The Nanny

Sophie doesn’t say a word the entire ride home. I’ve told her three times since we left how sorry I am that I didn’t answer her call; I can’t even describe how much of a failure as a father I feel knowing that she spent hours on her own without anyone to comfort her. It’s left me with a pit in my stomach since the moment I saw her sitting in that hallway looking more desolate than I’ve ever seen her.

She’s quiet when we get home, too, trudging up two flights of stairs toward her room while claiming to be tired, and I war with myself on whether or not I should give her space or beg her to talk to me. At this point I have no idea which course of action will make things better, if they will at all, but in the end I decide she’s spent enough time on her own today.

I follow her into her bedroom and help her take off her shoes as she sits at the edge of her bed, staring down at me with unseeing eyes. I sit beside her after I help her settle under the covers, noticing her dark circles.

“Sophie, I’m so sorry,” I tell her again, wishing I had some way to make this right. “I should have been there. I feel horrible that you had to go through that alone.”

Sophie shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, Soph,” I stress, leaning to press my hand to her hair. “I’m supposed to protect you. It’s my job to make sure you don’t ever feel like this, and I didn’t do a good job. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I never mess up like this again.”

“I’m not mad at you,” she tells me quietly.

I shake my head. “I would be mad at me, if I were you.”

“I’m not,” she assures me. “Promise.”

“But you’re not okay,” I urge. “Talk to me. Let me help.”

She nuzzles into her pillow, shutting her eyes and squeezing them tight as tears collect there. “Wanda was hurt,” she says pitifully. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought she was gonna die.”

“Oh, honey.” I carefully crawl over her, settling behind her in her bed and pulling her back against my chest to hold her tight. She turns to bury her face there, and I rest my cheek against her hair. “You did amazing, Soph. Today was scary. Way scarier than anything you should ever have to go through. But you did great. So great. You saved Wanda’s life. Do you understand?”

I can’t see her face now, but I feel her nodding against my chest. “Is she okay?”

“They told us she’s going to be fine after some rest,” I tell her. “Cassie is with her right now.”

“Do you think Cassie is mad at me?”

“What?” I turn my face down to look at her. “Of course she isn’t. Cassie could never be mad at you. She loves you.”

Sophie’s voice is softer now. “I don’t want Cassie to get mad and leave.”

“Sophie.” I feel a squeezing sensation in my chest. “Is that what’s got you so worried? That’s not going to happen.”

“You promise?”

“I’m going to do my very best to make sure that never happens.”

“I love Cassie too,” she whispers into my shirt.

I close my eyes as I rub her back, leaving soothing circles there to keep her calm and comfortable. It takes a while for her breathing to even out, but I can tell when she drifts off to sleep, her body going limp in my arms as the tension of the morning finally gets the best of her. I keep my arms around her even after she falls asleep, taking advantage of this quiet moment as I think about our exchange.

I can’t imagine what Sophie felt when she was alone with Wanda—unable to reach me or Cassie and not having any idea what to do. The panic she must have felt leaves me a mess inside, racked with guilt and outright shame for not having been there for her. Especially with how amazing last night was, how happy I was up until the moment I saw all of the missed calls. Things felt fucking perfect up until that part. Now I just feel like shit.

There’s an additional guilt on top of everything else for having left Cassie at the hospital, but I hadn’t known what else to do. I’m sure that Cassie understands how much Sophie needed me, how distracted I was by everything going on—but it doesn’t ease the guilt.

And Iris. Fucking Iris.

She’s never liked me, not when Rebecca got pregnant, not when we tried to make things work, not when we decided we were better apart—especially not when my life got so hectic after I got my current job. Everything had only gotten a thousand times worse after Rebecca passed and Sophie came to me. Now it’s like Iris’s entire life’s mission is to prove me an unfit parent. And here I am, having hand delivered the knife she’s been looking for to stab in my back.

What a fucking mess.

I keep thinking about Cassie’s face at the hospital—her crestfallen look telling me that she was blaming herself for Iris going off the rails. I should have done more to assure her, I know that, but with Sophie looking nearly catatonic, all I could think about was getting her home and safe and herself again. I plan to thoroughly apologize to Cassie whenever she makes it back. Not that I have any idea when that will be, since her phone is dead.

I love Cassie too.

It’s the only part of this whole mess giving me any level of happiness. Sophie’s quiet admission. The way Cassie loves my daughter, the way Sophie loves her back—it makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Makes me imagine all sorts of things I have no business imagining with Cassie after our short time together, even with our strange shared history. Still. I imagine them all the same.

I pull Sophie tighter, shutting out the buzzing in my head. There’s time to figure all of this out later, preferably on a day when we all haven’t been put through the ringer. I close my eyes, yawning as I silently assure myself.

We have plenty of time.

I don’t know when I dozed off, but Sophie is still sleeping soundly beside me in her bed when I wake, so I roll away gently to let her keep resting. I yawn as I scratch the back of my neck, grabbing my phone from her bedside table where I’d stashed it to check the time. It’s after lunch, but there is still nothing from Cassie. I wonder if that means she’s still at the hospital.

I frown as I tuck it inside the pocket of my jeans, not liking the fact that I haven’t heard from her. I know her phone was dead when we left, but I was hoping she might call from the room at least to give an update. I imagine she’s busy with Wanda, telling myself she’ll check in when she has a spare moment. I decide to distract myself with lunch while I wait, figuring I can let Sophie sleep until I’ve whipped something up, at least.

I close her bedroom door quietly behind me when I leave her room, stepping carefully down the hall so as not to make any noise. I’m halfway down the stairs before I notice anything amiss, pausing only three steps from the landing when I’m surprised by the sight of Cassie on my couch, her head in her hands.

“Cassie?”

She looks up at me immediately, her eyes red and her face haggard, like she’s been crying. Seeing her so out of sorts makes me uneasy, and I hurry down the last few steps to cross the living room.

“Hey,” I say soothingly, sitting beside her on the couch. “When did you get back? How is Wanda?”

She’s looking at me strangely, her eyes lingering over the lines of my face even as her lip quivers. She sniffles once as she nods, everything about it stiff.

“She’s fine,” she tells me. “They’re going to keep her for a few days for observation.”

I sigh in relief. “That’s good news, right? You knew she was too tough to let something like this get the best of her.”

“Yeah,” she answers quietly. “She’ll outlive us both.”

Something about her flat tone is unsettling, and it’s obvious that something is still weighing on her. “Is something else bothering you? What’s wrong?”

“We—” She swallows, clearing her throat like she’s having trouble. “We need to talk about what happened at the hospital. With Iris.”

Shit.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I huff out a frustrated breath. “Fuck, Cassie. I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have ever spoken to you like that. I should have done more, but everything was so—”

“It’s not your fault,” she says urgently. She reaches her hand to lay it over mine against my knee. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know I couldn’t have predicted how this morning would play out, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel terrible about the things she said to you. I hate that you got dragged into my bullshit.” I try to smile then, mostly because I’m desperate to see some expression on her face other than the melancholy nothing she’s giving me now. “Strange ending to a great night.”

She doesn’t smile; in fact, her eyes water as if she might cry again.

“Cassie.” I lean in to cup her face with my palm. “Please talk to me. Tell me why you’re crying.”

“I just . . . I don’t think I realized how hard this was going to be.”

My brow furrows. “Do you mean Wanda? She’s going to be fine. In a few days she’ll be back home and everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

“I’m going to stay at her place,” she tells me.

This catches me off guard, and it isn’t until this exact moment that I notice the duffel bag sitting on the other side of her, next to the couch.

“Okay . . . sure.” I nod encouragingly, pushing my own feelings aside, wanting to put hers first right now. “Of course. I’m sure Wanda is going to need some help when she comes home. You should take all the time you need with her.”

A lone tear slips over her lashes to trail down her cheek, and I notice it then, what I haven’t seen until this very second. I haven’t noticed the way she’s looking at me like she’s never going to see me again.

I feel something stinging and sharp in my chest.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone, Cassie?”

Her lower lip trembles, and that pain in my chest becomes an ache, like I need to breathe but am not able to get any air.

“Cassie,” I try, my voice coming out wrong. “Please don’t—”

“I can’t do it, Aiden,” she says desolately. “I can’t be something used to hurt you. Or Sophie, for that matter. I just can’t.”

“Cassie, what Iris said—it’s going to be okay. She’s just angry right now. She’ll calm down. I’m not going to let anything happen.”

“It already has,” she chokes out. “And it’s going to get worse. They’re always going to point to how this all started. They’re going to use me like a trump card. I can’t be that. You won’t want me to be that. I’ll end up as a burden to both of you.”

I can’t comprehend what she’s saying. How can she actually think that her leaving could be a good thing? Just the thought of her walking out my door right now makes me feel like I’m swallowing water far beneath the surface, struggling to swim upward but suspended far below. It feels like drowning.

“Cassie. Let’s talk about this. It’s been a stressful morning, and you’re upset. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. If we—”

“I’m not going to change my mind, Aiden.”

I’m months shy of being thirty-two, and I have never in my adult life felt as helpless as I do right now. I can feel her slipping through my fingers, and it feels unfair, unreal—I’ve barely even had her at all, and now I’m going to lose her.

“You’re really leaving. Aren’t you?”

She nods, and I feel something breaking inside.

“I’ve got some of my stuff in that bag”—she nods toward the duffel that I’d like to toss out the window—“and I’ll send someone after the rest.”

She’s going to disappear. Again.

“Sophie,” I say dazedly. “She’s asleep. I should go—”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I think it would be easier on her if I didn’t say goodbye.”

I feel something hot at my neck then, pushing up from the couch as my sadness and my frustration collide with anger. “Easier for who, Cassie? You? Or her?”

“Both,” she whispers, fresh tears springing up in her eyes. She rises from the couch then, hardly even looking at me. “It’ll be easier on her if she hates me.”

“Do you actually believe that? She loves you. She’s the happiest I have seen her since her mom died, and it’s because of you. If you disappear, it’s going to absolutely wreck her.”

Not just her, I want to scream. It’s not just her.

“I know,” she whispers dejectedly.

“You said you weren’t going anywhere,” I remind her. “Why did you let me tell her about us if you were going to leave?”

“I’m sorry,” is all she says, reaching for her duffel. “I wish there was some other way.”

“There is.” I reach for her shoulders, turning her towards me before I hold her face in my hands. “Stay. Figure it out with me. I just found you. Don’t throw it all away before we even have a chance. Please, Cassie.”

Her eyes dip to my mouth as her lips tremble, and I feel my restraint crumbling away. She doesn’t stop me as I lean in, and I hear her soft intake of air seconds before my mouth touches hers. The kiss is wet from her tears, only making me feel more desperate, and I try to pull her closer, try to bridge the gap between us that feels like it’s widening by the second.

There’s a moment when she leans in, when I think maybe she’ll fall into my arms and forget this entire conversation—but it’s fleeting, slipping through my fingers just like she is. She pulls away, keeping her eyes shut tight as her fingers wrap around my wrists to gently pry them from her face. She steps away from me, and it’s only a foot of space between us, but it feels like miles.

“I’m sorry.”

Two words, but they’re enough to rip me to shreds. But I’m not ignorant to the look in her eyes. I can see how much this is killing her. How much she doesn’t want to go. How can I let her go, when she’s looking at me like she is? Like she wants me to hold her?

“You don’t want to go,” I say desperately. “You know you don’t. I’m not going to let you walk away for some bullshit reason. I need you.”

She sucks in a breath, eyes widening as her resolve seems to waver. Her mouth closes just to open again, like she’s trying to form words but can’t remember how. Her next breath is shaky, her lips pressing together and her eyes turning to the floor, and for one second I think I’ve gotten through to her. That she won’t leave.

“Aiden, I . . . it’s not just the Iris thing.”

“Then what is? Whatever it is, we can work it out together. You just have to give me the chance to—”

“This is all too much for me,” she says flatly.

It feels like someone knocked the wind out of me. I feel all my surety and confidence trickling down the drain, having no way to be prepared for the possibility that she might not just be leaving for me but for her as well.

“What?”

“I . . .” She rubs at her arm nervously. Is it because of guilt? “I’ve been too distracted by all of this. I’ve been messing up at school, and I just . . . I don’t have time for everything that comes with this. With us. I love Sophie, I do, but I’m not ready to be anyone’s mother. It’s way more than I signed up for. It’s not the right time in my life for me to try and be what you need.”

Every emotion that has raged inside me from the moment I realized her intention fizzles out and dies. In their wake is a cold, empty void that I find is somehow more terrifying than the idea of her leaving only moments ago. It feels like the end of something. Or maybe it feels like something that never really was.

“Oh.”

I don’t know what else to say. How can I possibly respond to that? I’d deluded myself into thinking that Cassie felt as strongly for me as I’ve come to feel for her. How naive of me.

A dry, hollow laugh escapes me. “Right. I didn’t—” My voice is thick now. “I didn’t realize that’s how you felt.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again.

I’m sorry.

What a ridiculous phrase. Meaningless. How is it that in millions of years we haven’t managed to come up with a better string of words to offer someone whose heart’s being stomped on? I’m sorry feels like offering a Band-Aid for a shark bite.

Utterly. Useless.

“Don’t be,” I tell her. Now I’m the one who can’t look her in the eye. I don’t know if I’m embarrassed or just numb. “It was my mistake.” I move past her to drop down on the couch to take the pressure of my now-unsteady legs. “I shouldn’t have assumed that we felt the same.”

I hear her choke back a sob, but I still can’t bring myself to look at her. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll lose it.

“Aiden, I—”

“I’ll say goodbye to Sophie for you,” I say hollowly. “Eventually, she’ll understand.”

In my line of vision I can make out her legs moving toward her bag, and I can see her hands reaching for the strap. They’re trembling. I think she’s crying again. I still want to hold her, but knowing that she doesn’t want me to keeps me on the couch, my hands fisted at my sides and my eyes trained on the floor.

“Goodbye, Aiden,” she tells me softly, hardly even a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

I don’t tell her goodbye. I don’t think I’m physically able to make my mouth form the word. Almost like it’s wired shut in rebellion. As if not saying it will somehow make all of this go away.

But I can see her walking away from me, and the crushing realization that she won’t be coming back is a heavy, tangible thing settling on my shoulders. I don’t breathe until I hear the front door close behind her; I think I was hoping during her entire walk downstairs that she would change her mind. I have no idea what I’m going to tell Sophie, just like I have no idea how I’m going to pick myself up off the couch and figure out how to deal with losing Cassie only moments after I found her.

I don’t cry. I think I’d like to, but everything is so numb. Instead, I put my head in my hands, my shoulders shaking as I close my eyes and try to forget the way Cassie kissed me like she didn’t want to go. Even if I already know it’s going to haunt me. I have a terrifying feeling that all of her will.

Part of me thinks I should have told her I love her.

Part of me knows it wouldn’t have made her stay.