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I nodded at Kennedy. “Yeah. I think he loves you too.”
Her answering grin was pure joy.
“Why don’t I do the dishes?” I offered. “You go hang out. Prepare for tomorrow or whatever you need to do.”
“It’s fine. I can do it.”
“I insist.”
“Well, if youinsist.” She theatrically and deliberately took her time finishing her glass of water.
I gathered up the plates to drop them in the sink. Kennedy was two steps out of the kitchen when her cell phone buzzed on the windowsill. A text message appeared on her screen from someone named Jordan, and it readI miss you, baby.
I hadn’t realized that I was still smiling like an idiot until I felt it slip, and whatever had been inflated inside my chest popped. I cleared my throat. “Don’t forget your phone.”
“Oh yeah. Thanks.” She stood next to me, typing, as I rinsed off the plates and set them in the dishwasher. I didn’t know who Jordan was, nor did I care. Because Kennedy’s personal life was none of my business, and someone calling herbabymade no difference to me. Because she was Finn’s nanny.
And wanting to know who the hell Jordan was and why they were calling Finn’s nannybabywas most definitely some kind of ethics violation.
After a few moments, she slid her cell phone into her back pocket then asked me, “Wanted to run it by you first, but I know Finn really likes whipped cream, so I was thinking we should use that as an incentive for him to go on the potty. I know you said you tried naked day, and it didn’t work.”
“No.” I huffed. He didn’t care that he was naked and took a dump in the corner of the living room. I think he felt more connected to his animal side. “It definitely didn’t work.”
“He’s good with bribes, and he’s been doing great with the sticker chore chart. I figured a treat might be good to try. What do you think?”
“Makes sense.”
She pivoted away, calling out, “Hey Finnie, want to try to go to the bathroom before tubby time? If you go on the potty, you can have squirt!”
He came roaring into the kitchen. “Irt!”
“Yes! Squirt!” She sank down to her knees. “Let’s try to go now. Then you can get squirts, okay?”
He held her hand, and Kennedy winked at me as they pranced to the bathroom while I put away the leftovers, scrubbing the pots a bit harder than necessary.
But at least they were squeaky-clean by the time I finished, and Finn was bathed and in his pajamas.
“So, how’d it go?” I asked, once they reappeared in the kitchen. “Did you go potty?”
Finn stayed silent as Kennedy shook her head. “But he did try, so I said he could have a little squirt.”
She opened the refrigerator for the can of whipped cream. Finn danced in place as she shook it. “Just a little,” she repeated and squirted a bit into his mouth.
He swallowed it and made the ASL sign for “more.” Another thing Kennedy had taught him, a few ASL words.
She raised her brow at me in question.
“All right. A little more.” I took the bottle from her and shot a bit into his mouth then sprayed a big glob in mine. Finn laughed hysterically at my chipmunk cheeks. I swallowed it all down and held the bottle up to Kennedy, a silent invitation.
Instead of taking it from me, she tipped her head back and opened her mouth. I squirted some of the white cream between her lips, and she giggled, her mouth so full, it seeped out of the sides when she swallowed.
And I was officially in hell.
She wiped her mouth with her index finger and licked it clean.
Fucking hell.
I’d have to throw away every goddamn bottle of whipped cream. Finn would simply have to learn to pee another way.
