Page 30 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
I felt a twinge of shame. I’d never known how to manage my daughters’ natural curls, though I’d tried.
They’d come from my side for sure—my Irish mother and my father, whoever he might have been.
Their mother Anouk’s hair was as dark as theirs but shiny and board-straight like everyone’s on both sides of her family tree. She’d declared their hair “impossible” and basically stopped trying, pulling it back into ponytails whenever they were with her.
“Oh, I would never brush your hair,” Angelina assured the girl. “Beautiful curls like yours need to be handled differently. But it just so happens I’ve had several little curly-heads in my classrooms.”
She reached out and gently tugged one long coil of Claire’s hair, causing it to spring back into place. “And I knowallthe secrets to fixing curly hair without any pain at all.”
“Yay,” Skyla said and did a little spin move, which Claire copied.
That was when I knew without a doubt, I’d done the right thing. The woman sitting cross-legged on my entry hall floor not only looked like an angel, she was as gentle and patient as one. I could tell my daughters were already falling in love with her.
The trick would be avoiding it myself.
I shook off the surprising thought the way I shook off a jarring hard left hook. I wouldnotscrew this up. I’d keep my dealings with my new nanny friendly and polite and above all, professional.
Inside the boxing world, I was famous for my discipline and self-control. You didn’t get to my level of the sport without an iron will. And I would do anything for my girls.
Their needs were far more important than my own feelings and desires.
Yep, this was all going to work out perfectly.
Chapter Nine
Family Fun Day
Angelina-- One month later
Sunlight streamed into the kitchen, bathing the room in warm, yellow light as I prepared breakfast.
Classical music played at a low volume through the surround speaker system. Not only was it my personal favorite, I’d read that listening to symphony music was a great way for children to start the day, soothing their emotions and preparing their minds for optimal learning.
Sullivan and his daughters sat nearby at the round table in the breakfast nook where they chatted happily together. I smiled over at them, touched and amused by their sweet conversation.
“Daddy, did you know that when I close my eyes sometimes I see things?” Claire said. “At night when I’m sleeping, I watch TV.”
“You were dreaming. What did you see on your dream TV last night Claire-bear?” Sullivan asked.
“I saw a bagel dog.”
Big sister Skyla rolled her eyes. “It’s called aBeagledog.”
“Not the one I saw,” Claire insisted. “Mine was a bagel dog. And he had a drowsy mouth.”
From the stove where I stirred eggs in a skillet, I explained for their father’s sake. “We went on a long walk yesterday, and we saw a Bassett Hound. He was very friendly, and the girls got to pet him.”
“We had areallybig walk, Daddy,” Skyla said. “My feet were so tired, and they both got tired at the same time.”
Sullivan chuckled, then his gaze turned to me, inviting me to share in his appreciation of the cuteness. When our eyes met, his rugged face broke out in the biggest smile, as if to say,isn’t this great?
And it was. The conversation, the laughter, the smell of good food, and the coziness of the kitchen. It all felt so... family-ish—like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
Unexpected tears sprang to my eyes as I returned Sullivan’s smile.
“You have duck balls, Daddy,” Claire exclaimed. She reached over and rubbed his forearm with her tiny hand.
He turned to her with a perplexed expression. “What did you say? I haveduck balls?”
