Page 11 of The Unconventional Nanny
How did I get so caught up in my thoughts I never heard the little feet pad across the kitchen tile?
"Hey, Livy baby. What are you doing awake?"
"I'm thirsty. Is she here?" Livy looks at the door that leads to the in-law suite.
"Yeah, baby, she's here. She's currently unpacking. How about I get you some water and then tuck you back in?"
"I want a snack, too."
Of course she does. My little procrastinator and negotiator.Olivia is eight going on eighteen. I have no idea how I'm going to survive her teenager years when I can barely figure out single digits. To be honest, I'm winging it.
"What did you have in mind?"
I pick her up and set her on the marble counter. Her cute little nose scrunches up as she thinks about her choices. This isn't the first time we've played out this little scenario. I wouldn't say it's a nightly routine, but it happens at least three times a week. And every time I swear I'm going to put a stop to it, but I can't. My little girls have me wrapped around their fingers, and they know it. Thankfully, they don't take advantage of it too much.
"Nilla Wafers, please."
I smile at her choice because I know it's not what she really wants. This little girl has a sweet tooth, just like me.
"Good choice." I make sure she's far enough back that she won't slide off the counter as I go grab the cookies from thecabinet over the refrigerator. I move over the package of Oreos—the preferred treat for the two of us—and grab the yellow box.
Setting the box down next to Livy, I reach behind her for a cup, filling it halfway with water from the fridge dispenser before setting it next to her late-night snack.
"So what woke you up tonight?" There’s always something that prompts these evening discussions.
"I'm scared to meet her."
I tilt my head. "Scared or nervous?" She often confuses the two.
"Nervous," she corrects. "I'm nervous she won't like me."
"How could anyone not like you?" I ask dramatically, earning myself an equally dramatic eye roll. "You're the sweetest little girl in the whole wide world."
"You have to think that because you're my daddy."
I laugh at the exasperation in my daughter's tone. This is what I mean when I say going on eighteen.
"Okay, maybe I'm alittlebiased, but that doesn't make it untrue. Everyone loves you, and Gracie will too."
I hope, at least. Otherwise things are about to become real awkward.
Gracie could ignore us. She has everything she needs out there except a kitchen, but plenty of people eat out constantly. Besides, she mentioned a brother. If she wanted to, she could eat over there. There are myriad ways she could avoid us, but something tells me that won't be the case.
"When do we get to meet her?"
Livy nibbles on the edge of the cookie. I'm pretty sure tonight’s late-night snack has more to do with curiosity than being hungry. Normally by now, my daughter would've wolfed down a handful of the treat. She's still working on the first one.
"I'm not sure. We didn't get the chance to talk very much."
"Oh." Disappointment laces her little voice.
"You really want to meet her, huh?" I toss a wafer in my mouth as I wait for my oldest to answer.
"Milly at school has a mommy who paints her nails pretty colors. I want someone who paints my nails pretty colors too."
My heart shatters into a bajillion pieces. After Nina passed away giving birth to Everly, my mother would paint the girls’ nails anytime she came over. Now, due to her rheumatoid arthritis, that’s no longer possible. Her hands just aren't steady enough.
"I would be happy to paint your nails any color you want."
