I pull my phone back out and send off a text.
Daniel: Andy wants to know what you’re making.
Kat: Tell him it goes with ice cream. That’s all he needs to know ;)
I show him the phone, and he reads. Then he belly laughs. “Hilarious. I want to eat what Kat’s making.”
I’m not going to argue with him.
“Let’s pick up ice cream.”
“Rocky Road,” he agrees.
We start down the street toward the grocery store.
Outside the day is cooling off, and I check that his jacket is fastened. Habit.
Once I’m satisfied it is, I shove my hands in my own pockets. “Didn’t expect you to pass up chicken nuggets.”
“I don’t want Kat to eat by herself. She picks out good clothes. She helped me get my friend back. We practice ballet moves together when I get stuck. She even got Miss O to come over and help when we both got stuck.”
I look over in surprise.
I knew they were getting along, but I never appreciated how much he looks up to her. I expected her to keep him safe and organized, not to teach him new things.
My kid is happier than he’s been in years. That’s what matters, not some illicit attraction.
Even if I can’t stop thinking about her body wrapped around mine..
We pass a pet store window, where a pen of three black and two white rabbits sits under the lights. Andy stops to watch, following them with a finger as they hop across their paper.
“How do you think Roger is? Do you think he likes living on the magic farm better than living with us?”
Roger was my kid’s first pet. My wife’s idea.
After he died, we weren’t up to getting a new pet, rabbit or otherwise.
“I bet he’s doing great.”
I tug him down the sidewalk toward the grocery store.
“Kat says missing people is good. That saying their name out loud helps us remember, and it keeps our missing them from getting stuck in here”—he points to his chest—“where it’s hard to breathe.”
Andy skips across lines on the sidewalk. I twist the ring on my finger and wonder when this woman started talking to my kid about things I don’t.
The door for the grocery opens automatically, and Andy bounces through ahead before turning toward me, his expression careful.
“Do you ever say Mommy’s name?”
My throat tightens.
“Sometimes.”
Andy reaches for my hand, and I wrap my fingers around his.
15
KAT
B+
A
A-
B-
I run through my grades from last semester.
Russell’s psych grad program does look promising.
The problem is there are so many parts to the application. Not only grades, but letters, statements…it’ll be a full-blown multimedia project when it’s done.
I reach for my tea, downing what’s left in the cup as a notification on my phone reminds me of a doctor’s appointment at the hospital.
Shit. I completely blanked on it.
I take the bus there, drumming my fingers on my leg as we get closer and wishing I was back in the library instead.
There’s a first.
I remind myself that this is routine while they’re asking and poking and prodding and scanning and testing.
It feels like forever ago, but it was only three years since I was in one of these places for far too long. I hate the smell, the sounds, the machines and the scuffed floors.
By the time I get back to the house, all I want is to see Daniel and Andy and give the guys a great end to their day together.
The sound of the door opening has me turning back from the stove.
“We beat all the high scores!” Andy bounds over to me. “Dad wasn’t as good as me but he said he’s out of practice.”
“Epic. High five.”
He complies, swinging his whole body with the motion.
“Something smells fantastic.” Daniel appears and my stomach flutters in a good way.
He’s wearing a moto jacket over jeans and a white T-shirt and it’s a total James Dean moment.
Plus, he’s carrying a tub of ice cream.
Be still my heart.
“Marinara sauce from scratch,” I inform him as he sets the dessert on the counter next to me and shrugs out of the jacket.
“Wow. I didn’t expect you to cook when I hired you.”
He crosses to the hallway to hang up his coat.
“I was looking up recipes and thought you’d both like this.”
He returns and the expression on his face is hard to read, gratitude and something more.
“Kat, we saw bunnies at the pet store!” Andy exclaims. “Did you know I used to have a bunny?”
“Yup. Roger the rabbit.”
“I’ll get a new bunny someday. Dad, can I have a new bunny?”
“Not today, bud.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow, we’ll see,” he says dryly.
We exchange a smile and he’s so handsome it’s destructive.
If he’s willing to pretend it didn’t happen, maybe I should too.
I turn back to drain the noodles.
“You gonna put me to work or what?” His voice is at my shoulder.
“Sure. You can grate cheese.”
He goes to get out the parmesan and starts his task, setting up only a couple feet from where I’m standing at the stove.
“What’s that?” Daniel nods to the Band-Aid on my arm.
“Just some blood tests. Totally routine.”
Daniel produces a casserole dish from the cupboard and I start layering the noodles, sauce, and cheese.
My gaze falls to the marks on his arms.
I don’t realize I’m picking at my Band-Aid until Andy says, “Let Dad do it. He’s real good. It doesn’t hurt at all.”
“He’s right. I am good.” Daniel crosses to me before I can protest.
He lifts the edge with his finger, and I wince.
“Is it that bad?”
“I don’t like feeling like a baby,” I mumble.
He smiles. “I won’t tell anyone. Don’t look at it.” He lifts my chin with his other hand. “Look at me.”
I do.
I lose myself in his eyes.
The dream-slash-real kiss comes back full force.
His hands on my thighs.
His body hard against mine.
His mouth making me moan.
“There.” He leans toward the trash under the sink.
“It’s gone?”
“It’s gone.”
His grin fades, but he’s still holding my arm. His thumb strokes down the inside of my elbow.
Soft.
Light.
My breath catches.
“Is it dinnertime? I could eat all the lasagna myself!” Andy declares.
We eat together, Andy still gushing over his day and games and rabbits.
I’m not the first nanny to cook dinner, but I’m proud of it. They didn’t expect it, and I enjoyed creating something for them.
“How was your day?” Daniel asks.
“I worked on my application for grad school. But I know I’ll forget something and they’ll say, ‘This was supposed to be one hundred and eleven pages, and it’s only one hundred ten. Denied.’”