Page 59 of Nine Week Nanny

“I agree, he sounds delicious,” she says, sounding very flustered in spite of herself. "Wanting it and acting on it are very different. You have nine weeks. If you sleep with him, that could make that excruciatingly miserable if things go sideways, which is the likely scenario if you go there.”

"I know. And I haven't even told you he's working from home, now, which is only ratcheting up whatever this is."

"Wait, he's at home with you and Lennon all day, now? Why?"

"Not all day. He spends a lot of time at the hospital. Something about his office flooding. I just know he's around all the time and less grumpy and more dad-like, and my estrogen is through the roof."

"Yeah. This is a situation."

"That's all you've got for me?”

“I already told you. Do not sleep with him again,” she says in her calm, matter-of-fact voice. "What else can I say? You're living there, so you'll just need to figure out how not to put yourself in these situations. Avoid him when you can."

I think about our nights with a glass of wine after Lennon goes to bed. Maris would definitely advise against that.

“You make it sound so easy. It's not like I thought I'd run into him shirtless in the dark hall at two in the morning.”

“You make a good point.” Paper rustles on her end. “But you have to keep the line drawn.”

“I know you're right. I need to get my head on straight before I find myself in a mess I can't fix.” I nod as if I’m convincing myself in real time. “I can do this.”

"You can. I believe in you. I have to run, but I'll call you later. Love you!"

"LYLAS."

I toss my phone aside, my pulse still racing, and lean back against the seat. The car is quiet, but my body isn't. Every nerve is awake, and I have so much restless energy that I don't know what to do with.

I shakeoff the memory of this morning's kitchen moment and focus on the task at hand. The house is blissfully quiet with Lennon still at Seabreeze. Sunlight streams through theplayroom windows, casting everything in warm gold as I kneel on the carpet, spreading out the flashcards I've bought to work with Lennon.

While he has come out of his shell with a vengeance, Lennon is still working through the grief of losing his mom. I know the crying in the night was about that, even if he can't remember today.

Every once in a while he brings her up, or asks me if I do things I'm sure are things his mom did with him. I want to help him express those feelings of sadness in a safe space.

It's easier to breathe when Pope isn't around. I can pretend I'm just a professional doing my job, not someone with inappropriate thoughts about her employer.

I sort the emotion cards into neat piles. A pile for happy faces, sad faces, and angry faces. I can’t help but wonder if there's a card for whatever this feeling is between us. Complicated. Dangerous. Electric.

The floor creaks behind me. I don't need to turn to know it's him.

"Are you alphabetizing emojis?” Pope's voice carries that hint of amusement that makes my skin prickle.

"Busted. I thought you said you would be gone all day."

"My afternoon meeting got moved to tomorrow. I had enough of the fluorescent lights in that place, so I thought I would catch up on some office stuff. So, how exactly do you alphabetize smiley-face cards?"

I don't look up. "They're categorized by emotional response. It helps kids identify feelings they might not have words for yet."

His shadow falls across my workspace as he crouches beside me. Close enough that I can smell his cologne, something dark and sharp under the salt of the ocean air. My pulse trips.

"Neat. I had no idea that was a thing. Thank you for helping Lennon. He's really seemed so much happier since starting at Seabreeze. That was a great call."

"He's a great kid. It's an honor to work with him, to be here."

"I'm glad you're here, too."

The words hang between us. Neither of us moves. The silence sharpens until it hums.

He shifts closer, his knee brushing mine. The contact is small, almost innocent, but it lingers. Heat seeps into me, making the air heavy.