by Kendall Ryan
“Pancreatic cancer. The kind that’s on the rare side. The early symptoms are subtle, so by the time they caught it . . . well, I got her the best treatment I could, but . . .” I realize I’m clenching my hands and force them open. “She’s only got a few months left.” Every time I say the words, it becomes more real.
“Oh God. Lexington,” Corrigan says softly. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Poor Bonnie. I always liked your mom.”
I look away under the pretext of checking on Grier. She’s chewing on G.I. Joe’s leg while crashing Flapflap repeatedly into a pile of blocks. “Anyway, I decided we needed to be closer, to be with her. We should have come a long time ago, honestly, but I screwed up.”
“What about . . . after? Will you move back to New York?” Corrigan asks, one eyebrow cocked.
I wonder whether she’d prefer a yes or a no. “I figured we’d stay. I can’t keep uprooting Grier, and besides, this seems like a better place to raise a child.”
“I see,” is all she says.
Corrigan keeps her eyes on mine, and I’m curious what she sees when she looks at me like that. A fuckup? A son trying to stop being so selfish and make amends? Maybe that second one is just wishful thinking.
There’s only silence again. Feeling awkward, I drain the last of my espresso.
Soon, I can’t take it anymore. “Well? Say something.”
“I was more curious about why I’m here, Lexington. We’re not exactly friends.”
“We used to be,” I say in a low voice. The words just pop out, but the second they do, I wish I could take them back, because her features harden and her eyes narrow on mine.
“We used to be a lot more than that.”
A memory flashes across my mind’s eye, playing as vividly as a movie.
Corrigan and me on a warm summer night, sitting on the porch swing behind my house, listening to the cicadas shrill out their love songs, and watching the hunting bats swoop against the bright stars. Holding hands, my other arm around her waist, her head resting on my shoulder. She turned her lovely face up to mine, her eyes shining in anticipation. I bent to her, and for the first time, I pressed my mouth against those full, soft lips. The perfect kiss. And we shared so many firsts after that.
“Did you hear me?” she says, crashing me back to reality. “Tell me what I’m doing here, Lexington. What’s this favor Dak was talking about?”
Well, fine then.
Part of me was desperately hoping to catch up, to find out where we stand with each other and where the last ten years have taken her. But if she wants to keep it all business, I guess I have no choice but to manage that. It’s probably for the best, anyway.
I swallow and rub a hand over the stubble on my jaw. “Well, you’re here because Grier needs a nanny, and when I talked to Dak, he suggested you.”
“You . . . want me to be your nanny,” Corrigan says slowly. “To work for you. In your home. Taking care of your child?”
Shit. I can tell she’s not pleased. Actually, that’s an understatement. If she could, Corrigan would be shooting laser beams out of her eyes right now. She looks that ticked off.
“It wouldn’t be full time or anything,” I say quickly, backpedaling. “I just need someone to look after her while I’m working. And sometimes when I take Mom to appointments.”
She blinks at me as if I’ve grown another head. “How on earth could I possibly do that?”
I’m starting to get irritated despite myself. This hostile reaction isn’t what I expected. Dak made it seem like the obvious solution. But the only thing obvious is that I’m an idiot.
“What do you mean? It works just like any other job. I’d give you money, and you’d—”
“Seriously, Lexington? Do I have to spell it out for you? We have a history, and not a good one,” she says, glaring at me.
Dammit, I’m going about this all wrong. I take a deep breath to compose myself.
“You’re right. We do, and I owe you an apology. Can we start over, please?”
With a slow exhale, Corrigan averts her gaze. “I don’t know. Can we?”
Swallowing my pride, I say the words I should have said a long time ago. “I shouldn’t have dumped you the way I did. I was young and stupid.”
She watches me closely with narrowed eyes, then asks in an acid tone, “That’s your excuse? That’s all you’ve got to say about it?” She stands and snatches up her purse. “Good-bye, Lexington.”
I grab her hand. “Wait!”
“Why should I?” she mutters, but doesn’t pull out of my grasp.
“Because I’ll tell you the truth.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then finally sits back down, still glaring at me.
I let go of her hand and swallow past my suddenly pounding heart. “I . . . I was scared.”
Now she looks confused, as well as angry. “Of what?”
“Of falling in love. Messing up. Breaking your heart . . . or my own. Of betraying your brother’s trust.” The feel of her hand lingers on my skin. “I was about to leave for college, and I thought trying to do a long-distance relationship for four years would be impossible. And even if we somehow made it work, it’d be over anyway as soon as Dak found out.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me all this back then?” Her voice is fragile, and I hate myself for causing it. “I thought we were happy. I would have done anything for you, and then you threw me away out of nowhere.”
“I didn’t know any of this stuff at the time—I was operating off pure instinct. It took me years to figure it out.” I force a laugh. “Like I said, I was young and stupid.”
She says nothing, barely meeting my gaze.
“It was puppy love, Corrigan,” I say softly. “I didn’t think it would last. I thought that if I let it go on, eventually I was guaranteed to do something dumb and hurt you.”
Her response is barely audible. “You did.”
Ouch. Fuck. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
I hurt her. Betrayed her trust. It kills me, even now.
She exhales, loud and shaky. “I have more questions.”
I have no idea whether that means she’s accepted my apology, but I can let it go for now. “Anything.”
She leans forward, her elbows on the table and her gaze keenly fixed on me. “Who is Grier’s mother? How did this all happen?”
My stomach drops as if I’d missed a stair. “If I tell you . . . will you do it?”
Her eyebrows dart up. “Are you seriously trying to bribe me right now?”
“No. Of course not.” I drag my hand down my face. Along with everything else I remember about Corrigan, she’s still just as tenacious too. “Okay, fine. I promise I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But first, I have something to ask you.”
7
* * *
CORRIGAN
When my brother mentioned that Lexington Dane was looking for a favor, I was sure I’d thought of just about every possibility, A through Z. Did he need advice? Maybe he needed to borrow my weed whacker? Or, my personal favorite, did he need a ride to the airport so he could turn around and go straight back to New York where he belongs?
But what he’s asking is crazier and more demanding than anything I ever could have dreamed up.
“Please at least consider it. I need someone to look after Grier while I work, and I trust you.”
I blink at Lexington, half tempted to scrub out my ears to make sure I heard him right. He wants me to look after his two-year-old daughter who, up until twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t even know existed? That’s a much bigger favor then I could have ever imagined, and one that has caught me completely off guard.
I steady myself by grasping the table, watching my knuckles turn as white as the marble countertops next to us.
“Please be her nanny. It would only be part time,” he says, as if that justifies this insane situation. “Just until I can land on my feet. Things are overwhelming with mom right now, and figuring out how to manag
e my New York properties from afar. I need to know I have someone I can count on and someone I can trust entirely with my daughter.”
I stare at my hands, dodging his electric-blue eyes, which I can feel pleading with mine. “I don’t know. There are some really great day cares in town that might be—”
“All the day-care centers are already full for the summer,” he says. “And when I asked Dak, he mentioned that you have the summer off.” Lexington pauses, and when I look up at him, his mouth pulls into a gentle smile. “Congrats, by the way. You’re a teacher, just like you always wanted.”
My mouth opens for a moment in shock before I can snap it closed. Why does he remember my high school dream job? I figured he threw out every memory of me when he left Wilmington.
“I teach first graders, not preschoolers,” I say, turning my head over my shoulder to get a look at Grier.
She’s got a vise grip on that stuffed bat toy, but she seems more interested in our conversation than playing. If she were a bit older, she might have turned away and pretended not to be eavesdropping, but not Grier. She just studies me from across the room with curious blue eyes. “But you’re good with kids,” Lexington says, drawing my attention back to him. “I seem to remember you babysitting your way through high school. Isn’t that how you paid for your homecoming dress junior year?”
I fold my arms over my chest. That’s two really specific things he remembers about me from over a decade ago. And it puts a fluttery feeling in my stomach that I can’t quite identify and don’t want to latch onto.
Am I creeped out that he committed such tiny details of me to memory? Or maybe I should be flattered. Either way, the fluttery feeling needs to go away, because apparently it’s affecting my brain. I’m actually beginning to consider this nannying gig. My teacher’s salary could really use a little extra padding over the summer and he said it’s only part time so I’d still be able to get plenty of beach time in. Plus, I really do feel awful about his mom. I can see how much that’s affecting him.
“Listen . . .” He sighs, planting his forearms on the table in a way that makes it really difficult not to admire how toned they are. “I know it’s a big ask, but I’m really in a jam here. My mom is sick and . . .” He swallows hard, as if forcing down the emotion building in his throat. “I can find someone else, if need be. But Grier’s my whole world. I want her to be with someone I trust.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, letting my gaze sweep from the bill of Lexington’s baseball cap all the way down to the toes of his black sneakers. I can hardly believe this is the same boy from ten years ago. Now he’s a man, all rugged, muscular lines, a perfect contrast to the gentle way he handles his sweet little girl.
One look into those blue eyes, and my mind hums with an old memory. Lex and me, the fall of my junior year, just a week after homecoming weekend, when he asked me out on my parents’ couch while his friends chugged cheap beers upstairs.
He made good on his word, picking me up the next Friday night, making sure Dak was at the football game so Lex wouldn’t be caught taking out his best friend’s younger sister. We got double scoops of chocolate ice cream and walked up and down the beach, chatting about everything under the sun, and eventually, the moon.
And at the end of the night, when the words ran out, he lifted my chin with the tips of his fingers and pressed the sweetest, gentlest kiss against my lips. He tasted like chocolate and salty sea air, and just the feel of his hot breath against my lips sent a tingle straight to my toes.
That first date wasn’t the only first I gave Lexington Dane. In fact, he took just about all my firsts. But we were only kids then. And now he has a kid of his own. A kid he wants me to look after.
I loosen my grip on the table, slowly letting myself return to reality. It would be insane to take him up on this offer. I told Sarah Jo yesterday that I have zero intentions of getting involved with this man again. Taking a job that involves constantly being in his house and around his daughter definitely qualifies as getting involved with him. And how could I be around him all the time, witnessing him in all his hot dad glory, and not feel things? But then again, how do I say no to him and his adorable baby girl?
“Can I think about it?” I say, breaking the silence between us. It may not be the answer he wanted, or even an answer at all, but Lexington still nods, his eyes understanding.
“Absolutely. My assistant in New York can manage things if I need to take a day or two off, and—”
A generic ringtone blares from his pocket, interrupting his train of thought. He fishes his phone out, his eyes narrowing with concern after glancing at the screen.
“Excuse me for a minute,” he says, pressing the green ANSWER icon and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hi, Mom. Everything okay?”
I step into the living room to give him some privacy, where Grier has, for some reason, decided to cram her stuffed bat between the couch cushions. Fascinated, I watch her use her chubby fingers to poke its wings into the crevice until her stuffed animal is nearly hidden from view.
When she spots me heading her way, she pulls it back out, holding it up to give me a good view of its worn gray fur and button eyes. “Flapflap,” she says with a big smile.
She stares at me expectantly until I take it, but once I do, she holds out both hands to take it back, then hugs it tightly to her chest. Yep, toddlers are officially a mystery to me.
When Lexington walks into the room, I can immediately feel the shift in his energy, and panic is written all over his face.
“Mom’s not doing well. I need to get her to the ER.” His gaze bounces between me and Grier and his watch, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head. “I guess I can bring her with me . . .”
I shake my head, huffing out a sigh. “I . . . can look after her.” The words fly out of my mouth without my brain’s permission.
Well, so much for having time to think about it.
His eyes narrow on me, his thick brows pulling together. “Are you sure?”
Am I sure I know what to do with a two-year-old I hardly know, in a house I’ve never been in before? Absolutely not. But I’m not going to tell him that.
“Of course. It’ll be okay. I’ve got her. Just go.”
“I’ll be home as soon as I can.” He glances anxiously at his watch. “An hour, maybe? Hour and a half, tops?”
“Don’t worry about it.” I wave him off toward the door. “We’ll be fine. Just do what you need to do.”
The worry on his face fades into a soft, grateful smile. He pauses for a moment, his brilliant blue eyes locking with mine. There’s something about those eyes that a girl just can’t say no to.
“Thank you, Corrigan,” he says with an appreciative tone. “I’ll pay you for your time, I promise.”
“We’ll discuss it later. Go help your mom.”
With a flourish, he snatches his car keys off the kitchen counter, presses a quick kiss to the top of his daughter’s head, and bolts for the door, rattling off a string of thank-yous as he leaves.
Once again, Lexington Dane has run off on me. At least this time, it doesn’t feel like it’s for good.
But instead of leaving me heartbroken and confused like he did when we were a couple, he’s left me in an unfamiliar house with his single most prized possession—his daughter. Who, by the way, is super not happy about his grand exit.
“Daaddy!” Grier’s face scrunches up as a shriek loud enough to make a siren jealous pours out of her, her little hands reaching desperately toward the door her dad just disappeared through.
Crap.
I suck in a much-needed deep breath. Okay, Corrigan. If you can deal with twenty-five first graders for five years, you can manage a toddler for an hour.
And regardless of age, I can think of one foolproof way to dry the tears of any little kid. Or any adult, for that matter. Ice cream. I guess my first date with little Grier is going to be the same as my first date with her daddy.
Crouching down
to Grier’s level, I offer her a smile. I’m not sure if she’ll let me pick her up, but when I wipe the tears from her soft cheeks with my thumb, she quiets a little.
“Do you like ice cream?”
Grier nods, her lower lip still trembling as she sniffs back her tears.
“Well, your dad will be home in a little while, and I was thinking we should get some ice cream while we wait for him. What do you think?”
If there are any house rules about sugar intake, I don’t know about them yet. Granted, we didn’t exactly have time for a full rundown on house rules before Lexington sped off to take care of his mom. But still, ignorance is bliss, and bliss is a big scoop of cookies and cream.
So I pull Grier into my arms, giving her a little tickle under her arm, which helps her giggle the tears away. That’s better.
We’ll get our shoes on and be eating spoonfuls of ice cream by the beach in no time. But I hardly make it two steps toward the door before Grier lets out another shriek. This one is shorter and more urgent.
“Flapflap!”
It takes me a second to register what she’s talking about, but then she points to the dingy gray bat toy.
“Ah yes, how could I forget?” Hoisting her farther up my hip, I lean down and grab the bat, handing it off to Grier. “Does Flapflap like ice cream?”
She smiles, shaking her head. “No! Eggs!”
“Right, of course. Because all bats eat eggs.”
I stifle a laugh as I head off in search of Grier’s shoes. I guess I’ll be figuring this out as I go.
8
* * *
LEXINGTON
Worry grips me as I ask where to find my mom, then rush to the hospital room at the end of the hallway. When I enter the room, Mom’s sitting up in bed, listening to a doctor.
“—just to make sure,” the doctor is saying, then glances over to me. He looks fiftyish, with more gray than black in his hair, an impressive mustache, and has a strong Southern accent. “Ah, you must be her son. Please make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to the lone chair in the corner of the room opposite Mom’s bed.