Page 56 of Soft Tissue Damage
“Rebecca.” Cullan speaks in a deep, calm voice.
She immediately whirls around, her eyes bright with the prospect of round two of their argument.
“In the future, you’ll stick to the terms of our divorce. You do not come to this house. Ever.”
Her jaw juts in anger, and for a moment, the woman’s beauty manages to look ugly. Without another word, she marches out of the house and slams the door behind her.
“I’m so sorry you had to hear all that,” Cullan sighs.
I wonder why Rebecca even came here. Ostensibly it was to discuss Leon and Rosie, but all she seemed to want was to fight with Cullan.
“I’m so sorry she said all that to you,” I say quietly. “I don’t think you’re boring.”
His lips twitch in amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. In the past, I would have bent over backward trying to give her everything she wanted. It’s a shock to her system to hear me tell her no. It’s not right that she marches in here and disturbs you.”
He moves closer to me, hazel eyes on my face. He cups my jaw in his hand and lowers his lips toward mine.
The stained-glass windows scream at me in my aunts’ voices.
Whore.
I turn my head away, breathing fast.
“Elena?”
A faint drumming sound reaches my ears. A pattering against the windows. It takes me a moment to realize what it is. Rain.
Rosie’s paintings. I left them outside.
I dash outside in the pouring rain. The paintings are spread out on the table where I left them, and all the colors are running together. “Oh, no. They’re ruined.”
Cullan appears at my side and reaches for them. “They’ll be all right. Let’s get them inside and onto the draining board.”
We spread the dripping pages out next to the sink. The water-based paints have mingled, but the brush marks and fingermarks are more or less still visible.
Cullan smiles at them, water dripping from his hair. “They’re very artistic. It looks like Rosie had fun.”
“She did,” I say sadly, wishing I hadn’t forgotten about them and left them outside. I glance at Cullan. Just a few moments in the rain, and we’re both soaked. He’s standing so close that I can feel the warmth of his arm next to mine. His wet hair is falling in his eyes. His shirt is plastered to his chest. I want to touch him, but I make myself look away as Rebecca’s cruel words and Leon’s nasty expression come back to me.
He reaches for me, and then drops his hand back to his side. “Please don’t take what Rebecca said about stray kittens to heart. She was referring to my clients. Whenever I rearranged my schedule to help someone after a break-in, it would make her jealous.”
“But that’s important. You have to help people.”
“I’m glad you see it that way. My ex did not.”
It feels dangerous, him comparing me to his ex-wife. If I’m not careful, I’ll start believing I’m on the same level of importance as she was. I’m just the nanny.
In the most professional tone as I can muster, I say, “It’s no problem, Mr. Grant.”
He opens his mouth and closes it again. He gazes at me for a long time, and then says with a sad smile, “I’m back to being Mr. Grant.”
There’s a stuffed bunny lying on the counter. I should have put it away earlier, but I forgot. I pick it up and squeeze it in my hands, saying desperately, “I really like working for you, Mr. Grant. It’s the most secure I’ve felt in, well, ever. Seeing Rosie happy makes me feel… Well, it’s indescribable. I’ve never known anything like it.”
Happy. Wistful. Hopeful. I carry a sense of loss over the loving, colorful childhood that I never experienced, but also the thrill of making it happen for another little girl.
Cullan studies me closely. “You weren’t very happy growing up, were you?”
“I remember it being very gray. Lots of church and chores and no money for toys. But I shouldn’t complain. I had a roof over my head. My aunts were always there. I wasn’t in an institution or moving from foster home to foster home.”
