“Kids feed off the energy in the room,” I tell him. “If you’re calm, they’re calm. If you’re tense, they feel it.”
He studies me like I just handed him a missing puzzle piece. Then he places a stack of papers in front of me.
“What’s this? An onboarding manual?” I joke, although that’s exactly what it looks like.
“Just important things I’d like you to be aware of as far as the kids are concerned. Most of the time, you’ll only be with Jemmy since Presley’s in school. I drop her off on my way in and either my brother, Beckham, or sister-in-law, Haley, will drop her off after school. Sometimes my mom if they’re busy.”
“I don’t mind picking her up.”
Hayden shakes his head. “It’s during Jemmy’s nap time. Plus we have a system worked out. I drop off and they pick up, since their daughter goes to the same school.”
“Well, if you ever need me to do drop off, I can.”
“We’ll see how things go first before adding to your responsibilities.”
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Yup.Definitely a man with control issues. This extensive manual of his kid’s schedule, permitted snacks, and dozens of emergency phone numbers proves it.
“Jemmy gets a snack at around ten, then lunch at noon. He takes one nap a day. I’d like him to be asleep by two at the latest, so after lunch I’d prefer only calm play. No dinosaurs or army men.”
“Should I teach him to meditate?”
“Meditate?” He scrunches his brows. “He’s only…” He pushes out a breath. “That was a joke, wasn’t it?”
I give him a reassuring smile. “Relax. I know how to take care of kids.”
“This nap is important. If he’s too wound up, he’ll fight it. Then he’ll be exhausted and will fall asleep too early and will wake up at three or four in the morning, so?—”
I cut him off with a hand to his forearm. The second I touch him, he darts his eyes toward my hand. He’s practically a stranger, but I can’t ignore the subtle buzzing beneath my palm.
The slight flutter in my heart.
“I’ve got it.” I slowly remove my hand. “Now what would you like for breakfast?”
He straightens, obviously taken aback by my question. “Your job is to take care of my kids. Not me.”
“Trust me. This is part of it. By taking this task off your plate, it allows you to spend some time with them.” I point to a chair at the table in the breakfast nook. “Now sit.”
At first, he doesn’t move, as if wanting to argue with me. But it’s an argument he won’t win. I won’t let him.It’s obvious this man’s been running on empty for quite a while. It makes me curious about his story. What happened to the mother of his kids? Did she walk out on them? Or is it something worse?
I sense it’s the latter.
I walk over to a bowl on the counter and grab an avocado, feeling it for ripeness. “How does some avocado toast sound?”
“Better than what I’d make for myself.”
“I’m guessing that’s usually nothing?” I ask as I slice into the avocado and take out the pit.
“Unless Dylan stops by in the morning. She makes sure I eat. Mom, too. It’s not that I can’t cook. I can, despite what you witnessed last night. But lately I’m just…”
“It’s okay. I quite enjoy cooking. It’s…therapeutic. And after having to cook on a hot plate and in a space no bigger than a closet, it’s nice to be in a regular kitchen. And yours is beautiful.”
“Well, feel free to use it anytime you want.”
I look up to find him studying me with intensity. As if I’m a puzzle he’s desperately trying to put together. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
I slice the avocado and a tomato. Once the toast pops, I arrange the slices on top before sprinkling on some feta cheese.
