Page 41 of The Grizzly Situation

Why didI want to help Brent? I mean yeah, he was giving me a job and everything, but he had a staff of people and, if necessary, could probably fly Mary Freaking Poppins in to do the whole nanny thing. But I was desperate to help him out.

“Are yousureabout this?” he asked.

“I am,” I replied. “I like kids.” He turned to Chaim. “Please, stay here. Brent has been thinking about you for weeks. Don’t leave him to worry.”

Chaim’s forehead wrinkled and I worried I’d said something foolish, but then he gave a brisk nod. “Um, sure, okay.”

The sound of soft footfalls came from behind us.

“Daddy?”

His entire demeanor changed in a heartbeat. This was a man who loved his family, that was plain to see.

“What are you doing up? You should be sleeping.”

“I wanted some juice.”

He smiled and took a step. “Okay, I’ll get it for you.”

“Me too, Daddy?”

The second head popped around the corner. They were beautiful kids, looking so much like Brent, but also having soft features that had to have come from their mother. She had been a lucky woman to have a family like this.

“Momma?”

I lifted my head to find both kids staring intently at me.

“Momma!” one of them screamed, then both were on me, hugging me hard.

“Hey, no. This is Uly, the friend I told you about.”

“No, it’s Momma,” they insisted as they tightened their grip in my shirt, tears streaming down their cheeks and snot bubbling from their nose as they gasped for breath.

“Come on, let’s get you some juice and then back to bed.”

“No! We want Momma to do it.”

Brent’s gaze met mine, probably pleading for me to understand. “Let’s get you some juice,” I said softly, then took them by the hands. “Where is the kitchen?”

“Go down the hall and it’ll be on the left about halfway. Uly, I can?—”

“All good, I promise.” I smiled down at the boys who were staring up at me like they were afraid I might disappear. “Show me where you keep your juice, okay?”

They led me down the hall, leaving Brent with Chaim and his family. I had no idea what the hell was going on here, but it was weirding me out big time. The kitchen was enormous. I guess it made sense, especially if Brent did any kind of gathering in the place. Still, one look around reminded me we were on opposite sides of the wealth divide.

“Momma, we love you,” one of the boys said. “Don’t go away again.”

And how the hell was I supposed to answer that? No idea what made them think I was a woman—let alone their mother—but I didn’t want to crush their dreams and hopes like that. Instead, I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher with what looked like orange juice. I sniffed it, confirming it was indeed OJ, then went into the cabinets until I found cups that I thought the boys could handle. I poured some for each of us, then placed the smaller mugs down in front of the kids, who were continuing to stare at me.

“Drink your juice, then you need to go back to bed.”

“But we wanna stay up,” they whined in unison. “We want to see you.”

“How about if I tuck you in and read you a story?”

“Like you used to?” one of them asked, his eyes filled with hope.

“Sure, we’ll read the books you love.”