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She chuckles and shakes my hand again. “Right. We were interrupted. Lily Olson.”
That’s a cute name. Like something out of an old comic book.“Nice to officially meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“I assume you don’t have any carseats, right?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I can pick some up, if—
“No, I have extra ones from the last nanny and can show you how to put them in.”
“Sounds good.” When the kids run off again, Lily asks, “It’s none of my business, but I’m a curious person. If you don’t mind, why did the last nanny leave?”
Do not tell her the kids scared a nun.“It was just a temporary thing for her. Career nannies are hard to find.”
“Oh.”
“How much did Abigail tell you about Franny and Aiden?”
“They’re five. Twins. A bit rambunctious.”
I chuckle. “All true. You should know they are high energy and, like you, are curious.”
“Which gets them into trouble?” she asks.
“What makes you say that?”
“When I was their age, I was definitely trouble,” she says with a laugh.
You’ve been trouble of a sort your whole life, haven’t you?I smile, trying to banish that thought. “Rambunctious is the pleasant word Abigail likes for it. High-spirited is what my mother calls it. I preferchaotic.”
“The teachers here say that they aren’t that bad but I think they have more patience than normal people. Whatever the case, I’m just glad we’ll have someone around who can handle a bit of anarchy. I presume since you are a chef, that’s a specialty for you.”
She smiles, and her eyes flicker with mischief. “If I couldn’t handle a rough go now and then, I never would have made it into a kitchen.”
I don’t doubt it.
-
9
Lily
As if I hadn’t been nervous already, my new boss was my one-night stand. The coincidence is brutal. But at the school, he acted like we were strangers.He has to know it’s me. Doesn’t he?
But there was no telling glance, no lingering expression of, “Oh shit.” Only the cool gaze of a man in total control. The way he was that night.
Driving behind his Tesla X in my mom’s 2015 Honda Civic, I can’t help but wonder if Friday was just another night to him. If I’m one of the many faceless women he’s banged and forgotten. Maybe that’s why he and Abigail divorced. Maybe he can’t keep it in his pants. How can I work for someone like that? Worse yet—will he bring women home around the kids, and subsequently, me?
I smack the steering wheel to the beat of the drum of the pop song on the radio, but it’s just to spend my nervous energy. I’d tried to go with my tried-and-true meal planning, but I couldn’t. For that matter, I don’t even know what I said to the kids to get them to like me. I was just rambling, but they seemed to like it, so thank my lucky stars for that.
With Cormac, though…oh god, will he want me to wear a uniform? Or call him Mr. Macmillan? If he does that, I can’t work for him. I draw the line there. I’m not addressing anyone I slept with that way, no matter how much I need the money.
Ugh, I’m spinning out. I have to stop. Deep breaths. Lots of deep breaths. Just have to breathe. It’ll all be okay. Alright, not that many deep breaths, or you’ll pass out and ram his car.
I am just going to his house to get the lay of the land and…terrible choice of words. I’ll check it out, and get a feel for…wow, there is no good way to think about this. Shaking my head at myself, I think back to his text. “…We will head to the house after so I can show you around.” Nothing awkward or forward about that. More of a casual command, really.
Sort of like Cormac.
