“Hundreds of times,” she says with a confident nod. “Short cuts like yours too. Comes with the territory of being the big sister of a lot of boys who go from buzz cut to Bieber in, like, a week. Why? Are you scared or something?”
“Scared, no. Contemplating my escape? Yes.”
Jessa swats me playfully, except she uses the hand with the scissors to do so.
I flinch reflexively. “Cool it, Edward Scissorhands.”
“Sorry.” She giggles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I promise I won’t snip you.”
“You can snip. Just no buzz cuts.”
“Please. You’d look good with or without hair. I’m just going to trim it all down so it’s not in your eyes as much. Less bunching up around your ears too. Do you trust me?” Her smile is as contagious as it is calming.
“Yes.”
Snip, snip. Snip.
As Jessa begins to shape the mop on my head, I close my eyes, focusing on the sensation of her fingertips combing through my damp hair. It’s a comforting feeling, knowing you’re in good hands. And Jessa’s hands have a magical, soothing effect on me. I’m beginning to doze when her voice draws me back.
“You just have the one sibling, right?”
I blink open my eyes lazily. “Yeah, it’s just me and Penelope.”
“She’s really nice. I like her. It’s a relief, honestly—she treats me like she’s known me longer than six weeks.”
“That’s my sister for you. All she wants is for everyone within a mile radius of her to be happy. She’s kind of a people pleaser in that way.”
Using two fingers, Jessa lines up a few uneven strands along the side of my head and straightens them with a single confident snip. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” I murmur, shrugging, and Jessa gives me a warning look as if to say didn’t I ask you to sit still? Must be the big sister in her coming out. “Not with Wolfie there to look out for her and make sure she’s taking care of herself too. How about you? What are your siblings like?”
“Oh wow, where to begin? There are six of us, to start.”
“Geez. Six.” My eyes widen. “That must have been a lot.”
“Mm-hmm. Three girls and three boys. Me and Taylor and my little brother are my mom’s kids from her first marriage. The twins and little Cara are from her second marriage.”
I sense there’s a story there that Jessa isn’t telling me. But as curious as I am, I ultimately make the call not to pry. If she wants to tell me, she will.
“That’s quite the family.”
She quirks an eyebrow and lets out a humorless laugh. “No kidding. I love them all to death, don’t get me wrong, even when they’re being total assholes. But when I was at home, it was like . . . I don’t know.”
She shakes her head, her mouth twisted into a frown. “I couldn’t be myself. I was too busy making sure that no one was eating glue or stepping into traffic. Money was really tight for a while there, so my mom and stepdad were working full-time jobs at all sorts of odd hours to pay for, well, the six kids between them. So there was an unspoken expectation that I was the backup plan, the perpetual babysitter.”
“That must have been really hard.”
She smiles, relief written all over her features. “You can imagine how nice it was to leave and go to college. Coming home for the summers to help with the kids wasn’t a walk in the park exactly, but it beat being on call twenty-four/seven. Can you tip your chin down?”
I do as she asks, feeling her warm fingers brush against the back of my neck. “Sounds like you’ve always been working, even at home.”
Jessa snorts. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Although, it’s been nice renting from the Wilkeses, making a little home for myself. Did you know their son is coming home from his shore-duty tour early?”
“I didn’t. What does that mean for you?”
Her voice turns solemn. Thoughtful. “Well, he needs somewhere to stay, so my lease is ending a few days early. They’re being super fair about it, though. I mean, they cut my rent in half this month, so I’m really the one winning here.”
I frown. “But . . . where will you stay? Your trip isn’t for another two weeks. Are you leaving early?”
“Chin up,” Jessa says.
At first I think she’s caught on to the quiet stress underlying my casual tone. Then I remember where we are and what we’re doing. I lift my chin, and Jessa drags her fingers over my forehead, combing the wet hair back.
“Thank you.”
Snip, snip. Snip, snip.
Finally, she answers my question. “I can’t leave early because my flight is already booked. So you don’t have to worry about finding an interim nanny between me and whoever you’ve got lined up to take over next month.”
The truth is, I have no one lined up. Because contracting another nanny means that I have to accept the fact that Jessa is really leaving.
While I do understand that, in theory, I’ve been avoiding processing it fully. The truth is, I’ve been dreading replacing Jessa. Even more so, I’ve been dreading losing Jessa. My stomach tightens with dread at the thought.
“However,” she says, snapping me out of my sad spiral, “I do need a place to stay for the last few days. I was thinking about asking Scarlett if I could crash in her guest room. How much do you think is fair to offer her?”
I ignore Jessa’s question, instead asking one of my own, barely formed before it barrels out of my mouth. “Why don’t you just stay here?”
Her hands still in my hair, a look of surprise plastered on her face, she watches me, waiting for some sort of punch line. But it isn’t a joke. Although, if she doesn’t respond soon, I’ll have to force myself to play it off as one.
“You don’t mean that.” She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re only saying that because I’ve practically got a blade to your neck.” She emphasizes the word blade by snipping once again with the scissors.
I swallow, steadying my voice to sound as casual as I can without seeming flippant. “I mean it. We’re nearing the end of the second quarter at Frisky Business, and I still have to meet my quota. Meaning I’m only going to get busier until then. I could use your help taking care of Marley at night too.”
“Your quota?” Jessa narrows her eyes, all skepticism and uncertainty.
“Yep.” It’s not a lie. Not really. I do have to meet a quota of customer interactions that yield goods sold.
But I’m not going to tell her that I’m only two points away from my goal, a milestone I’m sure to pass tomorrow. And I’m certainly not going to tell her that the reason I want her to move in has little to do with Marley at all. Because that would require me admitting to myself that I’m in love with my baby girl’s nanny.
Oh fuck.
Jessa mulls over my offer while my thoughts stop dead in their circular tracks, focusing on one simple fact, as clear as a summer sky.
I love Jessa McClaine.
I love this gorgeous, contemplative woman. I love her eyes. I love her freckles. I love the way she snorts a little when she laughs. I love the feel of her fingertips trailing across my skin. I love how she smells, how she tastes, how she makes me feel when she meets my eyes across a room. I love how she loves my daughter, how she looks so at home, so at peace, holding Marley in her arms. I love Jessa and all the complications that come with her.