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“Yeah, it was so fun,” Lilah says with a nod.
I laugh lightly, giving Lilah a little bounce in my arms. “We were just about to take a quick shower before eating.”
Leo’s gaze slides over to me, awareness prickling my skin. “I can give her a bath,” he says, holding his hands out for his daughter. He looks at me again and flicks his head towards the general direction of the guest house. “Give you time to clean up and join us for lunch.”
I nod, handing Lilah off to her dad, who takes her in his arms with a wide, devastating grin that makes my pulse throb right between my legs. Why is there nothing sexier than a handsome man with an adorable kid?
“Alright, I’ll be quick,” I say with a flash of a grin before walking towards the back door, trying not to make it too obvious that I’m practically bolting it out of there.
Inside the guest house, I walk into my bathroom and drop the towel, shedding the bathing suit and letting it drop on the tiled floor with a wet plop. The shower I take is quick and hot, scrubbing off the chlorine from my skin and out of my hair and replacing the sharp smell of it with my favorite lavender scented body wash. When I am done with my shower, I make quick work of my skin care routine before changing into a pair of high waisted boyfriend jeans and a crop top.
When I’m dressed, I grab my phone to head back to the main house, only to see that I have a text from my mother. A knot of unease forms in the pit of my stomach, as it always does whenever either of my parents reach out to me. Honestly, better Mom reaching out to me than my ex-boyfriend, Oliver. That’s a whole other can of worms.
I only ever see my parents on holidays, and even then, it’s for a couple of hours, so when they call or text me on any regular day, it’s always a little unnerving. So, as usual, I take a deep breath before opening her message.
I’m hosting a luncheon this Saturday with some friends and their daughters at 1 o’clock sharp. I expect to see you there.
I purse my lips, suppressing a rough scoff that wants to escape. She doesn’t even ask for me to come—she simply demands it and expects me to listen to her, no questions asked. She knows I’m a nanny twenty-four/seven—even if I don’t work most Saturdays because Leo lets me have them off—but my choice of career isn’t something my parents are big fans of. With Mom being a surgeon and Dad being a lawyer, I know for a fact they both had bigger plans for me—better plans, in their words. They would rather I was a doctor or lawyer or something along those lines. They think being a nanny, even for the kind of high profile clients I have, is not a proper, respectable career.
Frankly, I stopped caring about their opinions a long time ago. It’s why I keep my distance from them for the most part. But it would be a lie to say their blatant disregard for my job doesn’t sting alittle.
Instead of responding to Mom—especially because I know it will annoy her—I leave the guest house and head back to the main one, walking into the kitchen where Leo and Lilah are just about to sit down. Leo’s gaze flicks to me upon my entrance, and a small smile touches his mouth as he says, “Right on time. Come on,” he adds, jerking his chin toward the chair on the other side of Lilah.
I hesitate for a second. I mean, this isn’t the first time I have sat with the two of them to eat, but I do hesitate every time. I don’t know why. It feels… strangely intimate, to sit with them and eat. But I force myself to move, sitting down at the table where there’s a dish of four cheese lasagna that Marty cooked, along with a bunch of equally delicious looking sides.
As we help ourselves, I watch as Leo cuts up Lilah’s lasagna for her into smaller pieces, and she waits patiently while munching on some cheesy garlic bread. When I take the first bite of the pasta, it takes everything in me not to groan with appreciation at the taste. Marty is a freaking god in the kitchen, and I only wish I could cook half as well as him.
“Daria’s going to text you about it,” Leo speaks up, catching my attention. “But Elaine’s been wanting to have a playdate with Lilah. I said you guys can set it up some time this week.”
I nod, reaching for my glass of water. “Sounds good.” I pause for a moment before pushing myself to ask, “Will you be around this Saturday?”
Leo glances at me, stabbing a piece of pasta with his fork. “I think so, yeah. Why?”
I take a breath, absently using the fork to play with my food as Mom’s text flashes through my mind. “I might have to go to a lunch my mom is hosting. Shouldn’t be too long, so I figured I’d ask if you needed me working.”
He regards me for a moment. In between us, Lilah eats her food, her plastic fork not quite making the same clinking sounds against her plate like ours do. “This Saturday is all yours,” Leo tells me. But the curiosity in his gaze remains. “How come you sound less than thrilled to have lunch with your mom?”
A scoff of a laugh escapes me, eyebrows flicking up becausethatis a can of worms not worth opening. I glance down at Lilah, who is too busy with her meal, and I offer Leo a wry smile and carefully choose my words as I truthfully answer, “My mom’s not the easiest person to get along with.”
That’s putting it lightly, but whatever.
Leo arches a brow, chewing his food. I do my best not to drop my gaze to his throat as he swallows before he asks, “And your dad?”
I suck a breath through my teeth, my sardonic smile remaining as I answer, “Even worse,” before shoving a forkful of lasagna into my mouth.
I bite too hard, cursing myself because what am I doing? It’s horribly unprofessional of me to tell such personal facts about myself and my family to a client. It’s inappropriate and something I have never done before. But, God, Leo hasn’t been like any of the other parents I have worked for. He’s far more present, much more involved in Lilah’s life than the parents of the past kids I have looked after. And, somehow, that makes it almost effortless to just tell him about my parents.
Sure, it’s the bare minimum, but it’s enough to give him the right impression of how. . . shitty my parents are. While Camila is the reason why I became a nanny, just like her, my parents were a big factor in that, too. Their absence from my life, their disinterest in what was going on with me ever since I was a kid, just pushed me into being someone who had others there for them when their parents wouldn’t.
All of this to say, Ishouldn’tbe saying any of it to Leo.
Keep it professional. Keep my distance. It shouldn’t be hard; I have done it with all of my clients.
Leo should not be any different.
5
LEO
