Page 67 of This Baby Business
“And that’s usually the way parents do it. Notnannies, or at least not unless we’re asked. You don’t mean to tell me that Levi asked you to do this.”
I shook my head.
“So, basically, you’re doing this out of the kindness of your own heart. Because you are so invested in her health and well-being.”
“Uh, well. Actually…I—”
“Stop.” Jill held up her palm. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. You stroked her cheek when you laid her down. You’re making her fresh baby food. Fake fiancée or not, you’re getting way too attached.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not getting too attached to Levi.”
“I don’t meanLevi.”
* * *
Later,I changedGrace’s diaper for the nth time that day. “Jill is ridiculous.”
“Ba-goo,” Grace said.
I was pretty sure that meant she agreed. She’d been up for a couple hours now and still in a good mood. After Jill had left and Grace had woken from her nap, she’d engaged in her usual babbling alternated with crying jags. Eventually, she’d calmed down some after I had walked her in the backyard to look at the flowers and trees.
Of courseI wasn’t getting too attached to Grace. It was a ridiculous suggestion. Babies were sticky and needy and always hungry and wet. It wasn’t my fault that I was a good person and wanted to feed an innocent baby fresh food. I supposed if it were up to Jill, Grace would eat baby food filled with additives. I carried Grace into the living room and set her on the play mat she adored. Second favorite after being outside.
I picked up one of the nanny résumés from the stack on my coffee table and took a look. This was a chore I’d been avoiding, but getting someone else was the responsible thing to do. My work here was done. Obviously, the website and blog were much more successful when I stuck to my wheelhouse—clothes. Even if they were simply baby clothes. The blog had never been so popular since I’d started posting photos of my new outfits almost daily.
The first few résumés were adequate but pretentious. Why should someone who had her degree in child psychology think she was the perfect nanny? What? No one else understood what made a child tick? Please. When I picked up the résumé of a woman who had studied child development in both high school and college, was working toward obtaining her teaching credentials, spoke Spanish as a second language, and had a minor in art, I assumed I’d found the perfect nanny. Given the dates of her graduation, she was around twenty-five. She would probably be perfect.
For reasons I couldn’t explain in a bazillion years, I tore up the résumé.
My phone buzzed,and I reached for it as a text message from Levi scrolled across the screen.
Buckle up, buttercup. On my way home and Mrs. Lane is following me.
I furiously texted back.
Why? What does she want?
His reply came quickly.
It’s not good, but I’ll explain later. For now try to act like a good fiancée who’s completely in love with me.
Me:
You’re hilarious.
Levi:
Spare key under the mat. Meet me at home.
I threw my phone down. I should text-argue with the man, but had no time since my house was not fit for company. I had unopened boxes from UPS crowding the great room and I hadn’t cleaned up my kitchen yet. I’d told Mrs. Lane we'd’d go out sometime for dinner, but tonight wasn’t going to work. I just wasn’t prepared to act like Levi’s dutiful fiancée. Not tonight.
Tonight I’d planned to phone my brother Kirk and ask him for an update on how our father was really doing. Maybe have a genuine conversation about options.
“Okay, girl. This is for both of us. Showtime.” Carrying Grace next door, I bent to find the key under the mat and slid it in the keyhole.
When I let myself in the door, it became clear why Levi wanted to meet me here. While my home was in its usual state of chaos, his place was immaculate. How did he do it? I’d assumed the other night when I’d been over that it had been a fluke, that Grace had been with Cassie and he’d had time to straighten up. But he’d left the house this morning, and the only thing out of place was a single coffee mug in the sink.
We were so different. He was neat, I was a mess. Ditto emotions. His were tightly controlled and I was wound up like a top half the time. I often had no clue what he could be thinking, beyond getting me naked. That’s where he became obvious.
