Page 27 of The Unconventional Nanny
My impulsivity is going to get me in trouble one of these days. My parents used to say it. My siblings are always saying it. I’ve always brushed it off. But now I'm starting to realize they may just be correct.
I grab a new shirt. A plain one this time because, hell, I've caused enough trouble for one day. And I'm supposed to have dinner with Ang and his kids. For some bizarre reason I want to impress his older two daughters. Everly is still a work in progress, but maybe I can make a dent with Olivia and Zoey.
Or the whole night just might crash and burn. There's no way to know for sure.
I dillydally in my room for an extra thirty minutes, doing absolutely nothing beyond finding excuse after excuse to avoid Ang. Pathetic excuses, might I add. Like the sudden need to refold all my shirts in a different way. Seriously, who does that?
Oh wait . . . me. I'm the type of person who does that.
Annoyed with myself for my actions, I toss the shirt in my hand onto the bed with a huff, and turn on a dime. I march straight across the room to the door that leads to the kitchen and come to a halt when I throw the door open and find Ang at the island prepping dinner.
All of my bravado comes crashing down.
"I was beginning to wonder if you were going to bail on dinner with me and the kids," Ang says without lifting his head from what he's doing.
"I don't make a habit of reneging on promises I make. Besides, I'm excited to meet Livy and Zoey."
Only a small white lie. I'm more nervous than anything, but Ang doesn't need to know that.
Except, when he looks up, I have a feeling he knows exactly how nervous I am.
"You sure about that?"
I cross my arms over my chest in defiance. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know, but you're wearing a blank shirt and I'm thinking you don't do that very often."
"Livy and Zoey can read and I don't have any clean shirts that are remotely appropriate for them to ask about," I tell him with a little too much attitude and confidence.
At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
"If you say so."
I have the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him, but I hold back. It certainly wouldn't help the point I'm trying to make. Changing the subject seems like the best course of action.
"Is there something I can do to help?"
"How are your chopping skills?"
I scoff. "I mean, I won't cut off my fingers if that's what you're worried about."
Probably not anyway. Cooking is another one of those skills I don't do very well. Truthfully, I'm a horrible adult. I've spent too long single and eating out rather than learning to take care of myself. If I'm going to keep up this whole nanny thing, I'm going to need to learn to do more than boil water and pop things in the microwave.
"How about you chop the vegetables for the stir-fry?"
"Stir-fry, huh?" I move over to join him at the island. "I guess I need to up my lunch game."
I wash my hands at the sink and reach for the vegetables currently sitting in a strainer. It takes me a few seconds to locate a second cutting board and knife.
"Trust me, if it were up to Everly, every meal would consist of chicken nuggets or spaghetti. I usually have to fight with her to eat anything else for dinner. Thankfully, Zoey and Livy have my eating habits and will eat pretty much anything.”
Ang stops mid cutting up the chicken and gives me a sheepish look. “I’m so sorry. I never even asked what you liked to eat."
"I mean, I eat more like Everly, but stir-fry sounds delicious tonight."
The last thing I want to do is make him feel bad about what he's cooking.
"I'll remember to ask what you like next time."
