Page 119 of Seasons of Love
ELLIS
A week later, I find myself fidgeting as I wait for Milo to arrive for his first day.
I move the coffee table in the living room and lay a couple of blankets and extra pillows on the carpet. If Sara is crawling as much as Marnie was at her age, I don't want her to get hurt.
Everything else is tidy and clean. I’m on my third cup of coffee and resisting having any of the cream-filled brioches because that’s a slippery slope when I’m already this nervous.
Why am I even this nervous?
Because you’re about to have a hot young guy working in your backyard. That’s why.
The last person I expected to answer my sister’s ad in the paper was Milo, but after the walk through the backyard and hearing his ideas, I know I made the right decision.
Not only did he seem to get my hopelessness when it comes to gardening or looking after a backyard, but he also had some fantastic ideas to keep it simple and manageable.
As an added benefit, I know I’m helping him too. If I ever see Milo eat a meal like he did at the soup kitchen, I want to know it’s because he’s enjoying it, not because it’s the only one he’s had that day.
When we discussed pay rates, he asked for such a paltry amount I had to check with Alice if that’s really how much a landscape gardener—or whatever they’re called—gets paid.
After that call and some research, I decided on my own pay rate. Thankfully, Milo agreed when I asked if I could just transfer the money directly into his bank account.
I’m not stupid enough to think he won’t notice or question the amount, but I’ll deal with that when it comes.
There’s a knock on the back door. I jump in place and let out a squeaky noise I hope goes unheard.
“Sorry,” Milo says as I open the door. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted you to know I’m here, and if it’s okay, I’ll leave my assistant inside.”
I peek into the stroller. “I’m not sure she’ll be assisting much.”
Sara is asleep, and from her cute little snores, it sounds like she’s down for the count.
“Yeah. She had a rough night. She’s teething, so we were up quite a bit. After I gave her some formula, she settled a bit and then fell asleep during the walk here.”
I help Milo get the stroller inside without disturbing Sara.
“Are you sure it’s okay for her to stay here? I don’t want to give you any work. I’m the one who’s supposed to work here,” he says.
“You kidding? Like staring at her adorable face is any work.”
He snorts. “Just wait till she wakes up.”
“That’s when it’ll mysteriously be your break time,” I say, winking.
He chuckles. “Right, let me get started. I don’t think you need to rent a dumpster because a few large bags might be enough for the trash you have here.” He rubs his hands together and smiles before taking a pair of gloves from the back pocket of his jeans. “Let me see what treasures you have in that shed.”
Milo has an old baseball cap in his pocket that he puts on backward as soon as he’s outside.
Fuck my life.
Okay, I may be in my forties, but a guy in ripped jeans, an old T-shirt, and a broken-in baseball cap worn backward will never not be sexy.
“Sara, your dad is going to be the death of me.” And as I say it, she lets out this tiny sound like she’s dreaming and her lips form a tiny O. Her hands ball into fists, and I think she’s going to wake up, but she settles again.
Ignoring the paperwork I was working on at the kitchen island last night, I take the stroller farther into the kitchen. I stop by the table, pull up a chair, and sit down, staring at Sara.
“He’s the same age as you now. Nine months. I didn’t even get to see him.”
How can a person grieve the absence of someone they never met? Someone who was never theirs to start with?
