Page 57 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
“She had to go,” Leo says smoothly. “Now, about the naked nanny—”
“Is the nanny living here?” Joey asks.
“Childcare provider,” I correct, pouring some firmness into my voice. The nanny talk is just for Maddie and me. “And she needed a place to stay, so I offered—”
“So sheisliving here?” Sloane asks. “Bram, what the fuck?”
I heave a deep breath. “Okay, yes. She’s living here.”
“Does Sara know?” is her loyal follow-up.
“Sara knows,” I explain patiently. “I told her the day I offered my spare room to Maddie. She’s living here until she can afford her own place because she spent the last four years dating an asshole. She’s great with the kids, hilarious, smart, and it’s just temporary. I have the room to spare.”
They all stare at me with the same half-suspicious, half-amused expressions, and I regret everything in my life that means these people have known me for twenty years or more and can tell when I’m hiding something.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t keep trying to hide it. My breakfast of champions, my Sharpie notes, why the jasmine plant in my greenhouse gets me hard now, that should all be mine and mine alone.
“Anyway, back to Joey,” I say quickly, grabbing a beer. “Let’s have a toast to the fourth Kemp baby!”
Chapter Nineteen
Maddie
The dark gray clouds are heavy and low above the fields of cornstalks. The rain cleared just long enough for the Mount Astra School District to go on as planned with their annual Fall Frenzy.
Mount Astra High School has two booths. Fern and Simon agreed that they would each take a booth and whoever raised the most money would decide what the funds from the event would be earmarked for. Fern wanted to dedicate money to making the menstrual products in the bathrooms free to use while Simon’s plan was to fund a live band for prom instead of the usual DJ—who was just one of the teachers from the math department who called himself DJ Alge-bro. It’s not that Simon’s plan is bad. It’s that Fern’s is better. Which was why I highly encouraged her to use every advantage available to her.
The moment Leo heard there was competition to be had, he demanded that the Saint James Chocolate Co. sponsor Fern’s booth. So until just a moment ago, I’ve spent the last two hours helping Saint James employees and student volunteers give out free hot chocolate and s’mores truffles to everyone who purchases a ticket to the corn maze.
After I relinquish my apron to the next round of volunteers, I find a familiar scene just outside the tent.
“Where is that feckless little twat?” Sloane asks from where she stands with her arms crossed as she paces up and down the side of the Saint James Chocolate Co. sponsor tent. “Show your face, coward.”
Bram stands at the mouth of the corn maze where Fern stationed him to take tickets. The orange volunteer T-shirt he wears over his green and black flannel is a size too small and stretches over his chest and biceps in a way that makes the other single parents notice and it’s very difficult for me not to hiss at them in response. “I agree that Simon is a human stinkhorn mushroom, but maybe we could avoid calling Fern’s copresident a twat. At least at a school function.”*
“A stinkhorn would smell less like Target-brand body spray, at least,” Sloane mutters.
“Or maybe he should avoid being a twat, has he ever considered that?” Leo asks lazily as he lounges on top of a picnic table between Sloane and Bram, his arms braced behind him and the core of an apple teetering next to his hip. He glances up and is immediately amused by my presence. “Ah, the nanny.”
Bram’s head snaps up and his pupils widen when he sees me. “Childcare provider,” he corrects.
The smile I give Leo is nearly virginal, and Bram lets out a soft, involuntary hiss.
“Ah, the loiterer,” I say to the chocolate magnate.
Leo scoffs, but I can see he’s eager for a good verbal spar. “I am hardly a—”
“She’s not wrong,” Sloane chimes in as she taps a finger along the edge of her chin.
“You guys,” Fern says, her face flushed as she rounds the corner.
Bram’s attention immediately shifts. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Where are the twins?”
“Nothing. Yes. And with Jules and her family, because I had to run over here to tell you that Simon and I just raised the stakes of our bet. Whoever fundraises the least has to step down as copresident.”
“Please say that was your idea,” Leo says. “Does your ticket booth accept out of country wire transfers? We’re going to bury this hormonal dipshit.”
“Leo,” Bram warns.
