irresistible.”

“Well, no one is arguing that,” she says matter-of-factly. “But I’m not that lonely yet. Even if you did leave me high and dry over here.”

“Aw, is this your way of telling me you miss me?”

She clucks her tongue. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I actually want to come visit soon, if that’s okay. I’d love for you to meet Sophie. Aiden already cleared it, if you’re up for it.”

“Well of course I want to meet the little hellion. I have to make sure she’s making you earn that big fat salary they lured you away from me with.”

I flip the grilled cheese, laughing again. “Of course.”

“Bring her over for dinner, and I’ll make my meatballs.”

“You know the way to my heart.”

“I tried to talk you out of leaving me, but you had to go . . .”

“I know, I know. I’ll pick a day soon and let you know. Sophie’s dinner is almost done. I better get her fed before she starts biting my ankles.”

“I heard that,” Sophie’s voice calls across the room.

“Well, all right,” Wanda says. “I’ll let you go. Just make sure you come by. I sort of miss your face.”

“I love you too,” I chuckle.

“See you soon.”

“Right.”

Sophie has wandered into the kitchen by the time I hang up the phone, peeking at the grilled cheese I’m sliding onto a plate. “Can you cut mine into triangles?”

“Well, obviously,” I snort. “The triangles make it taste better.”

I’m rewarded with a toothy grin. “Yeah.”

“Do you want milk or juice?”

“Um.” Sophie considers, weighing her options. “Milk. No, juice. Yeah. I want juice.”

“I think we have some apple juice left,” I tell her. “Go check.”

“Okay.”

I finish up the second grilled cheese I’ve made for myself as she paces over to the fridge, pulling open the doors to peek inside as I turn off the stove. It’s not the fanciest meal anyone has ever made, but thankfully, it doesn’t take much to impress a nine-year-old. I can hear her half climbing up onto the countertop to grab her own glass, which is pretty par for the course for my independent little charge, and I am just getting ready to scold her when I am distracted by the sound of the doorbell. I look back at Sophie with a curious expression; I don’t know who could be coming by this late since Aiden has already left for work.

Then it dawns on me. “Oh. That’s probably your aunt. Your dad said she was coming by.”

Sophie’s eyes light up. “Aunt Iris!”

She bounds off even as I’m calling after her, wiping my hands on a kitchen towel before I start down the stairs to follow her. Sophie already has the door open, hugging a tall, thin woman with soft blond hair falling around her shoulders. Her face is lit up in a bright smile as she clings to Sophie, and it’s only when she peeks up at me that her expression changes, her delicate brow that is the same shade as her hair turning down and her smile faltering.

I decide not to let it bother me. “Hi,” I greet cheerily. “You must be Iris. Aiden said you were coming by.”

“Right,” she answers flatly, and I don’t miss the way her eyes dip down and back up again, like she’s sizing me up. “You must be the new nanny.”

Oh boy.

“That’s me,” I say, keeping my cheery tone. “We were just making dinner . . . Do you want to come up and join us?”

Iris looks around. “Aiden isn’t here?”

“He’s at work,” I answer, noticing the tense nature of her tone.

“Hmm.”

It’s all she says, but she does close the door behind her to step inside, so I guess she’s taking me up on the meal offer. “I was just making us some grilled cheese sandwiches,” I tell her, turning to start toward the stairs. “But I can make something else if you’d rather—”

“I already ate, thank you,” Iris says stiffly.

She’s going to be a tough nut to crack, I think.

I let the silence linger as I step off the landing and move back to the kitchen to get Sophie some juice.

“So how long have you been working here?”

I look up from the counter to find Iris has settled on the couch, watching Sophie climb onto one of the stools at the counter as she readies for dinner.

“Not long,” I say. “Just over a week now.”

“You just seem so at home,” Iris notes.

“Oh, well . . . Aiden and Sophie have been great.”

“Sorry if I sound rude,” Iris says. “I’ve just always hated the idea of Sophie being left with strangers.”

“Of course,” I answer with a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. She watches me for a minute as I pour Sophie’s juice, not speaking again until I slide the cup across the counter to Sophie’s waiting hand.

“How old are you, anyway? You seem kind of young to be a nanny.”

“Twenty-five,” I tell her tightly.

Be nice, I mentally chant.

“Wow.” Iris laughs. “You really are young. You must be barely out of school.”

“Still in, actually,” I correct. “I’ve been working my way through.”

“Oh? And what are you going for?”

“Occupational therapy.”

“Oh, wow.” She nods, looking almost impressed, albeit begrudgingly. “That’s admirable.”

“Let’s hope so,” I respond before taking a bite of my sandwich. “And you? What do you do?”

“I own a flower shop,” she tells me.

I laugh excitedly. “Oh my God! That’s so cute!”

Iris looks at me strangely.

“Because of your name,” I clarify.

“Right . . .” She’s looking at me like I’ve lost it. “Well. I used to run it with Rebecca. It’s been harder doing it alone.”

My smile dissipates. “Oh. Of course. I was so sorry to have heard about that.”

“Were you,” she says flatly.

I take another bite, and then another, wanting to escape this awful tension. I chew roughly as Sophie gives me a thumbs-up about her own sandwich. “Mom used to give me flowers for my birthday every year.”

I smile. “Oh, yeah?”

“They were really pretty,” she tells me.

“That sounds very sweet.”

I notice that Iris is watching this interaction, like she’s studying me, trying to find some fault.

I pop the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth, deciding that I’m obviously in the way here. “Soph, how about I go work on the laundry while you and your aunt visit?”

“Okay,” Sophie says flippantly.

“Great.” I smile as I drop my plate into the sink; I’ll wash dishes later. “I’ll be around if you guys need me. Just let me know.” I try to flash a smile in Iris’s direction, one she doesn’t return. “It was nice to meet you, Iris.”

Iris nods stiffly. “You too.”

I make my escape quickly, climbing the stairs to the third floor to gather up Sophie’s laundry that’s probably scattered on her bedroom and bathroom floor. Sophie seemed to be unaffected by the strange first meeting between her aunt and me, but I can’t pretend I’m not a little uncomfortable. It’s very clear that Iris thinks I’m not needed here, and I can only wonder how that might make things weird going forward. Still . . . based on everything Aiden has told me, I can’t help but be a little sympathetic. It must be hard to have lost a sister and a niece all at once. I would probably be bitter too. I tell myself that there will be plenty of time to get on Iris’s good side, and who knows? Maybe we can even be friends. Eventually.

I think back to Iris’s cold expression, my optimism wavering.

On second thought.

The encounter with Iris stays on my mind for the rest of the night—through a round of board games and even while getting Sophie ready for bed before tucking her in—and maybe that’s why it feels impossible to get to sleep. I toss and turn for maybe an hour trying to drift off, and eventually I doze at some point, but it’s restless. Like one of those instances where you’re awake enough to know you’re asleep but asleep enough not to be awake. If that even makes sense.

At some point, I give up on the idea of it altogether, swinging my legs over the side of the bed in a huff and deciding to head up to the kitchen for a drink. If I can’t get sleep, I can at least get hydrated, I guess. I rub my eyes as I leave my bedroom, closing the door behind me and trudging up the stairs.

I don’t notice him at first, my eyes still heavy and my yawn meaning I’m not really looking where I’m going as I shuffle across the living room, but just before I round the counter I hear him startle, making me do the same thing.

“Aiden?”

He looks surprised to see me there, almost like maybe he’d forgotten I was even here—his eyes exhausted with dark circles underneath them and his button-down half-undone to reveal a stark white T-shirt underneath. “Cassie? What are you still doing up?”

“Sorry,” I offer, stifling another yawn. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” He nods, standing in the light of the open fridge with an amber bottle in his hand. “I hope I wasn’t being too loud.”

I wave him off. “No, no. It wasn’t you. Just a long day.”

“You’re telling me,” he huffs, finally closing the fridge door, making it so that the only thing casting any light is the soft glow of the bulb from the vent hood over the stove.

“Brutal?”

He pops off the cap of his beer. “Very.”

“Sorry about that.”

He takes a swig, making a satisfied sound when he pulls the bottle away. Even haggard looking, it’s hard to miss how good he looks, which is a sharp reminder that we’re alone here in the near dark just staring at each other. Probably not the best idea.

I scratch my scalp sleepily. God, I’m exhausted. “I met Iris today. She’s . . . a character.”

Aiden’s mouth presses together in a tight line. “She wasn’t awful to you, was she?”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said she was going to be inviting me to her birthday party anytime soon,” I tell him. “But it could have been worse, I guess.”

Aiden leans against the counter near the fridge. “I’m glad she wasn’t rude, at least.”

“I didn’t know Sophie’s mom ran a flower shop,” I point out, making conversation for reasons that escape me, given that it’s so late.

“Oh, yeah.” Aiden nods before taking another sip. “It’s a pretty popular shop. Iris runs it by herself now.”

“She really seems to love Sophie,” I note.

“Yeah. She’s great with her. Half raised her, really.”

“She wasn’t entirely happy that Sophie came straight to me after Rebecca died. She seems to think she was the better choice, since, in her words, I was never there for Sophie like she was. It made for a lot of arguments in the beginning.”

“But you’re her dad,” I argue. “Of course she should be with you.”

“The courts agreed, but Iris . . .” He shakes his head. “Part of me thinks she’s just waiting for me to fuck all this up somehow.”

Oh. I know I’m sleepy, but something about Aiden’s deep voice uttering such a dirty word makes my stomach flutter. Definitely not the time, I think.

“It doesn’t help that I’m in the busiest time of my life, career-wise,” he goes on, sighing. “It keeps me away from home more than I’d like.”

I won’t pretend this doesn’t plunge my thoughts into my own childhood, thoughts rushing back of my parents and their jobs and the financial burden that I was constantly being reminded that I was. I am almost one hundred percent certain that Aiden is nothing like my parents, since he actually seems to enjoy spending time with Sophie and tries to do so every chance he’s able; I pack away my own bias to try to see his side.

“I get it. You have to work. Plus, it’s not like you’re just leaving her here by herself. And you spend all your extra time with her when you aren’t working, right?”

“As much as I can,” he says with a nod. “I just . . .” He makes a frustrated sound. “I’m doing my best, but sometimes it feels like it’s not enough.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’m sure this isn’t what you wanted to come home to. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

“No, no. I’m sorry for dumping this on you. It just weighs on me.”

“Don’t be,” I assure him, finally moving to the fridge to grab a water bottle. I pull it open. “We’ll just say that mild therapy is part of my duties. I’ll send my bill in the mail.”

His mouth quirks. “Obviously.”

“Anyway . . . I’m sure you’re tired. I’d better get back to not sleeping.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to keep you,” he chuckles.

“It’s thankless work, but someone has to do it.”

I close the fridge door with the intention of leaving him to himself, but he surprises me when he reaches out to grab my wrist loosely. I stare down at his thick fingers that are warm against my skin, looking back up to meet his concerned expression.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “It’s just . . . You’re okay, right?”

I blink with confusion. “What?”

“I mean . . . she didn’t say anything to upset you, did she?”

“Me?”

Aiden nods. “It’s just . . . I hope she didn’t scare you off.”

“Oh.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I mean, yeah, she was icy toward me, but I’m a big girl, and it’ll take more than Iris to rattle me.

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

He visibly relaxes. “Good.” I think he realizes it then, that he’s still holding my wrist, his face turning down to take it in before he quickly drops it. “Sorry. I’m tired. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine,” I answer quietly, that fluttering in my stomach now a rampant flapping of wings. “We should go to bed.”

His eyes widen a fraction, and then it dawns on me what I’ve said.

“I mean—” I feel my face heat. “I meant separately. Like, you go to bed, and I go to bed, and—”

“Right,” he says, saving me. Is it just me or is his voice lower than it was a second ago? “I know what you meant.”

“Okay.”

The air-conditioning feels chillier than it did before, goose bumps breaking out across my skin and my nipples tightening under my thin T-shirt, reminding me for the first time since I left my room (and much too late, I might add) that I’m not wearing a bra. It only fully hits me when I notice Aiden’s gaze dip down in a way that feels almost like a reflex, like he can’t help it. I hear his sharp inhale as heat rushes down my neck, and I quickly cross my arms over my chest as embarrassment floods through me.

I decide that not acknowledging it is the least mortifying option, looking down at my toes instead of his face. “Okay. Well. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sure,” he answers slowly. “See you in the morning.”

I pad away as fast as I can without actually running, only pausing at the landing turn back slightly. “Night, Aiden.”

“Good night,” he calls back, and I notice he hasn’t moved from where he’s standing.

I don’t think I take a full breath until I’m safely back in my room with the door closed behind me, leaning against it to cover my eyes with my hands. I can only hope the entryway was dark enough that I didn’t give Aiden a complete eyeful; the embarrassment of knowing my very-hot-but-off-limits boss might have seen most of my nipples was enough to make me want to stick my head in a toilet.

I huff out a sigh as I shake my head at my own carelessness, staring out into the dark of my room and telling myself it’s not a big deal. That we’re bound to run into a few faux pas in a situation like ours. That surely Aiden will have forgotten all about it by morning.

Right, I think as I tuck myself back into bed. It’s absolutely not a big deal.

Even if I’m still thinking about the way he looked at me.