“One more story!” Belle cries but then ruins the effect with a big yawn.
Ronan shakes his head. “Much as I hate to admit it,” he says dryly, “Poppy’s right. It’s time for lights-out.”
“What?” I cup my hand around my ear. “Did I hear you say I’m right?”
He raises an eyebrow. The small smile playing on his lips makes me feel triumphant. “Didn’t I tell you earlier that you’re always right?”
He turns back to his daughter. “Good night, Belle,” he says, reaching down and smoothing the covers.
“Night, Poppy. Night, Daddy,” Belle murmurs, eyes closing.
Ronan freezes. He stares at the almost-sleeping girl for a long moment and then, hesitantly, leans down and brushes her forehead with a whisper of a kiss.
We walk out of her room into the dimly lit hallway, where I notice his expression.
“Hey, is everything okay?” I put my hand on his biceps.Focus, Poppy.
He nods. “It’s nothing. Just—”
“It’s just what?” I encourage, with a little pat on his tree trunk of an arm.
He avoids my eyes. “She called me Daddy.”
“For the first time,” I say, understanding now. I realize Belle usually calls him Father but never Daddy.
He nods and swallows hard.
I love seeing this man, larger-than-life on a movie screen, felled by such a sweet, simple thing. “She thinks you hung the moon, you know.”
“She does?” He looks so cautiously hopeful.
“She does. I pinkie swear. Belle talks about you nonstop. We had to make snickerdoodles tonight because she said they’re your favorites, even though she loves chocolate chip cookies best.”
“Well, I haven’t seen her smile as big as she did tonight. You make her happy,” he says.
“Well, I’m pretty fond of her as well.”
He shuffles his enormous feet. “I’ve got something to ask you.”
And just for a moment. For a brief, confusing, elating moment. I think, maybe. Just possibly. In some dream world. He might ask me on a date. Or ask to kiss me.
I hold my breath, waiting, heart beating on overload.
“Are you interested in…?”
“Yes!”
His light blue eyes go wide. In the low light of the hall, they’re almost the color of the cornflower-blue crayon Belle and I were talking about earlier.
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask you.”
“Oh, sorry.” I wave. “Please go on.”
“Would you be interested in being Belle’s new nanny? I know it’s a huge ask. But I’d be a crap father if I didn’t try. She lights up when she’s around you.” He looks away, his jaw ticking. “She deserves to be happy. This is temporary. We only have two months more of shooting, and then we leave just before Christmas.”
My mind whirls. He wants me. As a nanny. I’d be living with Ronan Masters and his daughter. The whole thing just doesn’t compute.
“I’m not a nanny,” I remind him and myself, just as I had reminded Belle earlier.
