“Alright,” I try to pry her fingers from my hair, “Alright, food! I get it!”
Keeping a light hold on her wrist to stop her from yanking my hair straight from the root, I walk her through to the kitchen, where I then prep her a bottle, following the instructions left on the side for me. Dean has handwritten how to use the machine, as well as Lily’s schedule on a post-it note. I study the neat, almost elegant scrawl, the loops and curves of his lettersa juxtaposition to the way the man holds himself, and then I laugh at myself. What am I? Some kind of analyst who can read a person from the way they write? Ha! No. If I were, perhaps I would have figured out who it was that was haunting me.
Ignoring the dark turn of my thoughts, I continue like nothing happened. It won’t take long for me to fall into a routine with Lily, but it helps to know what he’s been doing with her up until now.
Once I prep the bottle and it’s ready, I carry her through to the living room and take a seat on the plush couch, sinking into the deep cushions so I can cradle her in my arm while the TV still plays her program in the background. She grasps the bottle, sucking down the milk in quick succession before she slows, and her eyes turn droopy.
Burping her proves difficult since she’s so sleepy, but we get it done, and the sweet girl falls asleep fast and hard in the crook of my arm while the TV keeps playing in the background. Carefully reaching for the remote, I switch it off, plunging the house into silence. Beyond the walls, I can hear the distant hum of traffic and a clock ticking from somewhere inside the house, but even though I know Dean is below me, I feel alone. I can’t hear him or feel his presence, and he doesn’t appear at all for the rest of the day.
Lily and I got through our first day with minimal disruptions. She got a little unsettled around lunchtime, but a little dancing and allowing her to use my hair like it was a pull toy helped. Her smile is the cutest thing I think I’ve ever seen, all gummy, and her eyes light up like they have a glow behind them. We get through bath-time, and at seven sharp, just after I put her down in her crib for her sleep, Dean emerged from his office.
His eyes scan the living room, seeing the place exactly as he left it. I enjoy being neat and tidy; it creates a sense of organization I am severely lacking in every other aspect of my life, but this I can control.
“She went down about ten minutes ago,” I stand and raise my arms to stretch.
“How was your day?” He asks, flicking his eyes down my body before they catch on something at my stomach. A quick look down shows my blouse has risen, showing skin, so I scramble to tug at the hem, covering myself back up. I feel my cheeks flush, but hide it as I turn and grab my purse from the side table I’d left it on earlier.
“Lily’s been great,” I tell him, holding my purse in front of me like a shield, “Took all her bottles and napped when she should have. We did tummy time, and I took her out into the garden this afternoon.”
His dark eyes flick around my face, narrowing enough that lines appear at the sides. “How wasyourday?” He repeats the question.
“I enjoyed myself,” I admit, “It’s been a while since I’ve been around kids, but,” I pause and shrug, “It’s what I do, you know? It’s what I am good at.”
“No, I don’t know,” He slowly strides into the room, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. “Why did you leave it if you loved it so much?”
My spine stiffens — too much, too close. Asking too many questions.
“I’ve got to go,” I rush out, looking at my wrist. I’m not even wearing a watch, and the twitch in Dean’s lip tells me he noticed that too. “Got somewhere to be.”
“Is that right?” He quirks a brow.
“Mmhmm,” I head for the door, “I’ll just order a cab and see you tomorrow.”
Before I can get the door open, he blocks it, “A cab?”
“Yeah?”
“You have a car, Sloane. Use it.”
“Well,Idon’t have a car,” I roll my shoulders.
“It is yours for the time you work for me, you can use it whenever you want. In and out of working hours. Please take it.”
“I don’t know if I —”
“You’re safer if you drive yourself.”
He’s right.
“Are you sure?” I hesitate.
Placing the key to the SUV in my palm, he uses his rough fingers to close mine around it. “I insist.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
“See you tomorrow.” He says, his hand lingering for a touch too long, but then he moves away from me and heads for the living room without a backward glance, making me wonder if I just read into the whole thing too much. I tend to overthink nowadays.
When I know he needs nothing further from me, I let myself out and climb into the car, the plush leather seat sinking as I relax into it.
