The Nanny

Did you have fun at Cassie’s friend’s house last night?”

Sophie nods around a bite of her Frosted Flakes. “She’s so weird.”

“Weird?” Aiden looks at me curiously. “Is weird good?”

I nod. “In Sophie-speak . . . I think it is.”

“Ah,” Aiden chuckles. “Of course.”

It’s a normal Sunday morning. We woke up as usual, we’re eating breakfast as usual, and everything seems easy and sweet and worry-free. And it is, mostly. Except for me.

I keep wondering if he’ll notice that I have a hard time looking at him, if at any given moment he’ll notice the way heat rushes into my cheeks and my ears when I do it for too long. Every time it happens, every time my gaze settles on him and remains there for longer than a handful of seconds, I remember everything that Aiden has seen, how much he doesn’t even realize he’s seen . . . all of me. I remember hushed conversations and sweet, filthy words all murmured in a dark room that he probably doesn’t remember.

All that time I wondered what he looked like, and now that I have a mouth to match the words, hands to match all the things he said he wanted to do with them . . . it’s hard to think about much else when I look at him.

“What do you think, Cassie?”

I blink back at Aiden, spoon halfway to my mouth, having not heard any of the last few seconds of their conversation. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked Sophie what she wanted to do for her birthday,” he tells me. “It’s on Thursday.”

Sophie pushes up from her barstool. “I want to go to Disneyland!”

“Oh wow,” I say with surprise. “Disneyland?”

“Pretty lofty goals with my schedule,” Aiden chimes in bemusedly.

I laugh. “Yeah, how would you swing that?”

“Come on,” Sophie whines. “Please?”

“It might be hard to do with how busy the restaurant has been,” Aiden says woefully. “Maybe in a month or so?”

Sophie’s face falls, her face turning to her cereal bowl as she pushes her spoon through the milk dejectedly. “Oh.”

“Sophie,” Aiden sighs. “You know I would love to—”

“Mom was supposed to take me,” she interrupts quietly. “For my birthday last year.”

I meet Aiden’s eyes, seeing the guilt there as he gives me a helpless look. I shrug, not knowing what to say, nodding toward Sophie in what I hope is an encouraging gesture. Aiden heaves out a sigh before running his fingers through his hair, reaching to pat Sophie’s head.

“I guess we can . . . make it work.”

Sophie brightens immediately. “Really?”

“I think I can manage a day off,” he tells her. “Anaheim is an hour’s drive . . . We could spend a day at the park and then come back the next day before work . . . I’ll figure it out.” He shoots her a stern look. “But you’ll have to ask your teacher if they can send home your schoolwork for the days you’ll miss.”

“I can run in and talk to them when I take her to school tomorrow,” I offer.

Aiden flashes me a grateful smile that makes my stomach flip. Curses. “That would be great.”

“And Cassie can come, too, right?” Sophie asks expectantly.

Aiden and I both look at each other, Aiden looking unsure. “I don’t know if Cassie wants to do that . . . ?”

“She wants to come,” Sophie asserts, looking at me. “Don’t you?”

“I . . . I would hate to intrude on your family time.”

Sophie pouts. “It won’t be as fun without you.”

“I . . .” I glance at Aiden, looking for help. “I don’t know if—”

“You’re welcome to come,” Aiden assures me. “If you want to.” He gives me a shy sort of smile. “It wouldn’t be as fun without you.”

“Oh.” I can tell by the look on Sophie’s face there is no way to turn this down. “Well . . . if you’re sure that you want me to.”

“Maybe we could sneak away Wednesday morning?” Aiden pulls out his phone to check something. “It’s a day early, but midweek is usually our slowest time. Probably be better. Would that work? Do you have any plans?”

“Sounds perfect,” I say tightly, calculating cost in my head. “If you’ll tell me how much the tickets are—”

“Oh, no,” Aiden says with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of it. I can make reservations tonight on my break.”

“I couldn’t let you—”

“I want to,” he says firmly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

Sophie shakes her dad’s arm. “Can Aunt Iris come too?”

“Oh, I—” Aiden looks unsure. “I don’t know if she’d want to.” He shares a look with me, and again, I nod encouragingly. Aiden gives Sophie a thin smile. “I’ll call and ask if she would like to.”

Sophie is already chirping with excitement, her cereal forgotten as she asks me if she can go call Wanda and tell her about the trip. Aiden looks confused after I give her my cell phone and she runs off with it.

“I cannot stress enough how much she and Wanda hit it off.”

Aiden smiles. “Clearly.”

“They’re practically best friends now,” I joke. “I am being edged out as we speak.”

“I’m glad you took her,” he says. “That’s all she’s talked about this morning. It seems like she had a great time.”

“Wait till you meet Wanda,” I laugh. “You’ll get it.”

“Something to look forward to,” he notes. He looks worried then. “Is inviting Iris a terrible idea?”

I shrug. “Uncomfortable, maybe, but not terrible. It could be a good opportunity for you two to bury the hatchet.”

“Right,” he says absently, nodding. “You’re right.”

I take another bite of my cereal if only so I don’t have to look at him anymore, every second looking at his face meaning another few beats that my heart rate picks up. Was it this awkward before? Stupid question. Of course it was. It’s definitely more so now that I know he’s seen me naked though.

“I haven’t properly thanked you,” he goes on.

I peek up at him. “For what?”

“Just . . . for sticking it out with us. I mean, with Sophie, that is. She loves you.”

This part is easy, no anxiety attached to my feelings for the little girl. “I love her too. She’s such a great kid.”

Aiden nods, looking relieved. “I’m glad it was you that answered the ad.”

“Oh, well . . .” I swallow, feeling that familiar heat at the tips of my ears. “So am I. It’s been great.”

“We’re both lucky to have you, Cassie,” he goes on, making me flush further. “I hope you know that.”

He’s just happy you’re so good with his kid. Don’t get beside yourself.

“I . . . thank you,” I manage, hoping that my hair is at least covering my neck, which is growing warmer with every passing second. “Really.”

“I hope you’re still . . . happy here? You’ve seemed sort of quiet lately.”

Well, shit.

“Have I?”

“Maybe I’m reading too much into it,” he says, shrugging. “It feels like you’ve been . . . I don’t know. I thought maybe you were upset with me.”

“What?” This takes me by surprise. “I’m not upset with you.”

“Oh. It’s just that . . . it feels like you’ve been avoiding me since we talked.”

“I’m not upset,” I assure him. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”

Aiden frowns, something in his expression seeming like he wants to ask something more but can’t quite figure out how. There’s a wrinkle at his brow and a set to his mouth that doesn’t give me the slightest insight into what he’s thinking, and I worry in this moment that he somehow knows what I’m thinking, that he can see right through my flimsy lies to the truth.

There’s no way he could know. You’re fine.

“I really am sorry,” he says. “For dumping all of that on you.”

“Seriously, it’s okay.” I try for a smile, but as nervous as I feel right now, I can only imagine how forced it looks. “I think it’s a side effect of caring about Sophie.”

“Right.” He nods. “I hope you know how much I . . . appreciate you.”

I hold my breath.

It’s just because of the job you’re doing. Stop reading into it.

“I’m glad,” I manage. “I’m happy here. With you guys.”

There’s a moment where neither of us says anything, and I know I should avert my eyes, that it’s weird to sit here and keep staring into his, but the problem is . . . he doesn’t look away either. Once again I find myself wishing I could know what he’s thinking.

“Good,” he says finally, his expression still hard to read. “I’m glad.”

I’m opening my mouth to say something, exactly what, I’m not sure, but Sophie chooses that moment to rejoin us, and it ends up not being an issue.

“Wanda says to take pictures,” Sophie tells me. “And to bring her back a shot glass.”

Aiden’s brow quirks. “A shot glass?”

“Yep.” Sophie nods. “It’s this tiny cup thing. I don’t know what you drink out of them though. They wouldn’t tell me. She has one from Alaska!”

“She has one from almost everywhere,” I chuckle.

“And she’s seen a moose,” Sophie says.

“I know,” Aiden says amusedly. “You’ve told me about the moose. Several times.”

Sophie hands me my phone back, looking at me expectantly. “So what are we going to do today?”

“Well,” I start. “I thought maybe we could go back to that park you liked. That was fun, right? It’s supposed to be a nice day today.”

“Yes! That sounds awesome.” She looks at her dad excitedly. “Can you come? Please? Just for a little while? I can swing super high. You’ve gotta see.”

“Oh, I . . .” Aiden looks at me helplessly, and I can only shrug. “Yeah,” he sighs, and I can tell by his expression that this is going to put him behind, but strangely that makes it that much sweeter. “I’d love to see the park. Why don’t you run upstairs and get dressed while I shower?”

Sophie squeals with glee before she makes a beeline for the stairs, Aiden hanging his head wearily before he tilts his face back up to meet mine. “I have to say . . . that smile does make the shitty night I’m going to have worth it.”

“Super dad,” I praise.

The corner of his mouth turns up, and I think it’s moments like these that make me the most unsure. Seeing him so carefree, with his easy smile and his pretty eyes and his hair still sticking up in places in the same way that Sophie’s does when she wakes up . . . it makes it that much harder to pretend I’m not more invested than I should be. That I’m not wondering what his hair might feel like under my fingers or what his smile might feel like against my skin.

“I guess I’d better go hop in the shower,” he says, sliding off his barstool.

I give him a tight nod as he heads off to the stairs, not relaxing until he’s out of sight and I’m alone. I blow out a breath, letting my face drop to the granite countertop and letting it cool the flush at my cheeks.

I’m not thinking about Aiden in the shower. Absolutely not.

I don’t know who is having more fun on the playground—Aiden or Sophie. The last hour has been filled with her squeals and his laughter, Aiden satisfying her every whim, be it pushing her on the swing or following her up the jungle gym ladder that is considerably too small for him, his above-average frame trying to maneuver through each section very entertaining to watch.

I keep my distance on the bench at the edge, content to watch them spend time together. Every so often, Aiden smiles at me like we’re sharing a secret, something that feels ironic considering we are sharing a secret, he just doesn’t realize. I don’t know how long it is before he plops down on the bench beside me while Sophie busies herself on the merry-go-round with a few other kids out this morning, his cheeks flushed and his breath labored.

“I think I’m getting old,” he laughs.

“Spare me.” I roll my eyes. “You’re barely over thirty.”

“Thirty-two in four months,” he points out. “Practically over the hill.”

“I’ll be sure to start picking out your room at the nursing home.”

Aiden gives me an expression of mock relief. “Well, that’s one less thing to worry about, I guess.”

“It’s my master plan,” I say seriously. “Edge you right out of the house and raise Sophie as my supervillain sidekick.”

“Good luck with that one,” Aiden snorts. “Sophie fights me to brush her teeth some mornings. Something tells me she won’t have the patience for organized crime.”

“Well, shit.” I shake my head. “There goes my five-year plan.”

The sun is climbing higher in the sky, and Aiden turns up his face, covering his eyes as he frowns. “Maybe I should have brought Sophie some sunscreen.”

“She’ll be getting hungry soon, anyway. She’ll be fine.”

“You’re right. I’ll let her play a little longer, and then we can go. I don’t want her to burn.”

“Did you know that pigs can get sunburns?”

Aiden somehow looks incredulous and amused all at once. “Where do you keep these, exactly?”

“You got me.” I raise my fist to knock at my own skull. “They’re probably taking up all the extra space I should be saving for something more important. Like tax law, maybe.”

I notice his mouth quirk from the corner of my eye, and I have to bite back my own smile to keep from looking too giddy. We both sit quietly for a time, watching Sophie enjoy herself, and I don’t even realize I’m still grinning to myself until I catch Aiden watching me out of the corner of my eye.

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “She just looks so happy.”

He’s still watching me, that same unreadable something in his expression that has me wishing I could read his thoughts. “No, it’s . . . there’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I know I overstepped when we last talked, but . . . it really has made a difference, I think. Her being able to spend more time with you.”

“You didn’t,” he counters, finally averting his gaze to watch Sophie. “Overstep. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“Still. I’m sure it’s annoying for someone who’s barely been around a month acting like she knows everything.”

Aiden laughs quietly. “It’s so weird. It feels like it’s been longer than that.”

“Really?”

“Maybe it’s because you and Sophie hit it off so well.”

“She never did put dirt in my bed, at least.”

He smiles softly, still watching Sophie. “I’m just glad you’re not angry with me.”

“I swear, I never was.”

I am trying to pretend that I’m not sneaking glances at him, not noticing the way the wind ruffles his hair or the way his jeans fit or how his dark gray Henley hugs his chest—but it’s hard to do that when Aiden keeps catching me, stealing glances himself.

“Good,” he says finally. “It just felt weird. Like you were avoiding me.”

“Yeah, well . . . you avoided me first.”

Aiden’s face splits into a grin. “We aren’t very good at handling our emotions, are we?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Avoiding awkward situations is the absolute best way of handling them, in my experience.”

“So you admit it was an awkward experience,” he teases.

More than you can ever know, I think bitterly.

“I mean, I’ve never had a meaningful conversation with my boss while he was half-naked, so I think I handled it okay, all things considered.”

“Yeah . . . I’m not sure what led me to believe my shirt was the best option for cleaning up my beer.”

“There were perfectly good hand towels in the drawer.”

“I was very tired, okay?”

It’s a moment that feels too easy, one that makes me almost forget all the other shit going on in my head that makes me anxious if I dwell on it too long. Does he have to be so fucking nice? It makes it a hell of a lot harder to do the smart thing and pack all my feelings away.

I decide it’s best to change the subject. “So . . . Disneyland?”

“Yeah,” Aiden sighs. “I can already hear my boss bitching.”

“But just think of how happy she’ll be,” I point out.

“You’re right,” he says. “She’s going to lose her mind.”

“Have you ever been?”

He makes a face. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh boy. This is going to be extra fun.”

“How badly am I going to regret this?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there to handle all the hard stuff.”

“The hard stuff?”

“Oh, you know . . . taking pictures with the princesses, Sleeping Beauty Castle—you realize she’s going to want to be dressed up, right? How do you feel about roller coasters?”

Aiden looks like he might be feeling queasy. “What are the chances she’ll want to spend a good chunk of the day at the Star Wars attraction?”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” I laugh. “I think you’re in for a lot of princess-adjacent fun. Maybe we can catch a parade!” The look on Aiden’s face only makes me laugh harder. “This is going to be so much fun.”

“I’m glad you’re looking forward to it,” he mumbles.

I reach over to pat his hand. “I’ll make sure you don’t get lost, don’t worry.”

It had been an innocent gesture, placing my hand over his, but when my laughter dies down, I notice it’s still resting there, and Aiden’s staring at where my hand is touching his in a way that makes me lose my train of thought. I don’t know how long we stay like that before I remember myself, clearing my throat before pulling it away as quickly as I can without seeming weird.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says too quickly. “I’m glad you’re coming.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, not looking at me. “For Sophie, I mean. I’m sure she’ll enjoy herself a lot more with you there.”

“Oh. Well . . .” For Sophie. Why does that sting? It’s the only reason I’m here, after all. “I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”

Aiden clears his throat. “I called Iris.”

“You did?”

“She can’t get anyone to cover the store for two days,” he tells me. “Since we’re getting an Airbnb after.”

Please don’t remind me, I think woefully. Although, why sharing a rental with Aiden makes me squirm when we live together is beyond me.

“That’s too bad,” I say, meaning it, weirdly. “I know Sophie will be bummed.”

Aiden nods. “She’s going to come by before work on Friday.”

“Well, that’s good at least. Was it weird? The phone call?”

“I . . .” He purses his lips for a moment before shaking his head. “She sounded . . . grateful. That I asked. It might be one of the easier conversations we’ve had in the last year.”

“Maybe she sees that you’re trying to meet her halfway.”

“Maybe.” He glances over at me. “Thank you for suggesting it.”

“Ah, well . . .” I try to look nonchalant. “Just looking out for Sophie.”

And you, I don’t say.

I think maybe we both sort of run out of things to say then; a quiet settling over us both as we watch Sophie, who has moved on to the monkey bars. We stay like that until a woman pushing a stroller passes us to take the bench next to us, huffing as she drops a diaper bag on the ground beside her. “Do you guys mind if I sit here?”

“No, of course not,” Aiden tells her. “Please.”

The woman looks like she’s a few days short of a good night’s sleep, her hair tossed into a messy bun and her eyes lined with dark circles. “Thank God for the park, right?” She laughs as she fusses over the baby girl’s bow in the stroller. “I’d lose my mind if I couldn’t bring her brother here to burn off some of his energy.”

I lean over to get a better glimpse of her baby. “She’s adorable. How old?”

“Six months,” she tells us. “She’s a handful, but at least she’s stationary.” She nods her head toward a dark-haired little boy currently climbing up the ladder to the jungle gym. “That one never seems to get tired.” She gives us a kind smile then. “Which one is yours?”

“My daughter,” Aiden offers, pointing toward the monkey bars. “She’s over there.”

“She’s a cutie.”

Aiden smiles with gratitude. “Thank you.”

“You guys make such a cute little family,” she gushes, my cheeks instantly feeling warmer.

“Oh, we aren’t—”

“Daniel! What did I say?” She gives us an apologetic look. “Sorry. I need to go make sure he doesn’t break something.”

She leaves us there, pushing her stroller in a hurry to check on her son, who is now hanging upside down on the ladder, and when I finally find the courage to look over at Aiden, he looks as embarrassed as I do.

“I guess it was bound to happen,” he says with a shy sort of laugh. “No big deal.”

“Right.” I reach to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind my ear, looking down at the concrete. “It’s ridiculous though.”

Aiden cocks his head at me from the side. “How do you mean?”

“I mean . . .” I think, in my attempt to make things less awkward, I am digging a deeper hole into that very thing. “Well, obviously you’re out of my league. On a whole other planet, really. So I doubt many people would make the same mistake.”

“You think I’m out of your league?”

Jesus Christ, what have I done? Is it still too late to run away?

“I mean . . . objectively speaking, it’s obvious that you’re—”

“I don’t think it’s that obvious,” he says flatly. “Objectively speaking.”

The breath I’d been about to take gets trapped in my lungs, and when I find the courage to peek up at Aiden, his expression seems wholly serious.

“What?”

“If anything,” Aiden says, “you’d be out of mine.”

My mouth parts in surprise. “What? There’s no way that—”

“Cassie, you have to know . . .” He blinks then, seeming to realize the content of the conversation we’re having. “Okay. I think maybe I’m the one overstepping now.”

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to—”

“I just don’t think you should ever imply that you aren’t good enough for someone,” he says matter-of-factly. “Least of all me.”

I have no idea what to say to that, left sitting on the bench with my mouth open and scrambling for some sort of response. Is he saying that he is in my league? Like he’s considered it? Or is he just being nice? I’m too afraid to ask; everything about this conversation is screaming dangerous.

We both stare at each other for what feels like much longer than the ten seconds it more than likely is. I notice the way Aiden’s eyes dip to my mouth, the way his throat bobs with a swallow and his chest rises and falls heavier than it did a moment ago.

“Hey, Dad! Come push me!”

Aiden snaps his head away, still breathing harder than he should be as he finds Sophie waving at him from the other side of the playground. He looks from her to me to her again, finally shaking his head before he stands up from the bench.

“Sorry. That was . . . I shouldn’t have—” He takes a deep breath through his nostrils, only to expel it from his mouth. “Just forget I said anything.”

I say nothing, because I have no idea what to begin to even say, watching his back as he walks away from me. Over and over, my mind is picking apart and piecing together every single thing that he just said, to try to find the meaning of it, coming to all sorts of conclusions, each one making less sense than the last. Did Aiden really just tell me in some strange roundabout way that I am well within his league? That he is in mine?

And what the hell does it mean if he is?

It takes a long time for me to move from the bench as my thoughts race, knowing that I will be doing the absolute opposite of what he’d urged me to do.

Just forget I said anything.

Right. Fat chance of that.