Page 16 of Timelessly Ours

“Eight.”

I nod once then squint at him. “Remind me why I’m being held hostage?”

He rolls his eyes. That’s a new one for him when addressing me. “You’re more than welcome to leave. But I’d need to call your brother first.”

I cross my arms. “What’s for dinner?”

4

Nicole did me a favor. Kathy was a pain in my ass. But at least she’d tolerated Rory for more than a month.

Her only job was to take Rory to school in the mornings, pick her up, and care for her until I got home from work. They’d spend maybe a total of three to four hours together per day and could barely stand each other. The girl had no filter and my six-year-old didn’t care for her very much.

Okay. Rory hated everyone but she particularly didn’t like Kathy. Over the last few years, Rory complained about a lot of things concerning her babysitters; her hair’s too long, she’s always on her phone, she’s always looking at you funny, Daddy. But I never heard her complain that someone yelled at her.

I was just hoping to find a temporary replacement until I gently let her go.

A word that is clearly not in Nicole’s vocabulary.

Something I always liked about her.

I set a bowl of water down for Rover, my Rottweiler, since he’d already wolfed down his dinner before I even set the table.

Rory is sitting at the dining table with a coloring book, her hair still wet from the bath I’d given her an hour ago.

Nicole strolls into the kitchen, sets some things on the table, and pulls herself up behind my daughter, gathering her damp hair.

“Where’d you find that?” Rory asks.

I glance over between plating dishes. In addition to a conditioning spray that doesn’t do anything for Rory’s wild curls, and a pink comb, Nicole holds a little bag of colorful ring bands.

“In your room,” Nicole answers flatly.

“I use those to make bracelets.”

“Well, now I’m using them for your hair. Sit still.”

Quietly, Rory turns back to her coloring book. She’s not one to let people touch her hair. But I can tell my little girl is curious if nothing else.

By the time I’m done setting the table, Rory has two even braids on either side of her head with colorful pink and purple ties at the ends.

Rory strokes them once but doesn’t look up from her coloring book. I smirk when Nicole leans in. “Well, you’re very welcome.”

Rory side glances at her. “I didn’t say thank you.”

“I noticed.”

Rory shrugs. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

Nicole laughs. “Ah, you make a great point. Well, go on then. And clear the table, I might think that orange crayon is a carrot and bite into it. And take it from me, it takes weeks to get crayon bits out of your teeth.”

Finally, my little girl giggles as she collects her things and runs to the nearest mirror.

Nicole glances up at me. That’s what it’s been the past few hours. An occasional spared glance, but barely another word has been spoken between us.

I remember when those glances would linger just a little. When one of us used to have to break our gazes from each other at the arena or after parties.

Now she looks like she can’t get away from me fast enough.

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