by Lexi Ryan
E,
You give me the courage to face another day. Again. And again.
-Elena
I told myself it was romantic, but I kept thinking about the things my mom would say to us when we were kids—about how she kept going for us, about how she didn’t see the point if we weren’t with her. Sometimes people disguise their crutches as love, but pretty words don’t change the fact that it’s not healthy to put your whole purpose for being on someone else.
I feel like I’m spying on their marriage, but it’s hard not to when he refuses to let her go.
I pour myself a big mug of coffee and then grab my prescription from the medicine cabinet as Ethan walks into the kitchen. Lust knots in my belly at the sight of him in a dark suit and tie. I don’t want to be affected by him, but I am. He’s supposed to head to his conference this morning, and I know he’s nervous about leaving me here.
“You ready to head out?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. I think so. I . . .” He frowns as he spots the bottle of pills in my hand and marches over to me. “What is this?” he asks, taking them from my hand.
“It’s my medicine.” I snatch it back. I’m grateful I packed my meds in my honeymoon bag. If they had been in my purse, I’d be without them.
He turns it in my hand to look at the label before bringing his eyes back to mine. “We specifically asked if you were on any medication when you interviewed for this job.”
Shit. Veronica isn’t, but had I been the one who interviewed, I would never have lied about my need for meds. That would be like a diabetic lying about needing insulin. “Why does it matter?”
“Why does it matter? That’s a medication for depression, and you’re caring for my daughter.”
“Are you really that big of an asshole? Because I thought you were a doctor, and a doctor should understand that somebody who suffers from this is better off with the medication than trying to pretend she doesn’t need it.”
“That doesn’t forgive you for lying about it.”
A knot forms in my stomach, and I search for the best way to speak the truth and only the truth. “I don’t know what your mother asked everyone she interviewed, but I know I wouldn’t have lied about this.” Damn it, Kathleen. Why didn’t you ask me about this?
“Fuck.” He spins away from me and drags a hand through his hair. He puts his hands against the wall and leans forward. “Are you okay? Should I cancel my trip?”
“I’m fine, Ethan. I’ve been stable for years. I just want to stay that way.”
He pushes off the wall. “I wish I’d known about this.”
“Now you know.” I lift my chin. I refuse to be shamed for taking the medication I need.
“Call Shay if you need anything, okay? I’ll call tonight after my meetings.” Then he stomps out of the house as if he’s going off to war.
“And then Madison D—not my best friend, the other Madison—she said she thought Mrs. Cooper was a meanie head, and Mrs. Cooper made her apologize and miss recess.”
I can’t hear the other end of the conversation, but I have to smile as I watch Lilly chatter on about her day with her grandmother. Kathleen called last night before her plane left New York, and again this afternoon after Lilly got home from school.
“Okay,” Lilly says. “Love you too. Call again tomorrow?” She nods. “Okay, here’s Nic.”
I take the phone, and Lilly hurries back to the table to work on her drawing. “How was your flight?”
“It was very long,” Kathleen says, “but I was able to sleep some. Caroline and I are in Berlin, and we’ll go meet the specialist at the treatment center tomorrow.”
I exhale heavily and walk out of the room so Lilly won’t overhear. “You really do have someone with you. I’m glad to know that.”
“Caroline is a dear friend. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“No one should have to go through that alone,” I say softly.
“Put it out of your mind. Did Ethan leave for his conference this morning?”
“He did. He’ll be back late tomorrow night.”
“That’s great. I was worried he’d cancel with you being so new there. The timing just couldn’t be helped.”
I’m honestly surprised he didn’t cancel, but I don’t say that. Instead, I take a breath and tell her what I can only imagine Ethan will bring up next time they talk. “Mrs. Jackson, I take a prescription for depression. Ethan saw me with it this morning, and he was really upset.”
She’s silent a beat, and I can hear her long exhale before she speaks. “Oh, dear.”
“I wish you’d have asked me. I’d have told you about it.”
“What did he say when he saw? Did he ask you to leave?”
He’s already asked me to leave, so he didn’t have to ask again. “He was upset. He thinks I lied to you.”
“I’ll call him tonight and smooth his feathers. I’ll tell him I forgot to ask. Something. I don’t want him angry with you.”
“Well, thank you. I think that might help.” I pause a beat. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m perfectly capable of caring for Lilly.”
“Of course you are,” she says. “I wasn’t worried at all.”
But Ethan is. “Call when you can, but focus on resting.”
“I will. Give Lilly kisses for me and tell her I miss her. I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to call once I start these treatments.”
I want to tell her to come home, to remind her that she doesn’t have to leave her family while she fights this, but I’ve already told her what I think, so I bite my tongue. “Okay. I understand. We’ll talk soon.”
We say our goodbyes, and I end the call then return to the kitchen to find Lilly frowning at the drawing in front of her, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” I walk over to the table and look at the picture. There’s a little girl holding hands with a taller figure with long silver hair—Lilly and her grandmother, I assume. “That’s a beautiful picture.”
Lilly shakes her head. “I messed it up.” She scribbles over the hands. “I can’t do hands. They’re too hard, and it looks bad.”
My heart aches. “Oh, honey. I thought the hands were nice, but if you want to do it again, that’s okay too.”
“I just want it to be perfect so Nana knows how much I miss her.”
“I have an idea.” Lilly’s sad face is tugging on my heart. “After dinner, what do you say we go to the store and each pick out our own candy, then we come home and make a big batch of popcorn and watch My Little Pony: The Movie on the big screen in the basement.”
Lilly’s eyes light up, and she wipes a tear from her cheek. “Candy?”
I grin. “You can choose anything, but just one thing. And no king-size because we’re not kings, we’re princesses.”
She laughs. “What if I want Sour Patch Kids?”
“Then you should choose Sour Patch Kids.”
She cocks her head and narrows her eyes at me, then props her hands on her hips. “Does Daddy know you’re filling me up with sugar while he’s away?”
I bite back a smile. “I promise we’ll brush our teeth really well before we go to bed.”
“That sounds nice,” she says softly.
After dinner, we bundle up and go out to the car, because it’s getting dark and too cold to walk. At the drugstore, Lilly is far too excited about the prospect of Sour Patch Kids to beg me for additional candy, and we’re in and out of the store in no time.
Back at home, we put our PJs on—Shopkins for her, penguins riding inner tubes for me. I make the popcorn and put it in a big bowl for us to share. I start the movie and sit down on the couch next to her, and she spreads out her favorite blanket so it covers my legs and hers.
I wrap an arm around her and kiss the top of her head.
“You’re my favorite nanny,” she says.
I laugh. “Have you had a lot of nannies?” I ask, even though I know I’m the first. She probably mea
ns babysitter.
“No.” She shakes her head. “You’re the only one. But even between you and all the others I haven’t had, you’re still my favorite.”
My heart squeezes and expands all in one painful moment. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, because I don’t know how long it’ll take for Ethan to find my replacement, but even after only a few days, the idea of leaving this little girl kills me. She’s so smart and sweet. Even when she’s sad about her grandmother leaving, she still manages to fill the room with joy.
“And you’re my favorite kid,” I say. “No contest.”
She leans her head against my arm. “I love my Nicky.”
Oh, kid. You’re killing me here. “I love you too, Lil.” And I mean every word.
“Nic, I think I ate too much candy.” The small voice comes from my bedroom doorway.
I pull back the covers and climb out of bed, and I’m halfway to Lilly before she vomits all over the carpet. Oh, crap.
“You poor sweetie.” I lead her to the bathroom across the hall and pull her hair back into a tie. As she loses the remaining contents of her stomach into the toilet, I wet a washcloth with cold water and wipe the back of her neck. She’s burning up.
“Clara eats Sour Patch Kids at lunch and she never pukes,” she says, still gripping the sides of the toilet bowl.
“Oh, honey, I think you caught a tummy bug. This isn’t because of the candy.” She didn’t even finish her little package, and it’s not like she’s never had candy before, but I hate that she’s blaming herself. When her stomach stops heaving, I hand her a cup of water. “Rinse your mouth out. It’ll help you feel better.”
“I am better, I think.”
I get her some Tylenol and say a prayer it’ll stay down long enough to lower her fever. When she’s tucked into bed, I put a plastic washbasin next to her in case she can’t make it to the bathroom next time. Then I get busy cleaning up the vomit on my bedroom floor and scrubbing the toilet in the bathroom.
Just when I’m done washing everything and am ready to head back to bed, I hear her retching again, and her pathetic cry for me. I help her to the bathroom, where we wipe her face and she rinses her mouth before I guide her back to bed.
“Will you stay with me?” she asks as she pulls her blankets tightly around her.
I sit in the chair by the head of her bed. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Ethan
Home.
The conference was good, but I can’t wait to get home. I’m anxious to see Lilly, as always, but more so because it felt odd to leave her with someone new. Even though I know Nic is completely capable of doing the job, when I called this morning and found out Lilly was sick with a stomach bug, I had to fight every instinct to rush home right away.
I park the car in the garage and throw my keys in the mudroom, sorting through the mail I missed while I was gone. The lights are on in the kitchen. I head that way, expecting to see Nic at the sink or over some dish she’s prepping for tomorrow.
Instead, I see my sister Shay with a big glass of wine in her hand, circles under her eyes and shoulders that sag with exhaustion. I tense immediately, memories rearing their head and dragging my thoughts down the path of worst-case scenario without my permission. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
“I’ve been taking care of Lilly. The stomach bug’s been sweeping through this house.”
“Where’s Nic?” Did she leave? She wouldn’t do that, would she? I just spoke with her this morning, but I have been a bit of an asshole to her.
“Your rock-star nanny got it too. She called me this afternoon. Lilly was finally feeling better when Nic came down with it.” She shakes her head. “She didn’t want Princess Lil to have to see her nanny worshipping the porcelain god, if you know what I mean. Lilly’s all better, just a little run-down. She’s sleeping now. Has been for a few hours. Wish I could say as much for poor Nic. I swear, I love you and I love my niece, but if I get this shit . . .” She shudders. She lifts the can of Lysol and shakes it. “You’re out of Lysol. I sprayed down everything. Nic was in the middle of washing all the sheets when it hit her, so I finished that and started another load. Now I’m gonna go home, turn the shower as hot as I can stand it, and scour myself with bleach.” She drains the rest of her wine. “Do you need me to be back early to take Lilly duty so you can make your rounds?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ll get Henderson to cover for me.”
“Okay, well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Shay. I really appreciate it.”
“Nothing I wouldn’t do for that kid. Or for you.” She studies me for a beat. “You know that, right?”
I nod. I see her out the front then pad up the stairs to check on Lilly. Her room smells like clean sheets and linen-fresh-scented Lysol. As Shay promised, Lilly’s tucked in and sleeping deeply. I tiptoe quietly into her room, smooth her hair back, and press a kiss to her forehead. No fever. Aunt Shay’s got it under control.
I head for Nic’s room next but stop in the hallway in front of the bathroom. The light’s on. I knock on the door. “Nic?”
“Yeah?” Her voice is weak, and I barely hear her reply.
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
I open the door and find her curled up on the bathroom floor in front of the toilet. Her shirt is damp with sweat, but she’s shivering and her face is pale, and I feel like a dick for not getting to her faster.
“I’m sorry I had to call Shay.” She doesn’t open her eyes, as if looking at me would take too much effort. “Didn’t want Lilly to be alone. I couldn’t . . .” Grimacing, she holds her stomach. “Sorry.”
I grab a washcloth from the cabinet and run it under cold water. I sink to my haunches and wipe it across her forehead. “It’s okay. Have you had anything for this fever?”
She waves limply toward the counter, where a bottle of Advil sits next to a liter of untouched Gatorade. “Don’t think it stayed down.”
“Let’s get you back into bed.”
“No, it’s easier if I stay here.”
I slide an arm under her. “Come on. Bed.” I help her off the floor and guide her out of the bathroom, but instead of going to her bedroom, I take her downstairs to mine—the only bedroom with an attached bathroom. She doesn’t protest; she doesn’t seem to have the energy to care.
I pull back the sheets and tuck her into bed. I put the trashcan by the side of the bed, just in case, and go to the kitchen to get her some water, but when I return, she’s sleeping.
Nicole
My mouth tastes like rotten-egg-flavored sawdust, but for the first time in I don’t know how long, I’m thinking of opening my eyes for a reason other than finding the nearest toilet. I stretch in bed, my arms overhead, my toes pointed, and hum in appreciation of the warmth from the sunlight coming in the window.
It feels good to feel healthy, but I’m in no hurry to get up. I open my eyes and bolt upright when I realize I’m not in my bed. I’m in Ethan’s bed, and I’m not alone in the room. Ethan’s sitting in the recliner in the room’s little alcove, a book in his lap. His eyes are on me, and there’s a gentle smile on his face.
I look down to make sure I’m still decent. I have no memory of coming in here. I’m in the dirty gray T-shirt I wore to disinfect the house yesterday and some fleece sleep pants. I shift my gaze to him. “How did I get here?”
“I got home after midnight,” he says. “You were sleeping on the floor in the upstairs bathroom. I moved you.”
I frown. “Why’d you put me in here?”
He nods to his bathroom door. “Closer to the toilet?” He shrugs. “And it was more comfortable for me to keep an eye on you in here. The only place to sit in your room is the floor.”
I drag a hand over my face, trying to wipe the grogginess away. I have too many questions and I’m not sure where to start, so I begin with the most important. “Whe
re’s Lilly?”
“At school.”
“Is she up for that?” I grimace as soon as the question comes out of my mouth. Her father would know, wouldn’t he? Between being her father and, you know, a doctor?
He’s unfazed. “She’s fine. Shay said Lilly was fine all evening, and she was her usual Energizer Bunny self this morning, so I took her to school. She made me promise to tell you she said goodbye. I wouldn’t let her wake you.”
I feel like I’m failing at this nanny gig. My first week on the job and I’ve had to call in the sister to help and Ethan had to let me sleep in his bed. “And why aren’t you at work?”
“A friend is covering my rounds. I stayed home to take care of you.”
“I could have taken care of myself.”
“I have no doubt about that.” He stands and puts his book in the chair before coming toward me. “But just because you could doesn’t mean you should have to.”
My stomach flip-flops happily, not just at his words but at the warmth in his eyes. It appears I’ve finally won the approval of Dr. McBroody Pants. All I had to do was puke for twelve hours straight.
I’m suddenly all too aware that Ethan’s eyes are on me and I’m sitting in his bed. Even though he’s here tending to me in a totally platonic way, my overactive imagination is trying really hard to make it into something more. I scooch out of bed and straighten my sleep clothes.
“I’m gonna get a shower.” I wave to the bed. “Then I’ll change these sheets.”
“I’ve got it, Nic. I know how to do laundry.”
“What are you paying me for if you’re going to do your own laundry, run your daughter to school, and miss work?”
He smirks. “Don’t even the broodiest employers give their employees sick days?”
“I’m sorry I said that.”
He shrugs. “I suppose it’s true. I’ve never been known for my sparkling personality.” He steps forward and presses the back of his hand to my forehead. When he pulls it away, his gaze snags on my lips for a long moment.
