Page 88 of The Nanny Game Plan
Ava tuts at me. “Bad Daddy, you have to read faster.” She gives my cutting board another meaningful look, “Just like you need to do other things faster…”
Clover snorts again, and I hurry to finish shredding the chunk of cheese in my hand, making a mental note to ask Maybelline if she wants to pick the girls up from preschool, or if I should arrange for them to be dropped off by the bus when she takes over after-school care next week.
She couldn’t commit to evenings or overnights—she teaches college classes and poetry workshops at night—but knowing my afternoon sitter needs are covered by someone the girls love makes me feel so much better. Now, I just need to find an overnight solution between now and the end of the week, when I go back to work, and my childcare situation will be sorted.
Then, I can concentrate on other, equally important things…like convincing Clover to move in with us for real.
Having her across the lawn is good, but having her next to me every morning? Well, that sounds so fucking perfect, I have to fight the urge to lean over and steal a kiss right now. But we’re still playing the “just friends” game in front of the kids, so I settle for admiring her ass as she loads the empty tomato sauce pan into the dishwasher.
“That’s better.” Ava nods her approval as I deliver a large handful of cheese to her pizza a moment later. “Just in time, Daddy. Good job.”
“Now me, Daddy,” Bella demands. “My mushrooms want cheese in their bowl. They want to go swimming in cheese before they lay down on my pizza and go night-night.”
Before I can explain that the mushrooms can’t swim in the cheese until it’s melted, and that has to happen in the oven, my phone buzzes on the counter. I glance down, expecting Elly, calling to confirm our playdate for tomorrow, but it’s…coach.
Coach Merwood never calls me. We text occasionally, but we don’t have a “ring-me-up-anytime” kind of relationship.
“Hey, quiet for a few minutes, girls, okay?” I ask, wiping my cheesy hands on a kitchen towel. “I need to take this. It’s work.”
“Okay!” Bella shouts only to be immediately shushed by Ava, who says, “Quietquiet, not loud quiet.”
“Okay,” Bella repeats in a stage whisper that has me grinning despite the anxiety fluttering in my stomach as I answer the phone. “Hey, Coach. What’s up? Everything alright?”
“Good evening, Dean. Sorry to interrupt at dinnertime, but we’ve had an incident.” Coach Merwood always sounds a little like a sea captain at the prow of a ship in bad weather, but tonight his voice is graver than usual. “A rookie incident. No one’s dead or maimed, thank God, but turns out Reed never learned to ride a bicycle as a child.”
“Wow. Okay.” My brow furrows as I do my best to connect those dots. “I’m guessing he decided to learn, and it didn’t go well?”
“It went to shit is where it went,” Merwood says, sounding so utterly disgusted, I have to fight a laugh. “He decided it was a good idea to go from learning how to pedal without his training wheels to jumping hills on the dirt bike course. Now, his ankle’s broken in two places, and he’s out for the rest of the season.”
I wince. “Ouch. Poor kid.”
“Poor, dumb kid,” Merwood corrects. “A kid with a nasty case of hubris.”
Hubris. Huh… I’m pretty sure that has something to do with Greek tragedy and getting too big for your britches, but I’m not one hundred percent certain.
Maybe Ava’s right.
Maybe Idoneed to make more time for reading.
But that time isn’t now, not with Coach telling me he needs me back on the ice for a road trip ASAP to fill in for our down-and-out rookie.
“Seven a.m. tomorrow? Okay. Um, well…” I pull in a deeper breath as my thoughts race. “I don’t have the overnight childcare situation worked out yet, Coach. I have weekdays covered, and a couple of leads on overnight care, but …” I trail off as Clover waves her hands frantically between us. “Just a second, Coach.”
“I’ll watch them,” she whispers. “It’s fine.”
I frown, covering the speaker as I hiss, “No, I can’t take advantage of you like that. I’ve been talking to Elly about leaving the girls with her, just for the next few weeks, but Tasha does have a few emergency nannies who do?—”
“Stop. You’re not taking advantage,” Clover says with a shake of her head. “I’m happy to stay with them. And I literally have nothing to do until my shift on Saturday night, it’s totally fine.”
“I’d be back by Friday morning,” I assure her. “Way before your shift.”
“Good, then we’re set.” She lifts a hand in a motion that says it’s sorted. “Tell Coach you’re good to go. There’s no reason you should rush into having a stranger stay with the girls. You should take your time and make sure you have the right person, so they feel safe and excited about nights when you’re away. And in the meantime, I’ll be your go-to. No problem.”
Still not sure that’s the best choice for the health of our fledgling relationship—but knowing finding someone else by tomorrow would be a nightmare—I say, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Uncovering the speaker, I tell Coach, “Okay, I’ve got childcare covered. My former nanny is going to fill in just this once. See you in the morning.”
“Good man,” Merwood says, relief in his gruff voice as he adds, “tell your nanny thank you from me, too.”
Smiling, I say, “Will do,” and end the call. “Coach says thank you,” I tell Clover, before waving the girls away from the table. “Go wash your hands and clean up for dinner, girls. The pizzas won’t take long to cook, and the salad is ready. We need to go ahead and eat, so I’ll have time to pack after dinner.”
