“Some are emotional support rocks,” she explained.
“Which emotions?”
“Mostly anger.”
Behind us, Mr. Lawrence leaned briefly against the doorway while watching the children crowd around me.
By the time we returned downstairs, the children had decided I belonged to them.
This was both flattering and concerning.
Billie was holding my hand again, and whenever the silence lasted longer than seconds, CJ would ask me another question. Bianca had stopped pretending to be uninterested entirely and now watched me with active intellectual focus.
Mr. Lawrence noticed all of this. He tried not to, but he was doing a poor job of it. Every few minutes, I caught him looking at the children in disbelief, as if they were wild animals accepting food directly from someone’s hand.
“You’re being suspiciously well-behaved,” he said to Billie as we entered the kitchen again.
She pouted. “I’m always behaved.”
CJ automatically pulled out a chair for me, then sat backward in the one beside it. “I think what Billie means is that traditional behavior metrics fail to capture her complexity.”
Bianca nodded thoughtfully. “That does align with her.”
Mr. Lawrence’s exhaustion had become more pronounced. It was interesting how quickly affection softened his irritation, though. Even now, tiredness sat heavily in him, but every timeone of the children spoke, a loose, easy warmth settled over his features.
He moved toward the kitchen island and shuffled several papers into order—employment forms, emergency contacts, school information and schedules. He was trying very hard not to appear hopeful.
“I realize this is sudden,” he said carefully, “but if you’re truly interested in the position, I’d be happy to have you start immediately. Or next week. Whenever works best for you.”
All three children whipped their heads toward me.
I folded my gloved hands neatly beside the paperwork. “Tomorrow would be perfectly acceptable.”
Relief burst through the room. Billie actually bounced on her toes. CJ tried to hide his smile and failed, and Bianca looked down at her book too quickly. And Mr. Lawrence?—
It transformed him. The constant tension around his mouth eased, and his shoulders sagged. For a brief moment, he looked younger than he had when opening the door. Human men truly had no idea how transparent they became when they were bogged down by exhaustion.
“That’s…” He stopped and exhaled softly. “That’s wonderful.”
“Wonderful,” Billie repeated.
“We shouldn’t emotionally overwhelm the nanny before her first day,” Bianca said.
Billie stuck her tongue out at her sister. “She likes me.”
“I do,” I agreed, eliciting a triumphant look from Billie.
Mr. Lawrence gathered himself quickly and slid the contract toward me, so cautiously professional as if a more sudden movement would scare away the first competent childcare provider his children hadn’t psychologically destroyed on sight.
The contract itself was remarkably reasonable. He provided a good salary with clear expectations and appropriate hours. Though I did pause briefly at:Employee agrees to maintain a safe and stable environment for the children.
Subjective, really.
I signed neatly.
Mr. Lawrence handed me a form for emergency contact information. “And if there’s anyone we should call?—”
“No.”
