Page 58 of Under One Roof

“I don’t talk about it much,” I say, soothing myself by dragging my hands up and down her back.

“I know, but if you ever want to. Talk to me.” She rubs her fingers over my collarbone. “You take care of everyone around you. I hope you allow me to take care of you every once in a while.”

Her words land like a punch in my solar plexus, and I nearly buckle under the force. My perfect, sweet girl. “You take care of me, sweetheart.” I sweep my fingertip over the slope of her nose and then across her lips and down to her pulse at the base of her throat. “More than you know.”

She smiles, and I capture her mouth in a soft, slow kiss, tender and full of promise. One that ends far too soon because we really do need to get dressed before the kids get home. “Better get moving.” She tosses me a saucy wink as she struts out of the living room. “Can’t get off schedule.”

And for once, I wish we could.

Chapter19

Andi

In the last week since Griffin and I spent the night together in his bed, I’ve slept in my bed downstairs every night, but on the days he was home from work, we spent a few hours together kissing and laughing and getting naked. At least until we had to pretend we didn’t when it was time to pick up the kids from the bus stop.

I’d officially been their nanny and living in the Stone house for over a month. It’s been amazing—after that slightly bumpy start, of course. I’ve slotted so easily into life here, and while I never thought I’d enjoy childcare, Logan and Grace are awesome kids. They’re smart and funny and reveal things about myself that I didn’t know. Like my hatred of folding any laundry that isn’t my own and my reticence to relearn math skills but love of history. And how I’m more cut out for being a parental figure than I assumed.

It’s the twins’ birthday, and Logan has been begging his dad for a cell phone. Griffin has been resolute that they will not have cell phones until they’re fourteen. Grace doesn’t seem to mind since she has one best friend and that’s about it, but Logan is Mr. Popular. I know all his friends have cell phones because he’s told me. Multiple times.

After dinner and cake, when the twins received their gifts—from me, sunglasses for Logan and a Taylor Swift shirt for Grace, from Griffin, fifty-dollar gift certificates to their favorite food places—Logan brings it up again, pointing out, “Aunt Taryn got Maddie a phone in fourth grade.”

I thought the gift certificates were more than enough. While it wasn’t the most personal gift, they’re useful and perfectly Griffin, but Logan’s still upset, unable to understand his father’s side.

After a quiet moment, Griffin says, “Your cousin needed a cell phone. You’re not in the same situation as her.”

Logan throws his arms out to his sides. “But I can’t Snap with Valentina!”

I can see Griffin holding his temper in check, ever careful not to raise his voice to his kids, even if they shout at him. “I don’t know who Valentina is, but I swear to God, if you bring up the damn cell phones one more time, you won’t see one until you’re out of this house.”

Grace tosses me a nervous look and scurries out of the kitchen just as Logan opens his mouth to argue again. Griffin lifts his hand, which silences his son immediately. “You wanna talk shit?” Griffins says quietly. Too quietly. Like the calm before a storm. “You’ll go clean shit.”

I don’t know what that means, but I guess Logan does from the way he shakes his head.

“Go do your homework and chores,” Griffin orders, and Logan stomps off, mumbling curse words I know Griffin pretends not to hear because there’s no way he didn’t.

Once we’re alone in the kitchen, I move closer to him. “You wanna talk shit, you’ll go clean shit?”

He answers without looking at me. “Scrubbing the toilet with a toothbrush. The consequence of talking back.”

Tough but effective, and clearly a takeaway from his past life in the military. I would also assume the kids hate it and that it might make them resent him a little.

After a minute, Griffin’s jaw slackens. “Was I too hard on him?”

I consider the question, wagging my head side to side. “I imagine it’s not easy to be a kid in school without the thing everyone else has. I remember how that feels.”

He grunts and spins around, glaring out of the window over the sink. I don’t let him fume long, rubbing my palm over his back. “I also imagine it’s hard to be a single parent and have to carry the weight of every decision alone, bear the brunt of the kids’ emotions alone. Especially for someone who doesn’t like feelings.”

At that, he turns to me, his frustration melting, face softening. “Have to call me out like that, huh?”

“You were the one who said it first. That day you came home from work all cut up. We were in the bathroom, and you said you don’t do feelings.”

He squints. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Not so true anymore?” I guess, and he bends, rolling his forehead against mine.

“Not true anymore.”

I bunch his T-shirt in my fists and close my eyes. “It’ll be hard for you and for them to figure out how to navigate this time. I don’t think it’ll get any easier. Logan wants to push boundaries and flirt and go out with friends. I predict Gracie will cry a lot, feel insecure and left out. You’ll have to learn to be more open with them.” I lean back to meet his gaze. “Like you are with me.”

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