by Mia Carson
“I need to get back to the house soon,” she said quietly. “Why don’t you let me run in by myself, and I’ll be real quick.”
“Remy, wait,” Callie said and reached for her arm.
“No, really, it’s fine,” she insisted, faking a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
She found the latest gaming system, and with the help of the store clerk, picked out a few games that would be appropriate for a ten-year-old boy, trying the whole time not to let Callie’s words get to her too much. The words echoed through her mind, sounding very familiar to words her mom had told her not too long ago. She was twenty-five and needed to start her own life, take care of her own family.
But you have no family, she thought as the store clerk bagged up her items. You haven’t had a boyfriend last more than a few weeks and you have no idea what you even want to do with your life!
She carried the bags to the corvette where Callie leaned against the side. “All set,” Remy told her and placed the bags in the trunk with everything else.
“Want to get dinner or something?”
“No, I need to get this stuff set up for tomorrow and take care of a few other things I told Stan I would do for him,” she lied, not wanting to deal with Callie giving her that mixed look between annoyance and something that bordered on pity. Remy didn’t need her pity. She had a good life. She might not have a guy she had sex with twenty times a day on various pieces of furniture, but she had nothing to be upset about in her life.
Callie drove her back to the mansion, neither of them saying a word the entire drive. Remy picked the bags out of the trunk and waved to her friend. She dumped the packages on the front porch and dug around for the key she was given yesterday. It took three trips to get everything inside and finally close the front door. The house was quiet, so she assumed Stan was out in his workshop. She let him be, taking the toys up to Louis’ bedroom, all except the gaming console and video games. Those she moved to the sitting room towards the back of the house with the big, flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. She was so busy setting up the system and muttering obscenities under her breath when she couldn’t get it working, she didn’t hear Stan wheel into the room. She only noticed him sitting there when she stood in a rage, hauling back one of the controllers to chuck it across the room, and spotted him watching her, an amused smile twinkle in his eyes.
“You know, I don’t think throwing it across the room will make it work,” he suggested.
“Maybe not,” she agreed, lowering her hand, “but it’d sure make me feel better.”
“Rough day?”
“No…maybe…it doesn’t matter,” she rambled and plopped back down on the floor, crossing her legs as she did so. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of buying some things for Louis.”
“You bought this for him?” he asked, confused.
“Yeah, and some other stuff. It’s all upstairs already, though. Why, you don’t like video games?”
Stan held out his hand for the instruction manual and remotes. “I do. I just never thought to get them for a kid… my kid. Damn, I’m going to suck at this dad thing.”
“No, it’ll just take time.”
“I’ll pay you back for everything you bought today. Just give me the receipts.” He fiddled with the remotes and smirked when the TV turned on with the main menu screen for the console on it. “I think it’s all set now.”
“Thanks.” She turned the wireless controllers on and handed him one.
“What do you want me to do with this?”
“You can’t have games and not know how to play them,” she said. “So we’re going to play. I guess I should make food first. You hungry?”
“Actually, there’s a casserole in the fridge. Just throw it in the oven.”
Remy nodded slowly at the weird look of guilt on his face. “Where did the casserole come from?”
“A friendly neighbor dropped it off this afternoon.”
“Uh huh, and do they normally give you food?” she asked, giving him a crooked grin.
“Every now and then. I’m not going to turn down a casserole. It’s not like I can cook,” he said with a nervous laugh.
Remy walked past him to put it in the oven when his hand reached out and caught her arm, holding her by his side. “Stan?”
“Sorry—for earlier,” he said gruffly. “And for yesterday. I’m not much of a people person.”
“Apparently, neither am I,” she said quietly.
“Really? Who told you that?”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ll go get that casserole going.” She glanced at his hand still holding her wrist and the way his thumb glided casually over her skin. Her toes curled against the hardwood floor and her breath quickened before he let her go, seeming as reluctant as she was for the contact to end. He cleared his throat loudly and rolled further into the room while she headed quickly for the kitchen and the wine cellar. A glass might help calm her racing heart and keep her focused on her job. She was the nanny, and the ten-year-old boy arriving tomorrow needed her to be strong, to be someone he could count on while he adjusted to this life with his dad. Any spark she thought she felt between her and Stan would have to wait.
Like everything else in your life has to wait, she thought bitterly as she reached the bottom of the cellar and sat down hard on the wooden steps. Like you will always put your life on hold.
Callie wasn’t right. She couldn’t be, but tonight was not the time for her to do some soul searching, especially without any of her typical mediums to let out whatever aggravation built up inside her. The wine would have to suffice for now. The wine and not touching Stan again unless she absolutely had to.
6
Stan’s fingers twitched against the arms of his chair. He was nervous about Louis arriving in just a few moments and staying this time, but his newly discovered son wasn’t the only thing that had him on edge.
Remy.
Last night was the most fun he’d had since before the boating accident. After the awkward moment before dinner, they had moved on with the rest of the night as if he’d never touched her, as if he hadn’t felt a strange warmth rush through his veins and a sudden drive in his body to stand up and kiss her. But thinking it and actually doing it were two very different things. He could barely walk the few steps from his bed to the bathroom. How would he ever stand up and kiss a woman again? Hold her the way she should be held? Take her to bed and make love to her as the old Stanford Wellington would do?
“Stan?” Remy asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yes, tired is all. I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Too exhausted from getting your ass kicked at Mortal Kombat,” she decided with a smug grin.
“You barely beat me,” he argued but smiled with her. “You think he’ll be happy here?”
She puffed out a breath and blew her hair from her face. “I think he can be, just like I think you can be, but it’s going to take work, and the first few days are probably going to suck. Really suck. But you can’t hold it against him.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” he grunted.
“Hey, I’m a very honest person and this is not a situation I’ve exactly dealt with before. You’ll be fine, I know it.” She squeezed his shoulder with an encouraging look before walking to the front door and opening it wide. They weren’t there yet, but the morning breeze was nice to have blowing into the house. He hated the summers when he had to have the AC on. Fresh air was always better.
Thinking about last night brought up the casserole, and another pang of guilt grew in his chest. He needed to tell Remy the lie he’d told Melody before things got out of control, but she seemed to like him right now. He wanted to keep it that way if these next few weeks were going to suck, as she told him. He wanted her on his side and not scowling at him for spreading lies about her to his neighbors. Melody had a big mouth. By now, most of the people who lived around them would have heard Stan’s baby mama was movin
g in with him along with his son. He rolled on thin ice, but there was no need for Remy to speak to the neighbors. Everything would be fine.
“They’re here,” Remy announced happily. “Smiling would be a good idea.”
Stan plastered a smile on his face. “How’s that?”
“Less scary and more fatherly,” Remy said, stifling a laugh behind her hand. “Be yourself.”
“Myself doesn’t have any clue what to do with kids.”
“Not even your own?” she challenged when he started to sulk in his chair.
Her words made him pause, and he reconsidered what he’d said before. She had a point. This boy—Louis—was his kid. He might not have known him since he was born, or knew he even existed until two weeks ago, but he was Stan’s son nevertheless. He couldn’t let him down, not when Stan was all the kid had standing between him and a life in the foster care system. This was his chance to make up for ten years of not knowing and to prove to himself that maybe he didn’t have to keep carrying around the rest of the guilt weighing him down from the accident.
Theresa and Louis walked up the steps to the front porch, and Remy stepped to the side so they could enter the house. “Mr. Wellington, the house looks much better than it did on our first visit. I assume everything is in order for Louis to move in with you?”
“Yes, you have nothing to worry about. Either of you. Louis? This is Remy. She’ll be the live-in nanny and help us out for the first few months while you’re here,” he said, introducing them to each other.
Remy stepped towards him and held out her hand. Louis clung to the small backpack over his shoulder and stared at her hand as she smiled warmly at him. Stan opened his mouth to help, but Remy shook her head subtly. “Louis, right?” she said gently.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, still not taking her hand.
“You know, your dad spent all weekend setting up your room. It’s pretty sweet, and I hear there’s a few surprises up there for you. Want to see them?”
Louis’ eyes brightened, but he still didn’t smile. Remy let her hand fall, giving up on the handshake. “Maybe.”
“Well, I think you’ll want to. I hear there’s an awesome Battleship game up there, waiting to be played. When I was a kid, that was my favorite game, too. I still think I’m pretty good. Want to see?”
“Battleship?” he asked excitedly and gave Remy a brilliant smile.
“Yep. Why don’t you go on up and check it out? I’ll be right behind you.”
Louis took off up the stairs, dropping his bag on the way. Remy scooped it up and held out her hand to Theresa. “Remy Reagan, nanny.”
“Theresa Applebaum. I’m glad to see Mr. Wellington was able to find someone to help get Louis settled into his new life. It can be quite jarring for a child,” Theresa explained.
“Yes, it can, but I’ll do my best to see he’s well looked after.”
“Remy! Come on!” Louis yelled down the stairs.
“On my way!” she yelled back and darted upstairs.
Stan watched her go, his hopes rising that with Remy around, this might not be such a disaster. “Is there any more paperwork I need to worry about?”
“No, you’re all set as his guardian. I’ll stop by for regular visits, of course, to ensure he’s doing well and that you are able to handle him.” She patted Stan on the shoulder when he sucked in his bottom lip and glanced worriedly upstairs. “Why don’t you give me a tour of the rest of the house so I can be sure everything’s in order? I’ll stay and observe for part of the day and be back in a week or so.”
“Of course. Follow me,” he said as Louis’ laughter drifted through the house. He grinned at the happy sound and the way it lightened his spirits.
He showed Theresa around the whole house and assured her several different times that Louis would never have any sort of access to his workshop. If he did somehow manage to get into that room, all the guns were locked up in separate vaults he would never be able to get into, and the ammo was stored in a floor safe hidden beneath the boards. Theresa still eyed the workshop with a look of disapproval, but she didn’t ask any more questions about it and they were able to move on to the rest of the house. When they reached the stairs, she said he could stay down there while she headed up to check on Louis and Remy.
Stan spun absently around in his chair as he waited for them to come back downstairs. He wished he could hear what was being said, but when the trio appeared at the top of the stairs, Louis and Remy were arguing lightly over their last Battleship game and Theresa beamed at Stan.
“Now, how about lunch?” Remy asked. “Louis, you hungry?’
“I’m ten. I’m always hungry,” he teased.
“Good thing I stocked the pantry then,” Stan mentioned, but Louis’ smile faltered and he ran into the kitchen ahead of them. Stan’s hopes vanished and he paused.
“Give him time,” Remy whispered. “Remember? I said it would suck. This is part of the sucky days. It’ll get better.”
“And if it doesn’t? If he hates me forever?”
“He won’t. You can’t give up on him like—never mind,” she said quickly.
Stan would have pushed her to tell him, but Theresa stood barely a foot away from them and his son waited in the kitchen. He let it go and led the way into the kitchen for lunchtime with his son, Remy, and the social worker taking notes on everything happening. No pressure, none at all. Stan spent most of the time trying to think of what to say to Louis that the kid might actually respond to, but nothing came to mind. Remy, on the other hand, was a natural with him and had Louis cracking a smile and eventually laughing loudly.
“It’s nice to hear that sound,” Theresa told Stan as they sat at the kitchen table.
Remy had asked Louis if he wanted to see the yard, and they were out there doing cartwheels in the overgrown grass. “Yes, Remy’s very good with kids. I’m afraid I might need some more work.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Louis will come to understand why you weren’t there for him in time. I’m going to make a suggestion, and though it’s not a requirement, I feel it would do you and your son some good.”
Stan took the business card she pulled out. “Dr. Wendall Price? Who’s he?”
“He is a therapist specializing in difficult family situations such as this one.”
“Therapy,” Stan muttered, wanting to crumple up the card in his hand and toss it aside. “You think I need therapy?”
Theresa gave him a knowing look. “I think you know you need therapy and have yet to find a good enough reason to speak with someone. Let Louis be that reason. I know for a fact he will need someone to talk to. It could be good for you too.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. The phone rang inside, and he excused himself to answer it. “Hello?” He set the card down on the table by the phone in the kitchen.
“Stanford Wellington?” a woman asked sharply.
“This is he. Who’s calling? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“Is that so?” the woman snapped. “Well, I’m sorry for you being able to still live your life while my son is in a coma fighting for his thanks to you! I’m calling to remind you about him, about what you did!”
Stan gritted his teeth and eyed Louis and Remy outside in the yard. “I told you to stop calling me—all of you. I did not cause that accident. Your son did.”
“I’m going to sue you, I hope you know that!” she screamed into the phone. “I’m going to sue you for everything you have!”
“You already tried, remember? Look, I’m sorry for what happened, but I wasn’t driving a boat drunk. Do not call me again or I will report you to the police.”
He hung up as she continued to scream. Stan rubbed a hand over his face as he backed his chair up, glaring at the phone. The family had tried to sue him right after the accident, but Stan was not found at fault. The family, however, decided they didn’t like that outcome and continued to harass Stan, demanding he pay their medical bills, court fe
es, their son’s debts, and everything else under the sun. For the past month, they had been quiet and he’d hoped he’d heard the last of them.
Apparently not.
The last thing he wanted was for Remy to answer the phone one day when he wasn’t around. He would have to be sure to tell her not to answer unless she recognized the number. He pushed aside his rising anger, focusing on the sound of Louis’ laughter outside, and forced himself to rejoin them and pay attention to what mattered.
Remy’s sides hurt from laughing so hard as she and Louis battled it out in the sitting room. She groaned in defeat as Louis jumped to his feet, dancing around when he won. Theresa clapped and cheered from her corner as did Stan from his place beside the couch.
“You know,” Remy said as she caught her breath, “there’s someone else in this room who really loves this game, probably as much as you do.”
Louis’ smile fell a little as he glanced quickly at Stan. “Really?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe it. “No way.”
“Way,” she insisted. “You should ask him. He might even show you a thing or two.”
She handed the wireless controller to Louis and gave him an encouraging grin. Holding the controller tightly in his hand, Louis walked shyly over to Stan in his wheelchair and fumbled with it as he held it out to his dad. “Stan?”
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“Do you…do you want to play with me?”
Remy held her breath as Stan took the controller and grinned brightly, holding out his hand to Louis. “I would love to, but you’ll have to take it easy on me. I’m pretty sure you’re going to kick my ass.”
Theresa frowned, but Louis laughed as he turned around and sat right on Stan’s legs. “You’re on, old man.”
Stan shot Remy a look of disbelief at his son sitting comfortably on his legs. She worried he might be in pain and mouthed the question, “How’s your legs?” but he shook his head and winked. They started the next round, and Louis whooped Stan’s ass soundly several times. Remy stood up and stepped quietly out of the room, Theresa joining her.
