Focus, Blair. First day. Don’t screw it up.
Ten steps and I’m at the back door. The world’s most convenient job—with the world’s grumpiest boss.
I knock, and it opens almost immediately.
“Morning.” Lachlan checks his watch and gives a curt nod. “Right on time.”
“Wouldn’t want to mess up the schedule on day one,” I say with a smile. He doesn’t return it, but there’s no scowl either, so I’m going to call that progress.
Gus bounds into the kitchen. I know what to expect now, so I’m ready for him when he jumps up. “Uh-uh! No licking.” I push him back to the floor. “But yes, it’s good to see you too.”
I shoot Lachlan a glance, hoping he noticed my excellent dog wrangling, but he gives me nothing.
Next Finn bounces in. “Blair! It’s the holidays. No more school!”
I hold up both hands like I’m fending off a tidal wave of enthusiasm. “Wow, someone’s wired this morning! What did you have, three cups of coffee?”
Finn laughs. “I don’t drink coffee!”
I widen my eyes and give a theatrical little gasp. “You don’t? Then all this energy is natural? Oh boy, I’m in trouble.”
Maybe I’m imagining it, but IthinkLachlan’s lips twitch, just a little. A smile from Captain Grumpypants? Because of somethingIsaid? That is a good start to the day.
Of course, it’s gone almost as soon as it appears. Lachlan pulls Finn in for a quick hug and ruffles his hair, then he bends to give Gus a scratch. “I’ve already fed this one,” he tells me. “If he gives you the puppy eyes, ignore him. He’s chancing it.”
“Understood.”
Lachlan straightens to his full height and nods at me, a gesture that somehow manages to convey “don’t screw this up” and “good luck” in equal measure. “Right, I’m off. Any problems, you’ve got my number. Otherwise, I’ll see you at four.”
Without another word, he heads for the front door. It clicks shut behind him, and just like that, I’m in charge of a small boy and a large dog. For eight hours.
“Well, then.” Shaking off any doubt, I clap my hands together. “Breakfast time!”
Gus perks up, tail going into overdrive, and I give him a pat. “Not you, boy. You already had yours, remember?”
I prepare Finn’s breakfast as Lachlan described. Two slices of toast, cut diagonally—not a rectangle in sight—served with strawberry jam. I set the plate down on the kitchen table, and Finn digs in. I hover by the table as he chews, the quiet stretching. Shouldn’t I be, I don’t know, engaging him? That’s what good nannies do, right? But suddenly I have no idea what to say to a six-year-old boy.
Oh God. Why has my mind gone blank?
I’m about to launch into some inane chatter about the weather when he saves me from myself. “Where are you from?” he asks.
Thank you! That’s something I can talk about.
“New York. Do you know where that is?”
He nods seriously. “Aye. It’s where Spider-Man lives.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Don’t worry, I know Spider-Man’s not real,” Finn adds. “But I’ve seen New York in the films. That’s where the Statue of Liberty is, right?”
“You got it. I used to take a ferry to Manhattan every day for work, and every morning I’d see the Statue of Liberty on the way.”
We chat a bit more about New York, which Finn thinks looks “really busy” but “like a lot of fun”. He says he’s never been anywhere like that before. When he finishes his last bite, I send him to brush his teeth, and exactly two minutes later, he’s back again.
“All done!” he says. “What’s next?”
“Well, the next item on your dad’s schedule isn’t until nine, which makes this free time, I guess. What do you want to do?”
