Chapter 40

Chase

Gillian seems great. She is polite and professional. She asks questions about Katie—about her eating habits, her preferences, her health—and about me, and what I want for Katie. She talks enthusiastically about how she loves outdoor activities and crafts and introducing kids to music, theater, sports, dance, and whatever else they’re interested in.

I haven’t seen her with Katie yet, of course, but I can imagine that Gillian will be great with her. Katie will love that Gillian knows how to do twelve different kinds of French braids and has memorized the lyrics to all the Frozen songs.

So why don’t I feel any enthusiasm at all about the possibility of hiring her?

It’s a rhetorical question. I know exactly why. It’s because I don’t want to hire a new nanny at all.

I want Liv to stay.

“Katie really loves crafts,” Liv says to Gillian. She’s leaned in chummily, hands on knees, all smiles. “I’ve been teaching her to make friendship bracelets and lanyards and a bunch of other relatively simple thread-craft. I think she might be ready for some sewing, even. She’s got very good hand-eye coordination.”

She says it with pride.

“And I’ve been teaching her some simple cooking and baking, too, and she loves that. We even separated eggs and beat the whites the other day and she only broke one yolk.”

“That’s amazing for five!” Gillian says.

“I know, right? The only thing we really haven’t talked much about is sleep.” She hesitates, turning to me. “Do you want to tell Gillian about the nightmares?”

No.

No, I don’t want to tell her about Katie’s nightmares.

Liv’s so lighthearted, as if leaving Katie, turning her over to someone else’s care, were no big deal. As if leaving, period, were no big deal. But I have no right to be petulant. I knew from the very, very beginning that Liv wasn’t staying.

Still, it doesn’t make this feel any better.

“I don’t know if Liv mentioned, but Katie lost her mother about two months ago.”

“Oh,” Gillian says, stricken. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” I say. “We weren’t married, or particularly close, but you can imagine how hard it’s been for Katie. She still occasionally has nightmares. But if you go in and comfort her, she settles down fast. She’ll just go back to sleep. Otherwise she’s a really good sleeper. No night terrors or waking up and wanting to be out of her bed or any of that. No bed-wetting.”

“And I’d be fine if there were,” Gillian says, beaming reassuringly. “I’ve dealt with that before. I actually did the bed-wetting alarm with the previous family I worked with, and I got up with the kids at night and everything. Two weeks, and no more bed-wetting.”

She smiles at both of us. She really is very competent.

I will be lucky to have her.

I repeat it to myself, for reinforcement: I will be lucky to have her.

Liv and Gillian are chatting away again, about dress-up chests and making magic wands with dowels and card stock and glitter…

My mind wanders back to that day when Liv and Katie and I played make-believe together. How hard I laughed when Liv insisted frogs didn’t talk. The expression on Liv’s face when Katie informed her that she was the ugly, ugly frog. Liv’s mini-lecture on inner beauty. The moment Liv and I locked eyes and pretended to fall madly in love.

“Chase? Do we have any more questions for Gillian?”

I wrench my attention back to the present moment.

“Um, no, I think we’re all set.”

Liv shoots me a puzzled glance. “Okay, then,” she says. “Guess that’s it for now. We’ll be in touch about asking you to come meet Katie, right, Chase?”

“Um, yeah. We’ll—I’ll—be in touch about next steps. Thanks for coming by, Gillian. We’re—I’m—very impressed by what you bring professionally.”

We walk her to the door.

As soon as she’s gone, Liv turns on me, face screwed up with confusion. “What was that about? You sounded like a robot. Don’t you like her?”

“I like her fine.”

“So why were you such a dick to her?”

“I wasn’t a dick. I just—”

I don’t want you to go.

Don’t go.

“I can’t believe you’re so cavalier about leaving her.”

That wasn’t what I meant to say. Not at all. But the words kind of popped out. I know I meant, I can’t believe you’re so cavalier about leaving us.

I know I really meant, I can’t believe you’re so cavalier about leaving me.

She gets a look on her face like she’s been slapped. “You think this is easy for me? No way. It’s really hard. I love Katie. I don’t want to leave her. But you knew all along that’s what was going to happen. Don’t make me feel guilty about it now. I’m trying to make it as easy for you guys as possible. And I don’t owe you anything here, Chase. I did this as a favor to you. You wanted me to watch her. You could have hired someone else and eliminated this whole transition, but you asked me to step in. So cut the crap.”

She’s mad. Really mad. And of course, she’s 100 percent right. I have no right to be mad at her this way. Especially not when I know who I’m really mad at, and what I’m really mad about.

She crosses her arms. “You knew I was going to leave.”

She’s fired up—cheeks pink, eyes sparkling, breath coming fast. And I shouldn’t be thinking about the other times when she looks like that, but she’s reprogrammed my brain and body to want her. Need her. All the time. I can’t ignore those feelings.

I won’t ignore those feelings.

“I did. But things have changed.” I take a deep breath. “I want you to stay.”