Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
She nods. “I wouldn’t worry about it. They were both so sweet today. Not an unkind word from either one. They really are such good little people, Dean. You’re doing a great job with them.”
My shoulders tighten. “Thanks, but I can’t take credit for that. I mean, I do my best, obviously, but their mom was the one with them most of the time. Before. Frederica was an amazing mother, right from the start.”
Clover’s brow furrows. “I’m sorry you lost her. It’s so hard. For all of you. I’ve never been married, but I can’t imagine it’s easy to lose someone you loved that much. Even if you weren’t together anymore.”
“Thanks,” I say, my throat tight. “No, it hasn’t been easy, but…” I pull in a breath, willing myself to lighten the tone.
We aren’t here to wade into the emotional deep end. We’re here to decide how best to go our separate ways. Or…not? Maybe it’s crazy, but the longer I sit here, the more firing Clover seems like the wrong call. She really does seem to have bonded with the girls, and they with her, almost instantly. Who knows if we’d get that lucky with another nanny?
“But we’re doing better than we were even a month ago, for sure,” I add. “I think going back to preschool next week and dance classes and the rest of their routine will be good for them.”
She nods. “I agree. Routine is important. And soothing. Especially for kids.”
“Yeah, it is.”
An uncomfortable smile creeps across her face as the silence stretches between us. “So…are you going to fire me or not? Not to be pushy, but the suspense is kind of killing me.”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’m still wrestling with it. But thank you. For your text and telling me more about your mom. I’m sorry you lost her so young. I hate that you had to go through that.”
She nods. “Thanks. It’s not something I share with everyone. I don’t want people to feel sorry for me or assume I’m some broken, motherless creature or something, but…” She shrugs. “But I obviously felt you should know more.”
I frown. “Do people really think that? When you tell them?”
“Sometimes. There’s definitely a change in the way people treat you before and after you share that your mom died when you were three years old.” Her lips hook up on one side. “You’re being a lot more serious and careful than you were before, for example.”
I tip my head in acknowledgement of her point. “But to be fair, we’re having a serious conversation.”
“It doesn’t have to be serious,” she says. “Look, I know—”
The coffee maker finishes its cycle with a long, angry hiss. Clover starts to rise, but I motion for her to stay put. “I’ll get it. Sugar and no cream for you, right?”
“Yes, please,” she says, adding in teasing voice, “I like my coffee like I like my men, dark and sweet.”
I arch a brow. “I think we both know that’s not always true. Can’t get much whiter than my pale, white boy ass.”
She grins. “I don’t know. I’ve seen paler.” Sobering, she adds, “And you were never ‘my man,’ Dean. We made out. Once. And it was great, but we already decided it wasn’t going to happen again. So…I’m not sure I see the problem here.”
I grunt and proceed to fetch the coffees. I also like mine dark and sweet, though I can’t say that’s how I like my women. Before Frederica, who was half Latina, I dated all over the racial and ethnic spectrum. I don’t think I have a “type.”
All I know is that right now, I’m finding tall girls with wild, curly hair and big brown eyes pretty damned tempting.
This one, in particular…
But if she truly doesn’t feel the same way, if this is just a “me” problem, then…
I return to the table, delivering Clover’s mug before sitting and wrapping my hands around my own. I’m definitely appreciating something warm and solid to hold onto as I ask, “So, you don’t think the fact that you came on my fingers the other night is going to be a problem?”
She exhales a startled laugh, her cheeks flushing pink before she says, “Nope, not a problem at all. We just won’t talk about that again.”
“Or think about it,” I agree.
“We’ll pretend it never happened,” she confirms, flashing a dazzling smile as she lifts her mug in a toast. I lift mine, too, a little less enthusiastically. “See how easy that was?”
She drinks.
I nod, but don’t sip from my mug. “I think that’s the only way this works. We seriously just…wipe it from our memories and start fresh. The girls are already so attached to you, after just a morning. I can’t imagine how upset they would be if we got a month into this and awkwardness between the two of us led to you wanting to leave. You are open to staying longer than a month if things work out, right? Sorry, I probably should have asked that first.”