She turns off the burner and places the sandwich on a cutting board. Grabbing a pizza slicer I didn’t even know I owned, she cuts the grilled cheese into bite-size pieces before depositing them in front of Jemmy.
“I’ll just clean up and be on my way,” she says, heading to the sink.
“No need. You’ve already cleaned up quite a bit.” More than any of my other nannies ever did, but I don’t tell her that. “I can take it from here.”
“Of course.” She heads toward the table and grabs her hoodie, sliding it on. “It was great hanging out with you, Presley.” She makes a fist and extends her arm toward my daughter.
To my surprise, Presley mirrors her movements and gives her a fist bump. Then Rowan heads toward Jemmy and tousles his hair.
“No more ketchup disasters, okay?”
“K.”
She gives me one last smile, then walks out of the kitchen, the sound of her footfalls growing softer with each retreating step.
I look back at my kids, both of whom are staring at me. I don’t even have to ask to know what they’re thinking.
Because I’m thinking the same thing.
That I’d be an absolute idiot if I don’t give Rowan a chance.
“Keep an eye on your brother,” I instruct Presley. “And keep the ketchup away from him.”
Presley nods, her lips quirking up into another slight smile.
I head out of the kitchen, spotting Rowan as she’s sliding her sneakers back on.
“Rowan?”
She straightens, meeting my eyes.
“Maybe we can…give it a try.”
“Give what a try?”
“The nanny job. On a trial basis. If you’re still interested after what you walked in on tonight. There may be more nights like this and you’ll need to be able to handle it yourself. I love my kids, but they can be…a lot.”
“If you’re trying to scare me off, you’ll have to try harder. I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.”
“Those two candefinitelybe a challenge. Did Dylan tell you any of the details?”
“Not really, other than that you have two kids.”
“I work at the medical practice here in town.”
“Dylan did mention you were a doctor.”
“There are some nights and weekends I’ll be on phone duty, meaning if someone calls our non-emergency line, I’ll need to field those. I can’t do that while wrangling the kids. Which is why I’d really like a live-in nanny this time around. You won’t be on the clock twenty-four seven. And there’s an in-law apartment, so it’s not like we’ll be sharing a living space. I need someone here and available to step in. Is any of that a problem?”
“It’ll be nice to live somewhere that’s not on wheels.”
I furrow my brows. “Not on wheels?”
“I’ve been living out of my van,” she says proudly, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Your…van?” I ask, questioning whether this is the right decision yet again.
I need someone dependable. Maybe I’m being quick to judge, but someone who’s living out of her damn car doesn’t exactly sound dependable.
