He doesn’t look like anyone else either. I have limited experience with guys since I went to an all-girls boarding school, but I did go to college. All my boyfriends stemmed from there though none of them were like Luke. I never saw a single guy there who looked like him. I think Luke is incomparable, at least with humans. He’s a cross between a really sturdy, tall building and a panther. I think. His jet-black hair and dark eyes remind me of the cat, but it’s more his streamlined features. Sharp and chiseled, but elegant. They’re masculine too, so maybe not overly catlike because cats are beautiful. Luke could be called beautiful. His skin is flawless and bronzed from the sun, but he has an olive undertone that almost never sees a sunburn. I bet all of him is flawless—all six feet two or three inches of him. He’s streamlined like an athlete. He’s also not built like a square brick building but more like a Victorian mansion giving homage to a very dark beauty.
What the heck am I even saying?
“Ugh, are you still there?”
“Yeah.” I move to slip the phone to my other ear, but my hands are suddenly so clammy that I nearly drop it. I fumble with it before I get it back to where I can hear Sam.
“Well? What’s he like?”
“You already know what he’s like since you know him.”
“I do, but I want to hear it from you.” She sounds nervous. She’s probably worried about me, and I don’t want her to do that.
“He’s like…like an iceberg with extra ice.”
“You know why that is.”
I think about Luke’s face again. His lips are too thin, but maybe it’s because they look like they haven’t smiled in a long time or known laughter. The lines around his eyes are entrenched in, making him look older than he is, which I’d guess is around thirty-one or thirty-two. He carries himself like a man who was hurt so bad, the pain reached deep down into the nerves and numbed them like a burn or a cut so deep you don’t even know it’s there because the pain sensors are gone.
I haven’t experienced deep loss myself, but I can recognize it. He doesn’t wear his sorrow like a badge to be pitied or a cloak to protect himself, and he’s unapologetic about his gruffness.
“I think I read that emotional pain can trigger the brain to actually make your body feel physical pain. I think…” Sam supplies helpfully.
I want to ask Sam again how she knows Luke. He seems to be in a completely different mindset. And he’s obviously way older than us. I’m about to get the question out when I hear the front door creak open.
“Shit,” I whisper into the phone. “They’re back. I’ll have to text you later.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be here!”
“Just a new phone, for you to call my mom tomorrow, and oh, a new life while you’re at it. Also, for my parents to be normal and for today to never have happened.”
“I can take care of half of that. The other half, sorry, you’re screwed.” Sam hangs up, but she leaves me with her signature dry Sam humor as a parting gift.
I find myself smiling, even though nothing is funny. This is pretty much the furthest thing from funny, and the last thing I feel like doing is laughing. Luke was gone for maybe ten minutes. A neighbor must have been watching Shade for him. I feel like I should have done something with my time. Like gone into his room and cleaned up or gone downstairs and attempted to make dinner. Am I even really employed right now, or does it officially start tomorrow?
Farge my life right now. How the heck did I end up here?
Oh. Right. The farging foofing betrothal. Thanks, mom and dad. Really.
I tuck my phone away and stand up like someone just put a bear trap under my bottom. I walk guiltily to the stairs, but for some reason, hang back by the railing. Shade spots me first. He must have broken away from his dad at the door because he comes running round the bend so fast, he just about wipes out by the stairs. He peers up at me with curious dark eyes. It gives me a bit of a start because he’s like a mini-Luke. With less ice and less bitterness and the regular innocence of a child. Thankfully, he doesn’t look like he enjoys eating nannies like chocolate chip cookies and sucking their bones clean after. No, that one’s all on Luke. He probably finds it ultra-satisfying to act like a raging sasquatch until they’ve had enough and walk out the door.
“I’m hungry!” Shade announces, like a typical four-year-old.
For a second, I think he’s demanding I do something about it, but then I watch him turn and address the shadow that approaches. Holy banana pie. Now I do get a real start because this isn’t Luke, the gruff, icy, hairy yeti with an attitude to match, who went out the door. This Luke has no gruffness on his face, is softer, and obviously adores his son and doesn’t have to fake any emotions for him. Good freaking gravy. It’s like seeing a guy with multiple personality disorder. Not that I’m ruling it out. And if he does have that, well, maybe it’s okay. I mean, it’s not like he can help it, I think? Good thing I’m not a doctor.
“Shade,” Luke says in a deep voice that is so much more friendly now. He sets his hand on his son’s shoulder and stares at me so directly, I nearly squeak like a mouse and scamper down the stairs. Luke waits until my foot is on the bottom tread. “This is your new nanny. Her name is Feeney.”
“Feeney?” Shade giggles. He’s pretty adorable, so I don’t hold it against him. “That’s a funny name.”
“So is Shade,” I inform him amicably.
Luke’s lips curl back, but Shade just laughs harder. “I know. We both have funny names. Glad I’m finally meeting someone else who has one. Although, there was this girl named Sunny Day at space camp last year.”
“No! For real?”
“Yes!”
“It’s true,” Luke says ruefully.
“Hmm. Well, maybe she was born when the sun was shining, or maybe it was a prophetic sort of thing, and her mom hoped she’d bring sunshine wherever she went.”
“But my name’s Shade. Wouldn’t that be a bad thing then?”
Jeez, this kid is smart. How is he only four? I guess he’s more like four going on forty. He’s lost his mom, had a string of nannies, and probably has to hang around adults all the time while his dad is working. I’m sure he’s had a pretty unconventional childhood so far. I’m going to have to watch myself around this one. Honestly, things are looking up. I’d hate to look after a bratty kid, but preciousness, I can handle. I think it will actually be a lot of fun.
“Uh, well, have you ever been outside when it’s so hot and you’re so thirsty, and you’re sweating and wilting, and you feel like you might keel over at any second? Like you just can’t take it anymore?” Shade nods at me. “Then you’ll know what a great thing shade can be. It’s like a shelter for people when they need it most.”
Shade considers that. Finally, he grins at me. “I’m hungry,” he announces again.
Singular-minded directness can be an attractive quality. It beats the heck out of guessing, which is what I’m currently doing when my eyes flick to Luke’s face. He’s back to being stony once he notices me looking at him. His eyebrow lifts suggestively, but of course, he’s not going to say anything. I want to point out that it’s after five, and does this day even really count as day one? But I figure I should make a good first impression.