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“Awesome job, kiddo!” I shout, clapping my hands together and crying out a few woo-hoos.
He’s almost startled by my reaction, and I use that to my benefit.
“Dude, that was so great!” I cheer, a huge smile on my face. “Can you do it again? I’m horrible at getting into tire swings.”
Teddy pauses for just a second before he stands up then turns around to look at the black circle dangling in front of him. I can tell he’s considering as he adjusts the glasses on his face, but then it’s totally clear once he’s made up his mind, because he settles back for a second, preparing to launch at it again.
And then he does.
This time, he lands a bit better in the middle, and I cheer him just as loudly as before. I can hear his grandparents chiming in from the deck.
“Can I push you?” I ask.
But just like that, Teddy lets go of the tire and drops to the ground again.
“No thank you,” he says, his little voice almost timid.
I shrug. “That’s actually better. Can you push me?”
His brows furrow for a second and I cross to the swing, giving it a tug or two to make sure it will support my weight before I grip the top and step one leg at a time through the tire, resting my butt on the edge.
“My name is Ms. Emily,” I tell him, giving myself just a tiny bit of a push with one foot, hoping he’ll take the bait. “What’s your name?”
Teddy watches me for a moment before he comes closer and gives me a gentle push.
“I’m Teddy.”
“Sally?” I ask, intentionally mishearing him.
He giggles. “No, Teddy.”
He pushes me again, and this time I pump my legs, trying to give him some help.
“Thanks, Teddy!” I tell him. “It’s so much more fun to be pushed by a friend.”
He giggles and keeps pushing me, then it turns into some kind of game where he tries to push me even though I’m already swinging, plus he’s trying to run out of the way so he doesn’t get knocked over.
We’re laughing together like that when I hear Teddy shout, “Daddy!”
I try to turn my head to see who he’s looking at, but my momentum shifts, whipping me around in a circle that’s difficult to control. When I drop my legs down to stop my motion, something goes wrong and I tumble backward from the tire and into a glorious heap in the grass.
“Oof,” I mumble to myself, giving my brain a few seconds to stop spinning before I rise up off the ground and dust off my pants.
I turn to head to the deck, wishing I’d read the family’s bio so I wouldn’t feel like I’m constantly playing catch-up. I keep thinking I understand the situation and then there’s some new piece of information that changes the picture in my head and feels like a curveball.
First they’re Teddy’s parents, then his grandparents. Then I realize he has a father in the picture. What else can I misunderstand? I ask myself with a laugh.
And it’s with that thought in my head that my eyes land on where Teddy has jumped into the arms of who I can only guess is his father, the picture changing again.
When Teddy’s father’s eyes catch on mine, the easygoing way he looked at his son disappears in an instant, replaced instead by the anger I saw from him at The Lighthouse the other night.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Colton’s reaction takes even me by surprise, but definitely not as much as it surprises his parents.
“Colton Allen Palmer, you watch your mouth,” his mother says, her voice strong and loud as she reprimands her son. “That is no way to talk to Ms. Burns.”
His head flies back and he glares at his parents. “She’s supposed to be the nanny?” he asks. “And what happened to our agreement that we’d meet her together, and that I would approve of whether or not she’d be meeting Teddy?”
