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“Uh. Fine,” she said, scrambling off the stool and running into a bathroom just off the kitchen.
“Use soap this time, please,” Sam called after her and then said to me, “Don’t worry. We have more pizza, and I’ll make a salad.”
“You don’t have to feed me.”
Sam gave me a measured look. “You’re living here now. You’re welcome to join us for dinner.”
I wondered if he was making an extra effort to include me so I’d stay. Had he done that with the other nannies?
He slid the jar of pizza sauce toward me with a spoon. “That’s very generous of you. I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer privacy.”
He gestured around the room. “You’re part of this now.”
He wasn’t saying I was part of his family, but some dormant part of me jumped at the idea that he was.
I carefully spread pizza sauce over my personal-sized pie. I used to make pizzas like this with one of my nannies. She was the one who’d stayed the longest. She was let go around the time Elle was hired to be on the show, and my parents decided we didn’t need a nanny anymore.
“Aren’t you excited about living with us?” Maggie ran back into the room and hopped onto the stool again. Kneeling, she scattered shredded cheese over my sauce.
Her tone was infectious.
“So excited,” I said, bopping her on the nose.
Her tongue darted out in concentration as she arranged five pepperonis on my pie, two for the eyes, one for the nose, and three for the mouth.
“There,” she finally said, moving back to her seat. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Told you,” she singsonged as she dropped more cheese into her mouth.
“You’d better leave some of that cheese for the pizza,” Sam repeated.
“Daddy has plenty,” she said, dropping more into her mouth, but mainly missing it. There was cheese scattered on her lap and the floor underneath her.
I watched as Sam gathered our pies and placed them on a flat pan, then put it into the oven. Sam’s had olives, green peppers, and small bits of sausage.
I couldn’t remember my father ever cooking a meal. He’d rarely eaten with us. He was always too busy working.
Sam shut the oven and braced his hands on the counter. “Elle said you’re from California.”
I tensed, wondering how much he’d want to know. “Huntington Beach.”
“What brings you here?”
I wondered if he’d heard what I’d done to Elle and Gray. I assumed he hadn’t, because if he did, I wouldn’t be sitting in his kitchen right now. It was best not to talk about that time in our lives. “Elle moved here. She loved Telluride, and I wanted to see the appeal.”
“Then you stayed?”
“Well, they’d just had Amelia, and they needed help. I loved spending that time with my niece.” It was just what I needed at the time.
“You like kids?”
“I love them. It wasn’t something I realized until I held Amelia for the first time. Babies are so innocent, you know?”
Sam’s gaze moved to Maggie, who was carefully rolling pepperoni and taking a bite. “I know what you mean.”
He had that protective vibe, like he’d protect his daughter with his life. I wondered where her mother was, but I didn’t want to ask in front of Maggie.
