Page 118 of The Nanny and the Hothead
Charlotte had called them anusin the cab of the truck this morning. It seemed like that moment had happened years—not hours ago.
He’d been reeling. Reeling from dropping Oscar off and hearing the boy tell him that he loved him. Reeling from driving the familiar route to Helping Hands. And reeling from the tangle of emotions that kept him from knowing up from down and right from left when it came to the alluring redhead he couldn’t quite keep his hands off. And while the attraction between them hadn’t let up, today proved that it was more than physical. The click and snap of her camera had woven in with the pop and crackle of the toasting sandwiches like a soothing lullaby, letting him know she was there. Her presence lightened the mental load, allowing him to shed the burden of pain and anger that weighed him down. And let him do what he did best.
Create happiness through food.
With every turn of the spatula, every slice of his knife through a Signature Louise sandwich, and every instruction he rattled off to Erick and Sergio, he returned to himself. It was as if he’d been trapped at the bottom of the ocean, surrounded by a sea of inky black, until Charlotte shined a light—a light that beckoned him to abandon the familiar darkness and swim toward the surface.
To her.
To Oscar.
To the person he once was.
“Dad, is it going to be you, me, and Charlotte together forever?” his son pressed.
How was he supposed to answer that question? He knew how he wanted to answer it.
But the truth was, they were still well within the sixty-day nanny trial period. But he couldn’t imagine a day without Charlotte—not anymore. Not since the moment he saw her in the bar.
He pulled Oscar’s desk chair over to the side of the boy’s bed and sank down, recalling the last few hours. After he’d cooked for Oscar’s class, they’d gone home, then headed out into the yard. He and Charlotte had taken turns pushing Oscar on the swing set. They’d zipped through a few games of tag. And when they’d gotten hungry, they’d filed inside. He’d started dinner while Charlotte helped Oscar with his homework.
The routine came naturally.
He’d whipped up spaghetti and meatballs, and they’d eaten at the table, Charlotte to his left and Oscar to his right. He hadn’t spoken much, and neither had Charlotte. Instead, they listened as Oscar explained the steps he followed to paint his ceramic heart. And then, after they’d done the dishes together, the boy had asked to play video games on his tablet.
Back at the table, Charlotte brought out her laptop and started scrolling through the images she’d taken today. Oscar sipped on a glass of milk and fought intergalactic space aliens while he jotted down a rough outline for his book.
And here’s what was strange about it. There was nothing strange about it. The evening had flowed seamlessly.
“Dad?” Oscar said again.
He nodded to the boy, who observed him carefully.
“I’m your dad, so it will always be you and me. And Charlotte is…”
There were so many ways to finish that statement.
Charlotte is the one person who’d stood up to him in a very long time.
Charlotte is the woman who made him a better father.
Charlotte is the one thing he’d always wanted and never thought he could have again.
“Charlotte is my nanny and your person,” Oscar supplied.
“My person?” he repeated, taken aback.
“Yeah, she takes pictures for you. She helps with the food truck, and she makes you happy,” Oscar answered.
“How do you know that? How do you know she makes me happy?” he asked, marveling at this smart, intuitive, observant kid. How had he not seen it the minute he’d laid eyes on the boy? Granted, Oscar was a toddler when they first met. But the signs were there. The attentive eyes. The way the boy observed nature. His love of photography. The kid was amazing! And to his detriment, he’d allowed anger and seething resentment to cloud his view of this gifted boy.
“I know because this is what your face does when you see her,” Oscar answered, then used his index fingers to mush his lips into one hell of a scary smile.
“I sure hope I don’t look like that,” he teased, contorting his face to his son’s delight. But the kid wasn’t wrong. He’d tried to rein in his emotions when it came to the woman. Oscar’s observation proved a point. He was beyond controlling what his heart wanted.
Oscar’s little body vibrated beneath the covers as his rollicking giggles gave way to a full belly laugh.
The kid’s joy was contagious, and he laughed along with his son, soaking in the simple, beautiful pleasure of spending time with the kid. But barely a few seconds had passed before Oscar’s mouth widened, and he released a long, gaping yawn.
