Page 30 of The Unconventional Nanny
I'm at the garbage, scraping plates before I answer. "It's fine, really. Go with the girls. This will only take me a few minutes. I’ll load the dishwasher and then join you."
Gracie looks like she wants to argue, but Zoey grabs her hand and yanks her in the direction of the living room, effectively cutting off any further protest.
I use the familiarity of rinsing off the plates and loading them in the dishwasher to bring myself back down to reality. The more time at dinner I had to think about what Livy said, the more I realized she's right. I had seemed too busy that morning for her, and that isn't like me. I've always put the girls’ needs first, and that can't change just because I'm having feelings for Gracie.
With the dishwasher started, I head into the living room and find a spot waiting for me between Everly and Livy. Gracie is on the other side of Everly, and Zoey has glued herself to the woman who can make my insides melt with a single look.
I fortify my walls just a little higher and settle in for a nice evening.
An hour and a half later, as the ending credits scroll across the screen, we’re all in the same positions we started in. I don'tthink my kids have ever stayed in one spot during a movie. Honestly, I don’t think my kids have ever stayed in one spot for longer than thirty minutes. I'm not sure what kind of sorcery Gracie has over them, or if it's just the fact that someone new has joined us, but it's nice knowing we could make it through a full movie. Even if it is a kids’ one.
"Shower and bedtime," I tell the girls, receiving dramatic groans in response. I give them my best stern-parent look and their moods instantly shift to goodnights for Gracie before running upstairs.
"Give me an hour to get them showered and in bed. Then we can do something that doesn't involve princesses."
I realize after the words leave my mouth how dorky that sounds, but if Gracie notices, she doesn't say anything. Instead she nods her head in agreement and hope fills my chest.
I can give Gracie my time. It just needs to be when the kids are asleep or at school. Basically, anytime when the kids don’t need me. At least until I figure out where Gracie fits into our world.
Chapter Fourteen
GRACIE
I rush for my bedroom the moment Ang and the girls are out of my sight, acting entirely too much like the lovesick teenager I'm trying hard not to be.
Stripping out of my clothes, I toss them haphazardly across the room, not caring one bit if they make it into the hamper or not, and change into something a little more comfortable.
Butterflies swoop around in my stomach as I look at myself in the mirror.
Am I trying too hard?
My reflection stares back at me in a pair of booty shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. Casual and comfy, but with a healthy dose of sex appeal. I shake my hair out a bit and let it fall naturally around my shoulders, then debate putting on some mascara and lip gloss. That would definitely be trying too hard. Instead, I settle for the natural look.
A quick glance at the clock reveals I have another fifty minutes before Ang will be done putting the girls to bed. I bop my forehead in disgust.Why the hell did I rush?
Oh, right. The whole lovesick-teenager thing I have going on.
I can’t even say when it happened, but at some point I stopped seeing Ang as just my landlord and boss, and started to see him as so much more. Maybe it’s every time I see him with his kids and my ovaries burst from the unconditional love he shows them. He certainly has the hot-single-dad thing going on. Or maybe it’s because he treats me like an equal instead of a kid. I mean, I love my siblings, but to them I’ve always been the baby. Even to their friends, I’m little more than the baby sister.
But Ang is different. He treats me like a woman. An attractive woman, even.
I need a fifty-minute distraction. Maybe I can make time go faster by cleaning up my room. I wouldn't go as far as saying I'm a slob, but I could do a better job of putting things away. My clothes, for starters. While there are certainly times when it's easier, I don'thaveto live out of a clothes basket. And Icouldmake my bed after I get out of it each morning. But since I'm just going to crawl back into it at night, it seems like a waste of time. Icouldput my makeup away after I use it. But again, what's the point since I'll just have to pull it out again the next day.
But since I'm trying to keep myself busy, I do all those things, plus a few more, until the clock shows it's been fifty-five minutes since Ang told me to meet him.
Close enough.
Trying to keep the eagerness out of my steps, I slowly walk across the bedroom and step through the door that separates my place from the rest of the house. And standing there, in a pair of gray sweatpants and a tight T-shirt, is the man himself.
Ang sees me and groans. "Are you trying to kill me, baby?"
Mmm, baby. I like the sound of that.
I tilt my head to the side, and with my best confused voice say, "I don't know what you mean?"
"Are you even wearing anything under that sweatshirt?"
I flash my shirt up and showcase my itty-bitty black shorts I occasionally wear to do yoga.
