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“Thank you for not forgetting those.” He smiles. “I try but there are just days where it all gets away from me.” He’s doing great. There’s not one thing I can fault him on so far—except his lack of a shirt. That’s hard to ignore, and I keep having to turn around and pretend to clean up, so I don’t stare at him. “We are going to The Titanic Artifact Exhibition today,” Lance says. “Nova is a bit obsessed with boats currently.”
Nova’s little eyes light up, and he starts to tell me a stream of Titanic facts, and I can tell this is his current hyper fixation. It’s common in kids like him. They latch onto something, learn absolutely everything, and then move on to another. Lance talks with him, and they start looking up things on his phone.
“I can google Sienna,” he tells me. “I even googled you,” he says and I have to laugh. The agency scrubs our online presence, and we are not allowed social media to protect the kids, families, and the agency. Privacy laws are sticky, and it’s best not to get caught in any kind of lawsuit.
“You and I will have to use that Google skill when we start with our school program on Monday, okay,” I say, and he goes back to Titanic with his dad. Lance’s phone rings, and before he takes it, he asks me.
“Could you help him get ready while I take this?” I nod and he walks out, talking on the phone.
“Okay, let’s get you dressed to go out with your dad. What do you want to wear?” We go to his room, and he opens his wardrobe. Scanning the shelves, he chooses an outfit and shoes.
“I will put them on and brush my teeth,” he says. “I need a hat in case we will be in the sun. I burn.” I take one out and pack him a small backpack with that, a spare set of clothes and sunscreen in it.
“Come here. Let me comb your crazy hair,” I say, and he laughs. “It’s standing up like a cockatoo.” Nova hands me a brush, and I try to tame his morning mane. It looks like he was dragged through a hedge in his sleep. “That’s better, now you look perfect for a day out.”
“Thank you, Sienna,” he speaks.
“Hey, get Dad to take some pictures today. You can show me tonight what you saw.” I put his backpack on for him as Lance comes in to find him.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks and Nova jumps up and down. “We’ll be home for dinner. But you don’t have to cook. I will order in for us tonight.”
“I don’t mind cooking, I enjoy it. If you’d prefer it.” I offer because it feels so wrong to be paid to do nothing all day.
“Saturday is take out night.” Nova chips in. “It is my week to choose, but no McDonalds.” He rolls his eyes. Clearly, he would choose dinner based on where they have toys. “We will have to give Sienna a turn next week, Dad.”
“I don’t need a turn. I trust you two to choose something good,” I say. “Go have fun. I will see you later on. You can tell me everything,” I say and Nova looks up and speaks.
“Promise I can tell you.” I nod. “You are so fun. No one at school wanted to know about it.” He’s so smart, I just love it. They leave me alone, and after getting our lessons planned, going for a swim, and cleaning up my room—I do not know what to do with myself.
I flip on the TV in the media room where Nova plays his games and turn on Netflix. It’s locked to the kid’s profile, and I don’t have the password, so I have a choice of The Thunder-mans and an animated series. Neither are great, but the quiet house is worse, so I leave the kid’s TV on and scroll Pinterest for some fun lesson ideas while I wait for them to come home.
* * *
“You have to tie them real tight, or you will fall over your laces trying to kick the ball,” I say to Nova while helping him get his kit on for the soccer match this morning. The Lord alone knows why they make these things at the crack of dawn. He’s yawning and rubbing his eyes.
When he’s ready, I carry his bag and Lance is waiting for us by the door. He looks different this morning—casual. Not shirtless casual but damn fine in his shorts, and snug white t-shirt with Nike sneakers and sunglasses on.
When I see him like that, I don’t see the billionaire businessman. I see a dad who loves his kid enough to be up as ass-fuck o’clock on a Sunday morning. Without the suit and the frown, he’s even more attractive. I shake my head, snapping myself back to the reality that he is my boss—I can’t be thinking about how hot he is all the time.
“Ready?” he asks Nova as we all get into the elevator, his aftershave smells so good. In the small space, it’s filters around us, and it’s distracting me from the fact we are going to his son’s soccer match, and I am the nanny. Nova climbs in the back seat, and I sit next to Lance on the drive to the soccer club. It feels wrong—like I should be in the back.
“Sienna,” Nova says from the back seat. “Will you cheer like you did at practice?” he asks me. I turn so I can see him.
“I will cheer, and clap and shout for you and your team, yes,” I say and he gives me a giant smile, satisfied with my answer. Lance is concentrating on driving, and I try not to be obvious when I sneak glances at him.
The parking lot is full, and it seems everyone has arrived all at once. Nova and his teammates are all bubbling over with excitement and he runs off with the coach. Lance and I walk in silence to the stands where we find a good spot to watch. I sit near him, but not next to him—and wait until it’s Nova’s team up to play. The soccer moms whispers and glances are not lost on me. I see them, and the way they make goggly eyes at Lance. Fluttering their plastic lashes and making small talk, sidling up to sit closer.
He looks uncomfortable and moves over each time they get too close. “I am going to go watch from the sideline,” I say. “So I can cheer for him like I promised,” I say to him, and he hops up.
“I will come with you.” I smile as he makes his escape.
SEVEN
LANCE
The cougars at the soccer club were worse than usual, way worse. I had moms I have never even seen before sitting near me, trying to make small talk about the referee or coaches. I am almost certain they don’t even know the rules of soccer. I am no whizz myself, but I have learned a few things from listening to my eight-year-old. I played baseball, not soccer or football.
Sienna, however, knows about soccer, all about it. She was running up and down the sidelines doing a better coaching job than the very well-paid coach. Nova responded to her, listened—and played like a little champ. He wasn’t daydreaming on the back line. He got involved. Her cheering and clapping fueled him. It’s like he needed that extra energy.
