“I would have told you, yes. But being a nanny makes this more complicated.”
“How so?”
Now isn’t the time to divulge what brought me to town in the first place, how my own daddy issues may have influenced this decision, orwhy there’s a timeline associated with my stay. “It just does. So, you have my help for the next four months, but after that, you’re going to need to find someone else.”
He casts his gaze off to the side of the room, his jaw flexing as he thinks for a minute. But when he turns back to me, he nods slowly. “Honestly, I don’t have another option right now, so I’ll take what I can get.”
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I stare down at Remy. “If you just got her last night, I assume you don’t have much for her? Clothes? Toys?”
“That would be correct.”
“Okay. Then we need to go shopping.”
“I already planned on it after these interviews.” He gestures toward the waiting area. “Now that we agree on your position, do you mind sliding out of the booth so I can finish what I came here to do?”
I maneuver my body across the booth and stand slowly so as not to stir the sleeping baby on my chest. “No need to be so testy.”
Henley lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean for that to come out like that. Again, I didn’t get much sleep last night and my mind is just spinning with everything I need to get done.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “I promise, once I get some rest, you’ll see that I’m not a complete asshole.”
“Just do what you need to do. I’m going to walk around and check out the place while I wait, and then later we can go into more detail about pay and time off.” I take two steps before a warm hand comes down on my forearm, barely grazing Remy, but singeing my skin and stopping me cold.
“Thank you again, Elodie.”
Our eyes catch and hold for a beat, the silence stretching between us. His touch is electric, sending shockwaves up and down my arm and making my toes curl in my sneakers.
“You’re welcome, Henley.”
He releases me, pushes a hand through his hair, and reaches for the clipboard on the table behind him. “I’ll finish up as soon as I can.”
While I wait, I hold Remy in my arms and wander over to the picture windows that overlook the surrounding mountains. My stomach twists at the reminder of why I came here, why this place felt like the perfect spot to lick my wounds and regroup.
Blossom Peak was a place of peace, fond memories, and somewhere that made me feel like I belonged as a kid. When I was here, I always felt calm, solid, and inspired, which is exactly what I need right now—reassurance that what I’ve worked for since childhood isn’t just a pipe dream that won’t ever happen for me.
***
“This one has some great safety features.” Henley and I are standing next to each other in the crib section of the department store in Asheville, scouring the options. “Although none of them will prevent her from ripping her diaper off and playing in her poop.”
Henley looks at me, horrified. “She’ll do that?”
I shrug as I walk over to the next option. “Some kids do, some don’t. We had one kid at the daycare we had to duct tape into his diaper during nap time. Because that’s the kind of painting nobody wants hanging on the walls.”
“Is that…legal?”
Glancing over my shoulder at him, I say, “It was his mom’s idea. Apparently, he’d made many masterpieces at home.”
Henley pushes the cart behind me, barely able to see me over the pile of stuff he’s buying for his daughter. It’s been a long time since I’ve cared for an infant, and there are so many new gadgets in the stores now that are purely genius—like a single-serve, no-mess formula dispenser. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve knocked over an entire can of formula just trying to get one scoop into the top of a bottle.
I told Henley he might be going overboard on some stuff, but turns out, the baby’s mom didn’t leave him with much.
I still can’t wrap my head around how a mother can leave her child, but then again, I don’t want to assume or judge. I’m sure there has to be a logical explanation, but Henley was quite the closed book on the drive here. I got one-word answers and plenty bouts of silence.
All I kept thinking about is how am I supposed to live with this man? I’m a talker. I’m an over-thinker. But those two qualities make me good at writing songs and telling stories.
Not good enough though, huh, Elodie?
Shaking off my internal self-doubt, I point between two of the cribs we’ve looked at. “I would go with either of these because they also convert into a toddler bed, so you’ll get more use out of it as she grows. More bang for your buck.”
Henley’s eyes bounce back and forth between the options. “I honestly don’t care. You pick.”
