Page 63 of Love Notes & Lifelines
“They cling to you like you’re their mother,” Danica murmurs. Her expression is hard to read. Nothing I’ve seen from her would indicate that she has any kind of maternal instinct, but with the way she looks at us now, a mixture of sadness and confusion, it’s almost as if she’s envious of the bond I have with the girls. “I hope you’re not leaving on my account.” Her words are clipped, but not as harsh as when I first met her.
I speak without giving her the satisfaction of eye contact. She doesn’t deserve it, but I do keep my tone intentionally gentle. “My job is simply to keep the girls happy and safe—from whatever causes them harm.”
Ruby rests on my hip while I hold Emmy’s hand tightly, waiting for Beck to snap out of whatever shock he’s in, but when our gazes align, a hint of gratitude flashes in his swirling green orbs.
That’s enough for me. I shuffle Emmy up the stairs for more layers to fend off the distinct chill that covers us. But I have no idea if it’s cold from the cool spring air or the secrets everyone’s hiding behind.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BECK
“All the foodis labeled in the fridge with their names on it,” Stella says for the third time.
It’s seven o’clock on Saturday morning, and she’s already an hour behind her schedule.
I admit, the last two days have been a complete clusterfuck, but because she’s guided us through the chaos of our lives, I attempt to be respectful that there’s something about Saturdays that are important to her, so I’ll make it through the day. Granted, I should have paid more attention to how she ran things yesterday, but I was too busy avoiding this house, this town, and her.
I also haven’t slept much since we arrived. It’s this damn house and all the memories that jump out of every crevice. Haunted houses have nothing on my childhood home.
Stella spins in place before dumping another pile of diapers on the changing table I carried into the family room late last night. I wouldn’t have bothered, but when I caught her in the act, halfway to the stairs with a piece of furniture bigger than she is, my heart jackhammered in my chest.
She thought it would be easier if I kept everyone in one location, but she could have asked for fucking help. She’s luckyshe didn’t break her neck trying to maneuver that thing to the stairs.
She’s also probably right, but I’d prefer she not think of me as an invalid.
“I took care of them on my own at the penthouse,” I remind her, then internally cringe at my sulky tone.
Stella’s lifting a packet of baby wipes, and her hand freezes in the air. “Um, yes, you did.” She sets the wipes down next to the diapers. “But you’re, I don’t know, different here. No one has really settled into a routine. I’m sorry I’m leaving. But I need?—”
“This was a condition of your employment, Stella. I understand what that means. You can go now,” I say curtly because I can’t keep the bite out of my tone. She makes me lose control, and it simply can’t continue.
But when hurt flashes across her face I want to kick my own ass. Why do I insist on pushing her away when the only thing she’s guilty of is caring, maybe even too much, for my nieces?
“Uncle Beck Daddy?”
My entire body seizes. We can’t keep using that name.
Stella’s small, warm hand lands on my arm.
Love language.Maybe Stella has two of them.
“Emmy, honey. Come on down.” To me, Stella says, “We’ll address your name when I get back. There’s a lot of things we need to talk about. They need a united front. Even though I’mjustthe nanny, they need to feel as though we’re a team in everything that concerns them.”
Emmy runs across the room with Daisie trailing behind and flings herself at Stella. “Don’t go. Don’t go,” she cries.
Boulders clog my throat and sit heavy in my gut simultaneously. My thoughts skip back to what Stella said. She’ll never bejustthe nanny.
Daisie glances between me and the girls, then lies down at their feet. I can’t even be all that mad about her choosing sides anymore.
Even Stella is startled by the fragile emotion spewing from the little girl. Is this what she means by teamwork? I’m not someone who shares feelings or brainstorms solutions. If I don’t understand something, I learn—on my own—or outsource.
“Shh,” Stella coos, gently running a hand over Emmy’s hair.
I drop onto the sofa and observe as Stella cradles my niece in her arms.
Teamwork requires partners, equals. The way Stella soothes Emmy now isn’t something I’ll learn in a book or a TikTok video. This is feelings and emotions. It’s human connection. It’s what I’ve actively blocked from my life.
“I’ll only be gone a short time. I’ll be home before you wake up in the morning. I promise,” Stella whispers. Her face is calm and soothing, but her hands shake as she lightly smooths Emmy’s hair over her shoulder. The dichotomy of the two actions untethers me. Every vibration of her delicate fingers transfers energy through the air and straight to my heart.
