“Hmm? What?” I ask.
“Hmmm,” she hums again.
“Rose.”
“Forgive me my darling, it appears I’m two sheets to the wind,” she says before setting her glass on the table beside her. “This Wes, is he handsome? I know the Coopers have three boys. Which one is the cutest?”
“Wes. By far. Like you wouldn’t believe.” I sigh and fall into the neighboring recliner. I turn my head to face her.
“Oh yes, this is good,” Rose says, more to herself than me.
“It’s not. He’s my boss. I just got fired, remember? I don’t need that to happen again. Plus, I want to write. This job gives me that freedom. I can’t mess this up just because he’s gorgeous.”
“Oh, please. Go for it. Life’s too short. If the man is willing to provide orgasms, take as many as you can get. It's the perfect inspiration for your vampire porn,” she says, waving her arm in the air dramatically.
“It’s not porn…” I trail off.
It kind of is, but it’s more than that. It’s romance. She doesn’t get it. She’s old and wacky. I wave off her raised eyebrow.
“Also, I don’t think Sophie would appreciate me screwing her brother after getting me the job as her niece’s nanny,” I add on.
“Sophie is the sweetest thing, and would not give a damn as long as you were happy and you know it,” Rose says, wine glass back in hand and tilting it toward me like an accusatory finger.
I do know it. After dinner tonight when we were clearing our plates, she mouthed “Wesley?” to me from across the table. Then waggled her eyebrows. Whatever that means. But she didn’t seem mad.
“Who's to say he’s even interested,” I say, picking at the fraying thread on the recliner.
She looks me up and down, then rolls her eyes. “He’s a man, honey. Of course he’s interested,” she says, scoffing.
I roll my eyes right back at her.
“This is not why I came over here.” I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes.
“Out with it then,” she orders feistily.
“Wes has to go to Texas for work next month. He doesn’t like to be away from Delilah for that long, so he asked if I’d come with them to watch her while he works.”
“And?”
“And,” I draw out, “I want to make sure your daughter will be around for the few days I’m gone.”
I do my best to say it casually, like it’s no big deal. It doesn’t work.
She stares blankly at me. “Girl, if you’re telling me that you’re making a decision based on whether or not you think I will be alright without you, I will skin your hide.”
“I only mean–”
“No.” She holds her hand up to cut me off. “I have lived on my own for a very long time. I will be alright for thefew daysyou are gone.” She holds up three fingers for emphasis. “If it will make you go, I will tell Catherine to come for lunch on one of those days. Happy?” she huffs, then begins muttering under her breath about me being up in her business.
I hold up my hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, geez. Sorry for caring about you.”
“You’re forgiven. Now, help me up, the rigor mortis is settin’ in.”
I hate that joke.
I stand, grabbing both of her hands, and pulling until she’s standing. It takes zero effort on my part.She’s probably five feet tallat most, and a hundred pounds soaking wet.
“Thank you my dear. Now, be gone. I’m tired.”
