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The house is rather bare and not as warm as his house, but Isaac doesn’t seem to mind or notice. Kids are wonderful like that. They take you for who you are. My heart squeezes painfully. I’ll probably never experience motherhood.
“It smells nice in here,” Isaac says.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” I tell him. “I made an after-school snack. Chocolate cake. I hope you’ll like it.”
“Yay,” Isaac says when he sees the small round cake on the kitchen table. He goes to the sink, washes his hands, and plops down on the chair.
I cut him a piece and pour him a glass of milk from the fridge and do the same for myself. Isaac makes appreciative noises as he eats, and it warms my heart. I’ve never cooked for a child before. It makes me feel good inside to see him clear his plate.
“Want some more?” I ask him.
“No, thanks, I’m full,” he says and leans back to pat his stomach.
I shift in my seat as it dawns on me that I had not thought beyond the after school snack. What were we going to do between now and when Isaac’s dad came home? My house had no pool or trampoline. Even if it did, Isaac’s swim shorts were in his house.
“Do you want to play hide and seek?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say enthusiastically, and soon, I’m crouched behind a curtain as Isaac counts up to ten.
I can’t remember laughing so hard. Time just flies by as we play hide and seek. Isaac becomes more creative the longer we play, and it takes longer to find him. His dad’s car pulls up while we’re still in the middle of the game. Isaac is hiding, and I’m searching.
Minutes later, the doorbell rings, and I go to open it.
“Hi,” Brad says, and it hits me just how handsome he is.
“Hi,” I say. “Come on in for some cake and coffee. “We’re in the middle of a game of hide and seek.”
“Thanks,” he says, and he enters.
Masculine cologne surrounds him, and I inhale a wisp of it as he goes past me.
“Isaac, your dad’s home,” I shout.
“You have to find me first,” a voice calls from one of the bedrooms.
“I’ll find him while you make the coffee,” Brad says.
“Go on,” I tell him and go into the kitchen.
As I set up the coffee, I can hear their laughter. It brings tears to my eyes. I’d thought that being left when you had a child was difficult. It wasn’t. The child makes it easier to bear. They give you a reason for going on.
Brad and Isaac walk into the kitchen, hand in hand.
“You have to taste Mila’s cake, Dad,” Isaac says.
“Can’t wait,” Brad says and winks at me.
I serve him coffee and cake, and we all sit down at the table.
“Wait, are you all going to just sit and watch me eat?” Brad says.
I laugh. He’s right. It’s uncomfortable for him. “I’ll serve us each a tiny piece; what do you say, Isaac?”
“None for me, thanks. James gave me a storybook. I’m going to read it.” He slides off the chair and goes off to the living room.
I serve myself a tiny piece just to keep Brad company.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” he says in between mouthfuls. “Isaac’s right. It’s delicious.”
“You’re welcome on both counts,” I tell him. “If you like, I can mind Isaac for you.”
He pauses. “Really, like a job?”
I hadn’t meant it like that, but why not? I might as well keep myself occupied while I’m here. As much as I’m enjoying my time here in LA, time does crawl by when you have nothing specific to do. Plus, if Brad is paying me, he wouldn’t feel like he’s imposing.
“Yes. I’m between jobs, and I don’t really mind. I can even throw in some cooking and cleaning in there.” I’m not hot on cleaning, but if it’ll sweeten my offer…
“I can’t afford to have you do all that,” Brad says.
“The official job is a nanny. The rest is a bonus.”
He peers at me. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay then,” he says, and we sit smiling at each other. “I’ll show you around the house.”
He finishes his coffee and cake, and we all leave my house and go to theirs. Isaac disappears into his room as his father gives me a tour. The rooms are large and airy, and everything looks so neat.
“I like to clean,” he explains sheepishly when I make a comment to that effect. “A dramatic person could even describe me as being OCD.”
I laugh. It’s refreshing to meet a clean man. I can’t help comparing him to Clay. When he left a room, you knew he had been there by the trail of a disaster he left behind.
Isaac’s room is on one side of the hallway opposite his dad’s, and right opposite is the guest room. I troop in after Brad.
