Page 79 of The Nanny and the Hothead
She smoothed Oscar’s hair once again as the boy watched her with the same focused intensity as his father when a shiver passed through her. She knew without even looking that she and Oscar weren’t alone.
Glancing over her shoulder, she found Mitch standing in the doorway. She held his gaze until Oscar sprang another question.
“Do you get to see them for Christmas and summer break?” he asked.
“No, they’re super busy with their own lives,” she answered, working to keep up a serene front.
“Time for bed,” Mitch said as he entered the room.
She stood. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to hear about vegetables,” he answered, but there wasn’t a biting edge to his tone.
“Do I have to go to school, Dad? I could work for you in the food truck,” the boy offered. “I’m good at doing dishes and making grilled cheeses.”
“Sorry, kid. You have to go to school.”
“Every day?” Oscar pressed.
“Yes, every day.”
“Did you go to school every day?” Oscar continued.
Mitch looked away, then cleared his throat. “We’re not talking about me. You, Oscar, get to go to a great school called Whitmore.”
“And you’ll get to meet Phoebe. Remember, I told you about her? You’ll be in the same grade,” she added, playing along. But she couldn’t help but notice that the man had dodged the school attendance question.
Oscar yawned as the day caught up with him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Are you done getting the food truck ready?”
“Almost. Just a few more things to load up,” Mitch answered.
“I have something for you,” Oscar added, twisting his little body beneath the sheets.
Mitch shared a look with her. “For me?”
“For Louise,” Oscar answered. He slipped his hand under his pillow, retrieved two Polaroids, then passed them to Mitch. “Can you tape them on the glass with the rest of the pictures?”
She leaned in to get a closer look at the images. One was the photo Oscar had taken today in the garage of her and Mitch with Louise in the background. She stifled a laugh. They appeared as shell-shocked as she’d felt. The other picture was an off-centered selfie Oscar had taken inside the food truck.
“There are no pictures of Charlotte and me in there. I thought you’d want to add us,” Oscar explained.
Mitch stared at the images. The man looked lost—utterly lost. “I can do that,” he rasped.
Emotion hung heavy in the air—and of course, it would. A cataclysmic shift had engulfed this man’s life. It was his son’s first night in his home, and he had a nanny sleeping under his roof.
“Let’s get you tucked in,” she said, taking the lead as she fixed his pillow, only to feel something sharp. “What else is under there?” she asked. He wasn’t sleeping with a stick, was he?
Oscar removed the old spatula. “Can I keep it with me?”
“It’s not very cuddly,” Mitch replied.
Oscar rested the utensil on the pillow as if it were a teddy bear, then patted the worn wooden handle. “I don’t mind. I like it. I saw it in a bunch of the pictures in the truck. You used to use it,” Oscar finished, followed by another yawn.
“I did—a long time ago,” Mitch answered as they watched Oscar drift off to sleep with the spatula resting beside him.
“Can you take me to school in Louise?” Oscar garbled, his sleepy words slurring together.
“Sure, kid. We can do that,” Mitch replied as a dreamy smile stretched across Oscar’s mouth. The boy’s lips parted, and his breathing slowed.
