And Then You

by Amanda Richardson

  “Are you going to fire me?” I ask, and my eyes meet his. They soften around the corners, and he assesses my face.

  “No, Evianna. I’m not going to fire you,” he says, and he sighs loudly. “You just surprised me, that’s all. No one…” He looks away. “No one has slept in there since Isabel, besides Bria and me.”

  “Oh,” I say, suddenly feeling horrible. “Oh my god,” I whisper, and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Nick, I’m so, so, so sorry…”

  “I just don’t want to confuse Bria. There are boundaries—work boundaries and personal boundaries. Do you understand?”

  “Of course,” I whisper.

  “But thank you.” He looks at me, and I cock my head in confusion. “For calming her down,” he adds, gesturing to the closed door.

  “It won’t happen again,” I say quickly. He just nods and goes into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I let out a breath of air and feel my body slump.

  So stupid, Evi. So fucking stupid.

  The door reopens, and Nick hands me my phone and charger. I take it without saying anything or looking at him. I’m too embarrassed. I go downstairs to the guesthouse to shower and get ready for my day.

  That was not how I anticipated meeting Nick Wilder.

  *

  When I get out of the shower, I realize it’s raining. I throw on a pair of leggings, a vintage pullover sweatshirt that says Nike, and some sneakers. I didn’t wash my hair because it takes way too long to dry, so I pull it back into a loose ponytail. I apply a little bit of makeup—mascara and blush, mostly.

  I anxiously look at my phone. Eight forty-five. My official workday begins soon, and I have to go inside and face Nick again.

  Ugh.

  I cringe when I think back to the look on his face when I woke up.

  He was so angry.

  I guess I would be, too, if I caught the new nanny sleeping in the bed I used to share with my late wife. I want to smack myself.

  I swipe on some Chap Stick and grab my phone, ready to head in. I stop and stare out at the main house. God… this morning was so embarrassing. I want to curl up on my bed and never face Nick again. But I suck it up and run out, sprinting to the back door of the main house to try and avoid the heavy downpour.

  “Evi!” Bria shrieks, running over to me and throwing her arms around me. “You’re finally here!” she says. “I wath waiting for you.”

  “Oh, well, it’s a good thing I’m here now,” I say. I try to act chipper even though I haven’t had my coffee yet.

  As I make my way over to the coffee machine, I notice Nick sitting at the breakfast bar, reading the newspaper. I ignore him, and instead work around the kitchen like it’s my own. Though I understand why he was angry with me, I’m still mad because it’s not like I had a choice. Really, he should’ve been the one here last night. I was only doing my job.

  I pour myself a generous cup of coffee and skip breakfast. I’m not that hungry anyways.

  “What should we do today?” I ask Bria, who has followed me into the kitchen.

  “Can I go jump in some puddles?” she asks, her eyes pleading. I look over at Nick, and I see a very small smile form on his lips. I take that as his approval.

  “Of course.” I laugh as she zooms over to the back door and throws it open. “Wait, your coat!” I yell, going over to the coat rack to get her rain jacket. “Stay in the backyard! And if you get cold, come inside!”

  I sip my coffee, and in an effort to avoid being alone with Nick, I decide to grab a towel and fresh clothes for Bria. Whenever Elijah and I played in the rain, my mother always had towels and dry clothes waiting for us by the back door. I go upstairs and into Bria’s room, grab a sweater, some pants, and warm, fuzzy socks. I pick up a fresh towel on my way back down.

  As I search through the cupboards, I can feel Nick’s eyes on me. I turn around.

  “Do you have hot chocolate?” I ask. His lip curves slightly. I think he’s about to smile again, but instead his brow furrows.

  “Yeah. Should be on the top shelf.”

  “Ah, got it,” I say when I find it hidden behind some popcorn.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, watching me again.

  “Making Bria some hot chocolate for when she comes back in,” I explain factually. “I also got her some dry clothes and a towel. My mother always used to do that for us.”

  “That’s nice of you,” he says gently.

  I look over at him. Maybe he feels bad about earlier.

  “I don’t want her catching a cold,” I mutter, shrugging my shoulders.

  “She likes you,” he says, and he sets his newspaper down. “I’m glad. I knew she would.”

  I spin around and look at him.

  “I like her, too.” Her father, I’m not so sure.

  He sits there quietly and stares at his hands.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier,” he says, and he looks up at me. His eyes are so… sad. Like he’s been holding back tears for a long time, and the pain has etched itself onto his face permanently. In fact, his whole body looks defeated, tired, and just generally unhappy. I resist the urge to go over and hug him. I think about the book on his nightstand, and my heart sinks.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I understand. And it won’t happen again.”

  He nods and sips his coffee. I think I see his eyes flick over my body, but I’m not sure. I blush anyways.

  As I sip my coffee, I pretend to check my phone. Nick is just sitting there, and he looks like he’s about to say something. I see him gesticulate with his hands a few times, but nothing comes out. Finally, he speaks.

  “From Seattle?”

  “Yes. My parents live in Mount Baker, and I went to UW for undergrad and graduate school. I used to live in the city, but I’ve been living with my parents since graduation.” I don’t mention the reason.

  “I see.”

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “Yep. Seattle born and raised.”

  “Oh, cool. Do your parents live nearby?”

  “Nah. They retired to Hawaii years ago. Said the cold was aging them.” He chuckles. It’s obvious he loves and misses them. “That’s why I love having Cecelia around.”

  “I bet. So you’re a doctor?”

  “Yeah. Though I’m thinking of closing my practice. I’d like to transition into a teaching hospital in the next couple of years. Right now I’m testing the waters in Portland one day a week. Cecelia told you that, right?”

  “Yes, that you stay overnight once a week.”

  “Just until the end of the semester in December.” He looks at me, and his eyes are unwavering. “So, English major,” he says, referring to my embarrassing emails. In fact, almost every single encounter I’ve had with Nick has been embarrassing, now that I think about it. “What do you want to do with your life?”

  I stare at him. Is this a trick question?

  “Umm,” I answer, fishing for the right words.

  He just sits there and watches me. I feel uncomfortable. Is he testing me?

  “I know you don’t want to be a nanny forever,” he says, relaxing his face a bit. The furrowed brow is gone. Now he just looks interested.

  “Oh. I haven’t really thought about it. Teaching English overseas sounds cool. I had a friend—or, an ex-friend, do that for a year. She seemed to really like it.”

  I grit my teeth. I don’t really want to talk about her.

  “Huh,” he says. “You’d be good at that.” He adjusts himself in his seat so that he’s facing me squarely. “Ex-friend? Does this ex-friend have anything to do with your ex-boyfriend?” My expression falters. Nick must notice, because he clears his throat and corrects himself. “You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry. That was extremely nosy.”

  I stare down at my feet.

  “It’s fine. It’s just still a little raw.”

  “How long ago?” he asks.

  Was I really going to throw a pity party for myself with the man who lost h
is wife and son in a car wreck? My breakup was nothing compared to that.

  “Three months ago.”

  “Ouch,” he says, and he winces.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine, really,” I explain. “It could’ve been worse.”

  He shrugs.

  “I suppose.”

  “Trust me. It’s nothing compared to…” I trail off. His face registers my words, and I see him nod once.

  “Everyone’s allowed to grieve, Evianna. Just because I may seem worse off doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to grieve around me. You can’t judge someone else’s grief—we’re all grieving something, and everyone has the right to be sad about whatever the hell they want to be sad about. When I asked about your recent breakup, don’t feel the need to downplay it because of Isabel and Matthias.”

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  I am reeling from his words. What is up with this guy? One minute he’s yelling at me for sleeping in his bed, and the next he’s trying to get me to open up to him and reassuring me that my sadness is valid, which is extremely… nice of him.

  “They deserve each other,” Nick mutters under his breath, and I stare at him.

  Did he really just say that?

  “Who?”

  “You know who,” he says, and suddenly, he’s smiling.

  I hate that my heart skips a beat as he smiles. His teeth are perfect, except for one of his incisors, which slightly overlaps one of his other teeth. I can’t help but smile back. He has an infectious smile.

  “Sometimes I imagine that they’ll both contract genital warts, and it makes me feel a little bit better,” I say, before clamping my hand over my mouth.

  Nick howls with laughter, smacking his knee.

  “Good one,” he says, smiling.

  “God, I have no filter,” I mumble, but I’m smiling.

  “Can I ask what happened?”

  I sigh and look down. Here goes nothing. “My ex-friend slept with my ex-boyfriend when I was supposed to be at the library studying. I walked in on them. Dan and I were together for seven years.”

  I wait for his response. When I thought about how this day would go, confiding in Nick about Dan and Mia was about the last thing I envisioned happening. And even more surprising, I wanted to tell him everything.

  How I walked in on Dan and Mia.

  In our bed, my bed.

  Naked.

  How they both looked so guilty, and yet so comfortable with each other.

  How they sat me down and told me they were falling in love.

  How, somehow, Dan broke up with me, and I walked away thirty minutes later without my dignity and without a home.

  How I showed up at my parents’ house a complete wreck and didn’t come out of my childhood room for a week.

  How Dan packed up all of my things like I was an inconvenience.

  How Dan never called.

  How Mia never apologized.

  How they made me feel like it was my fault.

  I run my fingers through my hair uncomfortably.

  “Like I said in my email, Dan sounds like a tool,” Nick says, and he stands up. “And anyone who calls themselves your friend but then cheats with your boyfriend was never your friend. She never deserved your friendship.”

  “Yeah,” I say, trying not to notice Nick’s bare stomach as he stretches his hands above his head.

  “I’m going to go shower,” he says casually. “Make sure Bria doesn’t stay out there for too long,” he says, chuckling.

  “Won’t you be late for work?” I ask. It’s past nine already. He comes around the breakfast bar and sets his coffee mug in the sink. I’m leaning against the counter two feet away, and I catch a whiff of him—sweat and cinnamon. I try to pretend I don’t like it, but I do. I like it a lot. Too much. I take in his basketball shorts and T-shirt. He must’ve just worked out.

  “Taking the day off, Ms. Halle,” he says, brushing past me. I ignore the shivers that trill down my spine as the air between our bodies moves. I look up at him just as he looks back. His eyes work their way into mine, and I feel my body stiffen. “We should do something with Bria today,” he says cheerfully, and just like that, he’s gone.

  Why? Why did Nick Wilder have to be so hot? It’s like the universe is playing tricks on me. I quickly wash the coffee mugs and attempt to eat a banana, but I still have no appetite. My mind is spinning with the conversation I just had.

  You can’t judge someone else’s grief—we’re all grieving something, and everyone has the right to be sad about whatever the hell they want to be sad about. Why did his words so heavily affect me? Maybe because he was the only person who actually made me feel okay about grieving. Everyone else always scoffed and blamed him. Everyone in my life had a different opinion. My parents called him a cheating scumbag. I knew they were only trying to make me feel better, but their words didn’t fill the void I carry around in my heart. Violet, bless her, had left a flaming bag of dog poop on his doorstep for an entire week. Everyone said it was his fault, and I should forget him.

  It was so easy for them to say that. Except none of them allowed me to grieve, to cry, and to just wallow in my sadness. After the initial name calling on my parents’ part, they stopped talking about Dan. I’m pretty sure their reasoning was that if they stopped talking about it, I would forget about it sooner. But that didn’t happen. It only got louder in my head.

  Violet’s plan of action was to try and replace Dan by setting me up on a date with one of her boyfriend’s co-workers. I couldn’t even fathom dating someone else, and I was shocked that she thought I’d be ready so soon.

  Honestly, I just wanted someone to say, Hey, it’s okay that you’re sad. I just wanted someone to say, Just take some time to grieve. I just wanted someone to say exactly what Nick had said to me two minutes ago. I’d just met the guy, and already he seemed to understand me better than my friends and family.

  Nine.

  Nick

  If I made a list of all the things I imagined Evianna to be, jaded and fragile would not have made that list. And on top of that, I never thought I’d actually like her as a person. But I do. I enjoyed her emails, sure, but I didn’t expect to feel so comfortable around her.

  Her ex is a tool. I know just by talking to her that he screwed her up pretty badly. The minute we started to talk about it, her big eyes got all watery and lifeless. I wanted to change the subject, but I didn’t want her to think I didn’t care. It pained me to see her so hurt.

  I also didn’t expect her to be so pretty.

  Fuck. Did I really just think that?

  A wave of guilt rushes through me, and I feel my body tense uncomfortably. It’s okay if I think she’s nice looking. It doesn’t mean anything. I think Natalie Portman is nice looking.

  I feel guilty for being so angry with her this morning, because now I know just how fragile she is. She was one second away from crying when we talked about her ex, and damn, I didn’t like it—I didn’t like it one bit. And the crazy thing is, I don’t even think she realizes how broken and jaded she is.

  I sit down on the edge of the bed, and I take a few steadying breaths. My eyes wander to the picture on my dresser—the one of Isabel, Matthias, Bria, and me. It was taken a couple months before the accident. I feel my chest tighten.

  It’s been a year, but it feels like yesterday.

  I still miss her. Isabel. I haven’t said her name out loud in so long. Saying it in front of Evi was the first time I’ve said it in… months.

  “Isabel,” I whisper to myself. I don’t ever want to forget the sound of her name on my lips.

  I still wonder how I’m going to get through the day without her.

  Without her smile.

  Without her laugh.

  The pain hasn’t really gone away, and I’m not sure if it ever will.

  Ten.

  Evianna

  911!

  Nick Wilder is hot. I repeat, my employer is hot.

  Please come rescue me. Bring a bottle
two bottles of wine.

  -Ev xx

  I set my phone down just as Nick walks back into the kitchen, freshly showered. I fumble to turn it to silent. I know he can’t or won’t see Violet’s response, but still, it makes me nervous that I was discussing his looks via text message.

  “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” he asks, walking behind me and sending another charged whoosh of air past me.

  “Uh, I had a banana…” I say, pointing to the fruit basket. “I’m not really a breakfast person.”

  He looks at me through narrowed eyes. “Everyone is a breakfast person.” He pulls out a carton of eggs. “Bria still outside?”

  It takes me a minute to respond. Bria. His daughter. Right. Because the guy I’m ogling is her father. Get a hold of yourself, Evianna Marie Hall.

  “No, she came in a minute ago. She went upstairs to change. She refused the clothes I picked out,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

  He chuckles. “Four years old and already dictating her wardrobe.”

  I laugh nervously.

  Why am I nervous?

  Maybe it’s because his fitted jeans hang loosely off his waist, and his flannel shirt is unbuttoned slightly, and I can see a small patch of chest hair.

  What is wrong with me?

  “Where do you want to go today?” he asks as he cracks three eggs into a copper pan.

  “Wh-what?” I’m too busy watching his cooking skills. He pinches some salt, rosemary, and pepper into the pan, adds a dash of cream and a pile of shredded cheese, and flips the omelet in half as it sizzles in the browning butter.

  Yum.

  “I have the day off. Remember? I was thinking we could take Bria to the zoo or the aquarium.”

  “Right,” I say quickly. “Yeah, that sounds good.” I’m a little thrown off that he’s asking me to come with him. This seems like something he might want to do alone with her. He continues. “I thought it might be nice for Bria to get to know you better.”

  I nod enthusiastically, and Nick’s lips curve upwards into a small smile.

  “Sure!” I squeak.

  Now I have to spend all day with my hot employer.