And Then You

by Amanda Richardson

  Fuck.

  Thoughtful.

  Good-looking. Scratch that—extremely good looking.

  I am in trouble, that’s for sure.

  My eyes take in his suit—the dark-grey pants and the white shirt that’s unbuttoned slightly, making him seem a bit rough around the edges, like he’s not totally put together. Somehow, that makes what I’m feeling much, much worse.

  Shut this down, Evi. Shut this down now!

  “Thank you. That’s very nice of you,” I say politely, sliding into the seat next to him. I’m acutely aware of how close we are, but I breathe through it, concentrating on mixing in the milk, honey, and berries. I don’t look at him. I can’t. I can’t be that close to him and not get flustered.

  I’m just eating breakfast with my boss. No biggie.

  Nick slides the newspaper over to me without looking, and I have to keep myself from smiling. How domestic. I’m too nervous to read. I’m too nervous to do anything. It must be because he’s my boss. He’s just intimidating… except he’s not, not really. I’m just nervous around him for no reason.

  Just concentrate on eating, Evianna. Stop looking at his hands.

  But I can’t help it. His hands are strong, calloused… but also gentle. He’s a doctor. He has perfect doctor hands.

  Ugh!

  Nick clears his throat and looks at me. I can feel his eyes on my face, my hair, my neck… and my cheeks flush.

  “You sure you’re okay?” he asks quietly.

  I look over at him, and my face softens when I see the concern in his eyes.

  “Yeah, it’s just… my ex.”

  He stiffens, and I’m not sure why.

  “Ah. The ex. Dan, right?”

  “Yeah. And his fiancée, Mia.” I say this quietly and look away. I might be feeling better about the whole thing today, but it still stings. A lot. Nick seems to notice, because he doesn’t say anything or ask any questions. He just watches me as I continue to eat. I see him slide out of his chair and walk to the coffee maker. He pours coffee in a mug and hands it to me across the divider as he props himself up on his elbows, just inches away from me.

  “Black, right?” he says, gesturing to the mug.

  “Yes. Thank you,” I say, taking a sip.

  “Well, I have something that might make you feel better,” he says, leaning down a little lower. Leaning closer to my face. I watch him—he’s facing me directly, and his eyes crinkle upwards into a smile. “We’re going on vacation in November. Yearly tradition.”

  “Wow, fun,” I say, unsure of how that’s supposed to make me feel better. Maybe because it’s paid time off?

  “Do you have a passport?”

  My eyes swing upwards and meet his.

  “Excuse me?”

  “A passport, Evianna. Do you have one?”

  I think of the dark-blue passport sitting in my mother’s safety deposit box. All of a sudden, I’m so grateful she made all of us get one for our trip to Vancouver.

  “Yes,” I say slowly, hesitantly.

  “Good. Because you’re coming with us.”

  “What?” I say, and my heart starts to beat really, really fast. I try to convince myself it’s because I’m excited to go on vacation, and not because I get to go on vacation with Nick Wilder.

  “Tulum. Mexico. Ten days on the beach. I have to attend a conference one of those days, so I’ll need someone to watch Bria.”

  “That’s great!” I say, trying to hide my hesitation. Honestly, I’m not sure what to say. Of course I’m excited—it’s Mexico! And I’ve always wanted to go to Tulum. But… how will I handle ten days of Nick in an exotic, sexy location when just eating oatmeal with him makes me nervous?

  He pushes back from the other side of the breakfast bar and starts to walk out.

  “Just send me your passport info this week. I’m buying the tickets and booking the hotel rooms,” he says, walking down the hall. Rooms. Plural. Duh, Evi. Rooms. Rooms! I hate myself. “Have a good day, Evianna!” he shouts before I hear the front door close.

  He didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go. I mean, I guess I had no choice, but still. He just told me that we were going.

  The sound of the front door closing must’ve gotten Bria’s attention, because she comes skipping into the kitchen.

  “Did Daddy leave?” she asks.

  “Yes, he just left,” I say, putting the oatmeal bowls in the sink. I finish the rest of my coffee in one large gulp.

  “Good. Leth go play!”

  Before I can say or do anything, Bria is dragging me upstairs.

  *

  The day passes slowly. I’m not as energetic as I was yesterday, thanks to the wine, and hanging out with a four-year-old all day is all kinds of exhausting. But between playing with dolls, reading, and building forts, I have a lot of time to think.

  My stomach clenches nervously every time I think of our impending trip. I don’t want to think about how Nick went from this abstract person to… the guy whose hands I stared at. The guy who made me stutter and mumble. But it happened, and the sooner I face it, the sooner I can try and reverse it.

  It’s ridiculous. Really, it is. I’m only reacting this way because he is attractive. Had he been old and ugly, I would’ve continued with my day like normal. Wouldn’t I? But it was more than that, too. It was the way he looked at me on the Wheel yesterday, after suggesting we play Would You Rather. It was the way he cornered me against his car afterwards, unintentionally affecting me more than it should’ve. It was the way he came to say good night last night, and the way he made me breakfast this morning. It was the silent gestures, like getting me coffee and passing me the morning paper.

  It was how much he adored Bria. That was a big one. Probably the biggest of them all.

  But I couldn’t.

  I couldn’t let my new feelings for Nick get in the way of my job. I had a very important job—to look after this little girl, to take care of her. Ogling after her father was not going to help anyone.

  I know they say you can’t choose who you connect with, but I made a decision then and there, right on the floor of the fort as Bria napped beside me, that I was not going to let Nick get to me anymore. I had to put on a poker face.

  And, hopefully, my feelings would just go away.

  Hopefully.

  Fifteen.

  Nick

  Evianna seems to be getting along well here, which pleases me. Bria adores her already. I’m happier when she’s around. She’s—usually—upbeat and witty, as long as we don’t talk about her ex.

  So I don’t understand it when she starts to ignore and avoid me. She thinks I don’t notice, but she walks in five minutes before nine, and then I have just enough time to say good-bye to Bria and leave. It’s like this every day. I made her breakfast for a couple of days, just in case, but both days it went uneaten. So two meals went right into the trash, and I just had to assume that she was eating in the guesthouse.

  And not only that, but she goes straight to her guesthouse every night, even though I always make it a point to invite her to eat dinner with us.

  I hope she’s happy here. I know it probably has nothing to do with me. It’s Dan, her ex, but I can’t help but wonder if she doesn’t like me. I asked some pretty intrusive questions the last time we had a real conversation. I don’t know why I felt compelled to talk to her about her ex, but for some reason I wanted to make her feel better. She looked so broken.

  And she’s really easy to talk to.

  I kind of miss her… in a totally platonic way, of course.

  It’s just nice to have adult conversations with someone other than Cecelia. I’m around kids all day at work, and then I come home to Bria, so I’ve started to kind of look forward to talking to Evianna.

  Even if I don’t see her in person, I always make sure to text or email her good night.

  Always.

  Sixteen.

  Evianna

  My plan worked, more or less, but it involved avoiding Nick a
t all costs. I do stop thinking about him most of the time, but I also hardly ever see him. Luckily for me, he doesn’t take any more days off, and in the mornings I make sure to eat breakfast by myself, in my guesthouse. He is always really tired when he gets home at the end of the day, too, so that makes it easier to leave quickly.

  Nick doesn’t say anything to me that first morning—the first morning that I don’t show up for breakfast, but I do notice an awful lot of uneaten omelet in the trash later that day. The next day, there is oatmeal in the trash, and I consider ceasing my Nick embargo and sucking it up—it’s wasting food, after all. But the day after that… nothing. I guess he finally got the hint.

  A couple of weeks pass, and each day Nick comes home exhausted from his job. I always leave immediately to my guesthouse, equally as exhausted from playing with Bria. He always invites me to stay for dinner, but I always decline. I almost never go into the house except for work. On my weekends off, I visit Violet and my family, grocery shop, and run errands. I even make a trip to Target to get some decorations, like a duvet cover and some wall art, as long as it gets me away from the vicinity of Nick.

  The money is nice, which is also a good reminder of why I’m avoiding Nick. I do need a job, and I put most of my paycheck straight into the bank. I even do some research about teaching abroad, and I bookmark a website with information about the certificate that I need to obtain in order to do so. One day, I think.

  September passes into October, and the leaves begin to change colors. This is my favorite time of year in the Pacific Northwest. It’s cool, but not cold yet, and the air is crisp. I always feel really inspired and happy in the fall. Bria begins going to a Pre-K class one morning a week, so I dedicate that time to reading. In my guesthouse, of course, away from Nick. It’s nice to have dedicated me time.

  On the other four days, Bria and I do all sorts of things. We go to the park, museums, the beach, the library (my favorite activity), bake cookies, and watch movies. I have yet to bake my famous cupcakes.

  Bria and I even survive a few all-nighters together while Nick teaches in Portland once a week. I convinced Nick to let Bria sleep in my room, in the guesthouse, to minimize any possibility of ending up in his bed again because of a nightmare. Bria loves it. She calls it a sleepover. And so far, she hasn’t had any more nightmares.

  It’s fun being Bria’s nanny. I never knew kids could be so much fun. I wake up excited to go to work, so that’s good I guess. Cecelia stops by every few days to say hello and hang out.

  The second week of October, Nick forwards me an email with our flight confirmation and our hotel information. I’ve come to dread the upcoming trip, because I know I’ll be unable to avoid him. I’m lying in bed—it’s late, a Friday night, and it’s been a grueling week. Bria got roller blades, and Nick bought some for me, too, so I could ride with her. My thighs ache, and I’m just about to go take a bath.

  I send a quick reply—something along the lines of—Okay, great!

  Just as I shut my computer down, my phone dings, and I see Nick’s name pop up.

  I’m not surprised. Nick’s taken to emailing and texting me about things rather than talking to me directly. He even texts me every night to say good night. It’s sweet, but I try not to overanalyze it.

  I read his current text, and I have to read it twice, three times, because my jaw is on the floor.

  You awake?

  I glance at it, and my palms begin to sweat.

  You awake? What the hell does that mean?

  I quickly text Violet. Maybe it’s totally innocent.

  But I can’t help but feel like there’s a certain weight behind his words.

  CALL ME! EMERGENCRY.

  NICK ASKED IF I WAS AWAKE.

  FREAKING OUT.

  I wait for her call, fidgeting anxiously. It takes her a few minutes, and my eyes scan the letters in Nick’s text over and over and over. I pick up halfway through the first ring.

  “Fi-nal-ly!” I say, out of breath.

  “Sorry, I’m with Marcus,” she replies, clearly annoyed.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “So, what happened?” I explain the situation. She’s already been filled in on my Nick embargo and the upcoming trip to Mexico, so it doesn’t take long. When I’m done, I hear her whistle. “Hold on, let me ask Marcus,” she says, and before I can stop her, I hear her mumbling to him. A few seconds later, Marcus comes on the line. “Yeah, he’s totally looking for some lovin’, Ev.”

  “Marcus!” I screech. “Seriously. Tell me. What should I say back?”

  “Ev, just the fact that you’re calling Vi about what you should say shows me that you’re already a total goner for this dude.” I sit there silently as I hear Violet mumble something in the background. Then she’s back on the line. “Marcus is right. He wants to see you. I say, just walk up to the house and knock on his door. Wear your sexy lingerie,” she whispers.

  Exasperated, I hang up on them.

  They are not helping right now.

  I take a few steadying breaths and reply.

  Yes. Why?

  I wait. It feels like eternity, but he replies within two minutes.

  Couldn’t sleep. Figured you couldn’t, either. I made cupcakes. I thought you promised me cupcakes when I hired you? I feel like maybe I was swindled into hiring you since I had to do it myself.:) Meet me in the kitchen.

  I stare at my phone for a good five minutes. He wants me to meet him in the kitchen? He didn’t even ask. And… is he flirting with me?

  I can’t even get up the courage to text Violet. It’s pretty damn clear. Nick Wilder wants me to meet him in the kitchen to eat cupcakes at almost midnight. I’m not surprised when I find myself leaping off of the bed and checking my reflection in the mirror, because of course I’m going. This is going to totally ruin the whole Nick embargo, but I can’t turn down cupcakes.

  At least that’s what I tell myself.

  I’m wearing pajamas, but I decide to keep them on because they’re semi-cute.

  Oh my god, Evi, it doesn’t matter if they’re cute.

  I scowl at my makeup-less reflection.

  Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Nick is just being nice by offering me some cupcakes. If I take too long, he’s going to think I was getting ready.

  Fuck. Now I care about what he’s going to think about what I think about all of this.

  I grab my keys and go before I change my mind.

  And I really don’t want to change my mind.

  Seventeen.

  Evianna

  I see Nick through the sliding glass door before I open it. I watch him for a few seconds before interrupting him. He is wearing flannel pajama pants and a plain black T-shirt that fits snugly around his biceps. I gleefully notice that he is also wearing slippers—almost exactly like the pair I have on. In fact, we almost match, unintentionally. I look down at my plain black long-sleeved shirt and patterned pants. My slippers are blue. His are red.

  Now I’m analyzing our matching slippers?

  I fumble with the door, but I almost don’t want him to see me yet. He’s dancing around, probably to music, and he’s frosting a batch of cupcakes.

  Ugh.

  The Nick embargo clearly didn’t work. It only seemed to make my feelings so much stronger. Before I decide my next move, his face whips up and he catches me looking at him through the glass.

  Damn it.

  I open the door quickly and enter, keeping my eyes down as I close it behind me. Music is playing loudly, but not too loudly because of Bria.

  “Who is this?” I ask, pointing into the air, referring to the catchy song currently playing.

  “The Strokes,” he says, grinning. “My favorite.”

  “I like them, too,” I say, and suddenly, I’m so nervous.

  What am I even doing here? What are we doing? Is there even a we, or is it all in my head?

  “Show me how you make these magical cupcakes you spoke of in your first email to me,” he suggests, holding
a mixing bowl out to me.

  I glance into it.

  “Holy shit, are these homemade?” I say.

  He laughs. “Yes. Why?”

  I don’t say anything at first. I just stare at him. “Nothing,” I say, laughing. But I can’t believe a man made cupcakes from scratch. That’s probably sexist, but still… one more point for Team Nick.

  He looks me up and down. “Hey, we match.”

  I don’t know why, but my cheeks flush.

  “Looks like it,” I say quietly, appraising him. I grab the bowl from his hands and stare into it. I walk over to the already-papered cupcake pan, and he watches me as I slink over. I begin to fill each paper with the proper amount of cupcake batter. They’re chocolate. My favorite. “Why are you making so many cupcakes?”

  “They’re for Bria’s birthday.”

  I spin around. “When’s her birthday?” How did I not know this? I’m the worst nanny ever.

  “Tomorrow,” he says, smiling. “Or today, I guess,” he adds, looking at the clock. “I thought I told you.”

  I rack my brain.

  “No, I don’t think you did. I didn’t get her anything!” I say, slightly panicked.

  He laughs again. He’s in a really good mood.

  “Don’t worry about it. She’ll be happy just to spend some time with you. She adores you.” His voice lowers as he says the last part, and he looks at me with inquiring eyes, like he’s trying to discern why she likes me so much.

  “She’s a great girl,” I say honestly. “So happy. It’s hard not to be happy around her.”

  Nick slumps a little bit and looks down.

  “Yeah,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “Do you have plans tomorrow?”