“Peppermint Patty, huh?”
“Just until she gets the real live Peppermint Patty.”
“Not going to happen,” he grumps. “A dog is permanent.”
“So are little girls,” I say in a soft voice.
His gaze rakes over mine.
He sets down the stuffie. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”
“I made spaghetti Bolognese. I spiralized some zucchini for you to have with it to make it extra not-as-tasty. Though if you want to go wild, I’ve got some of the real pasta and a lot of Parmesan cheese.”
“I already ate on set.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He looks at me with a guarded expression. “I appreciate you going to the trouble.”
I shrug, hating how polite we are. How strained. He’s probably afraid I’ll jump him if he shows me an ounce of familiarity. Because I did.
And then there’s a little something else I need to clear up.
“Belle was invited to sleep over at Sasha’s house tomorrow, with Sasha’s mom. Belle is excited because it would be her first sleepover. But it’s up to you.”
He tilts his head. “You trust her, Sasha’s mom?”
“Libby? Yes, she’s lovely. She’s a pediatrician and has lived in Snowflake Harbor all her life. But maybe you could talk with her and decide for yourself.”
He nods. “I guess Belle’s old enough?”
“Well, I think every parent and child are different in what they’re comfortable with, but I was going to sleepovers about that age. Belle wants to go. She even made a series of poster boards today to tell you why she thinks she should be allowed. There was glitter involved.” I laugh. “But I wanted to warn you, so you’re not blindsided.”
He gives me a slight smile. “Thanks. I guess it’s fine. I’ll have to talk to Sasha’s mom first, though.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll forward you her number.” I pause. Here’s the awkward part. “But the thing is, the invitation is for Saturday night, which is the night of the ball.”
“The ball?”
Oh great, has he’s forgotten? Hurt twists in me.
“Yes, the Christmas ball that you and Belle were going to attend tomorrow night. The one auctioning some of my paintings.”
He sits on the edge of the couch. He’s making me nervous perched there, not saying anything, though I guess it’s better than when he was standing.
I shift, removing some ribbon from around my neck. “Anyway, the sleepover is the same night as the ball. I thought Belle would like to attend, which is why I invited the two of you. But she’d rather go to the sleepover, and I’m sure you don’t want to go without her, so I guess you’re off the hook. Ha. Lucky you.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. It’s his go-to posture.
“You don’t want me to go,” he says flatly.
“W-what? No. I mean, yes. I mean…” I stammer. “I didn’t think you’d want to go without Belle. There wouldn’t be much point, would there?”
It’s a half-truth. I’d asked them, not only because I thought Belle would enjoy it, but also because I wanted to go with Ronan. He’s my dream date, and that hasn’t changed.
But I’m not sure where we stand. Am I still only the nanny? Or more?
“I’m giving you an out. I’m sure a ball is not on your list of preferred activities. And a Christmas ball, at that. I thought—”
