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She puts a hand over her heart. “That’s so sweet!”
“Don’t tell him that though. He’s still a pain in my ass.”
“I imagine.”
“Are you close with your sisters?”
She rubs her forehead before she takes a seat in the chair in front of my desk. “It’s complicated.” I don’t say anything while I wait for her to continue. “My younger sister Emily…” She twists her mouth. “She thinks I try to be her mom.” She swallows. “And maybe I did. Obviously not now, but when she was sixteen and pregnant and I dropped out of college to help her, I probably did.” She shrugs. “But she was scared and we didn’t have a mom and I only knew one way to take care of Emily and Eden and it probably was too motherly. Maybe a part of me resented her because I thought they were going to be fine when I left and then as soon as I did everything fell apart. I figured she’d do for Eden what I’d done for them both and I was disappointed that she didn’t.” She leans back in her chair and looks up at me. “I probably pushed too hard and now our relationship is…fine, but it’s not what it could be.” She fidgets with her fingers in her lap and gives me a shy smile. “We’re getting deep here.”
“I don’t hate it.”
Her big brown eyes meet mine before she looks toward my computer and then the papers all over my desk.
“I should leave you. I know you’re busy and I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She gets up from the chair.
“You didn’t,” I tell her, wishing that she didn’t feel the sudden urge to leave. I want to learn more about her and something tells me she doesn’t talk about her relationship with her sister much. “I’m here if you ever want to talk more…about that.”
She hesitates before nodding and leaving my office.
Before I know it, it’s been three weeks since I started working for the Kincaids. There haven’t been any serious meltdowns or tantrums and I was hoping that this wasn’t the calm before the storm. The time when a nanny first starts and children behave like angels before they turn into hellions. I had high hopes it wouldn’t be like that, but I was prepared for anything. I haven’t really talked toMr. Kincaidsince that night in his office. He’s been coming home even later each night since and holes up in his office until after I’m asleep, I imagine. I can see the fatigue all over his face each morning when he leaves for work.
If I’m even awake by the time he leaves.
Margot has already left for school when Mr. Kincaid pads through the kitchen, very clearly not dressed for work. He looks as if he’s just woken up, his hair slightly disheveled, his clothes wrinkled from sleep and it’s the first time I’ve seen him like this.
Still so strikingly handsome even first thing in the morning.
He yawns, mumbling a quietgood morning, before making his way to the coffee maker. I try my best not to pay attention to how the sweatpants cling to him or the t-shirt that shows off his toned arms. It’s loose across his torso, so I can’t make out a ton of definition but I do see a hint of a happy trail when his shirt rides up slightly. I avert my gaze not wanting to think about the hair there or what lies just beneath it.
“Long night?” I ask as I start cutting up some fruit for Isla and SJ’s lunches.
“I think I slept an hour,” he says while pulling a mug out from the cabinet.
I frown, seeing the exhaustion all over his face and thinking about how he has another long day ahead of him. “Oh, can I make you some breakfast?”
“No, I—” he starts before he leans against the counter. “Actually yeah, whatever you’re making the kids is fine.”
“I was just doing eggs and fruit today, but I can make you an omelet if you like. You just have to tell me what you like in it. When are you leaving, so I can make sure it’s ready?”
“I’m working from home today,” he tells me and the slight tremor that moves through me in response tells me I’m very aware of the fact that it means we’ll be alone here all day.
So? You’ve been in the house alone with dads before.
When, exactly?
“Oh. That’s good. You’ve been working really hard and…you look tired.”
“Thanks,” he replies sardonically before he takes a sip of his coffee.
“I mean you look good—” I freeze, realizing what I said. “I’m just glad you’re taking a day for yourself to rest,” I correct.
“I wouldn’t call it a day for myself,” he says, “I’ll still be working. But…I think I’ll take the kids to school. I feel like I’ve barely seen them all week.” He takes another sip, but his eyes stay trained on mine over the mug.
“They’ll love that,” I tell him as I zip up Isla’s lunchbox. Right on cue, she comes running into the kitchen still in her pajamas. “Ellie, Ellie!” She hops up on one of the bar stools. “Hi, Daddy!” she adds with a wave before turning back to me. “Can you French braid?”
“I sure can.” I nod. “Do you want me to do them for you?”
“Yes, pleeease!” she says with her hands steepled under her chin before putting a hand on each side of her head. “Two.”