Sexually Deprived Nanny, 0. Hot Dad, 1.
“Daniel’s a lot more than his looks,” Liv says. “He’s been through hell, and he’s a really good guy. A loyal friend, an amazing dad.”
“Plus that night at the bar, you guys had enough chemistry to burn down a city,” Jules comments.
“Chemistry like oil and water. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
I reach for the pitcher and pour myself half a glass. I can still get up in time for Andy.
Have I thought about the ways I’d seduce Daniel if I thought I had a shot?
Sure.
Slip into his bedroom after my shower.
Grab those broad shoulders when he’s changing.
Lean over and kiss the smile off his face.
But I need this job. And even if I thought he’d changed his mind since the night I hit on him, sleeping with the boss is a bad idea.
“Don’t you guys have any news?” I prompt to change the subject.
Jules tugs on her hair. “Things are good with Tess, but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like if I fall asleep first at night, she’s going to lie awake coming up with reasons this was a bad idea.” She rolls her eyes as if she knows this line of thinking is destructive but can’t stop it. “This is what I wanted. But I miss you guys. I never have to worry you’re going to decide I’m not enough.”
Liv reaches across and squeezes Jules’ hand. “Never.”
“We’re ride or die, get it? Even if you and her aren’t forever, we are.”
She nods slowly. “How are things with Sawyer?”
Liv’s face scrunches up.
“He’s in New York for work this week and I miss him. It’s weird being in that house all alone. Strange how you come to depend on someone so fast. You get used to how they smell, their smile…but more than that, just having them in your space. When they’re gone there’s a big hole.”
“I’m sure there’s a big hole,” I say dryly.
Liv laughs. “You know what I mean. Maybe I’ll come over and hang out.”
“You should.”
“You know we’ll always be friends, right? No matter where we are or where we live or who we’re with.”
My chest aches. “I know.”
8
DANIEL
“Daniel, it’s Nina. Just checking that you’re still coming?”
“Coming?” I echo.
I’m struck with the sinking feeling I’ve shown up to a test without studying.
“We asked all chaperones to be here an hour early this morning. The bus leaves at ten.”
Shit.
Andy’s field trip.
I look up from my desk in my campus office, where I’ve been since seven thirty this morning to get some work done before my first class.
“I said I’d be there.” It’s a question.
“Last month, when we arranged it.”
It’s not in my calendar, even though I vaguely recall confirming.
I can rearrange my schedule.
But when I open my calendar to look at the meetings, it’s not good. I have a tenure meeting with more senior faculty I can’t move.
“It’s okay,” she says, filling the silence. “We always have extra volunteers for this trip. It’s a crowd favorite.”
I wasn’t going for the other kids, I want to say. I was going for my kid.
“Another time,” I promise.
“Of course.”
I click off and set the phone on my desk before shifting back in my chair to stare up at the ceiling.
Andy’s been talking about the museum for weeks, and I forgot.
My wife wouldn’t have done this.
We both had careers, but she would’ve made sure one of us planned ahead to go. Because parenting was important to both of us.
She’s not here to remind me.
Still, the past week has gone better than I could’ve imagined.
Having the extra set of hands is a huge relief.
When Kat went out with friends, it was the first night she wasn’t home since she started.
After dark, Andy in bed, the house was quiet without her.
I rub the ring on my finger.
The photo on the corner of my desk is the three of us.
You’re doing fine, Daniel, she would have said in her laughing voice.
If you’re going to miss your kid’s trip, get some damned work done.
I do.
It’s after dinner when I finish up and head across campus.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, the committee meeting productive.
I’m practically racing home to open the door.
I’m ready to do penance for screwing up and missing the trip. Whatever it takes to make this up to my kid.
He’ll be sad. Not sulking, but droopy eyed.
Fuck. I hate not only seeing him like that but knowing he’s in pain is worse.
As I reach the front porch, I hear squealing inside through the door.
I scramble in my pocket for my keys, shoving inside.
I race down the hall to the living room.
What I see makes me pull up, dumbfounded.
Andy is stretched backward in some bridge yoga move.
His nanny is folded over the opposite way, hands extended to either side and one foot lunging under Andy’s back.
Beneath them is a colorful mat.
“We found it in the garage,” Kat calls from under her armpit.
“Twister?”
“We had the best time at the museum!” Andy says cheerfully. “Kat beat our teacher at one of the name-the-animal games.”
It takes me a moment to catch up. “You went with them.”
The well of emotion in my chest is intense and conflicted.
“I didn’t have class.” She shrugs, at least I think she does.
Andy collapses his bridge in a grinning pile, and Kat straightens too.
She reaches for something on the coffee table, moved out of the way to leave room for their game, then crosses to me.
“You should’ve asked,” I mutter.
Kat’s unfazed. “Close your eyes and hold your nose.”
“And stick out your tongue,” my son adds.
It’s two against one, and half of the attack is my own offspring.
I comply.
Moments later I feel something against my bare forearm—sticky and damp.
“What the…”
She grabs tighter as I blink my eyes open to see a washcloth pressed to my skin.
“Don’t move,” she warns. “Andy? Five, four, three…”
He counts down with her. “Two, one!”
She withdraws the cloth and the slip of paper beneath it with a flourish, revealing lines on my skin.
Andy shrieks with laughter. “She got you, Daddy!”
It’s a temporary tattoo of a dog.
Ridiculous and rainbow colored.
“I got a frog!” Andy declares, pointing to his bicep. “Kat got a cat!”
He giggles hysterically.
“How long do these last?” I ask.
“Seven to ten days.”
“My undergrads will roast me for this,” I say under my breath.
“That’s just a bonus.” Kat grins, not holding back her satisfaction.