Page 15 of Clinically Delicious
We stood there, two opposing forces in my living room, the air crackling with tension that wasn’t entirely about Megan’s broken arm.
I should fire her.
Every logical bone in my body screamed that I should fire her.
But then I remembered something: she’d stayed.
When Megan fell, Cate hadn’t run. She’d scooped up my daughter, got her to the hospital, and sat through the entire ER visit even though she must have known she was facing termination. She’d held Megan’s hand during the X-rays, distracted her with terrible jokes during the casting, and hadn’t once tried to minimize her own culpability.
Every other nanny had quit at the first sign of difficulty. Megan’s tantrums, her anxiety, her impossible standards inherited directly from her impossible father—they’d all run. Even Tonya had run, though she’d had the decency to wait until after the divorce papers were signed.
But Cate had stayed.
I sank into the armchair across from her, suddenly exhausted. “Sit down.”
She sat, wariness replacing her defiance.
“You’re right,” I said, and watched her eyes widen in surprise. “The other nannies said no to everything. They were afraid of liability, afraid of me, afraid of Megan’s moods. They treated her like a fragile piece of china instead of a child.”
“Dr. Lyon—”
“Gabriel,” I corrected, surprising myself. “If you’re going to continue working here, you should probably call me Gabriel.”
“Continue?” Her voice was small, hopeful.
“On a probationary basis,” I clarified quickly. “With ground rules. Non-negotiable ground rules.”
She nodded so vigorously I worried about whiplash.
“No skateboards. No rollerblades. No activities that could result in broken bones without proper safety equipment and my explicit prior approval. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“If you’re unsure about something, you ask me first. I don’t care if I’m in surgery, you text me, and you wait for a response.”
“Okay.”
“And, Cate?” I leaned forward, holding her gaze. “If you ever put my daughter in danger again, there won’t be a conversation. There will just be a very swift exit. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the day settling over us like dust after a storm.
“She was happy,” Cate said softly. “Before she fell, she was so happy. She was laughing and proud of herself, and for just a few minutes, she wasn’t anxious or worried about doing everything perfectly.”
I knew exactly what she meant. I’d seen it in Megan’s face at the hospital, even through the pain, a kind of pride, a spark of the fearless child she used to be before her mother left, before the world taught her that taking risks meant getting hurt.
“Next time,” I said, my voice rough, “make her happy with something that doesn’t require an orthopedic consult.”
Cate’s lips twitched. “So... no bungee jumping?”
Despite everything, the broken arm, the hospital visit, the sheer insanity of the day, I felt my mouth curve into something dangerously close to a smile.
“Get out of my sight before I change my mind.”
She stood, relief evident in every line of her body. But at the doorway, she paused.
“Gabriel?”
