The Nanny Rules

by Melynda Price

  He ushers me inside as a woman who reminds me of a modern-day Julia Childs enters the foyer. “Brody.” She reaches up and clasps his face, pulling him down so she can kiss his cheek. “It’s been too long. I don’t suppose you brought that sweet little girl of yours.”

  “Not this time.” He bends down and hugs the woman. “Mary, this is my girlfriend, Amelia.”

  She turns and gives me the same warm welcome Brody received. I immediately like her. She’s kind, welcoming, and clearly has a soft place in her heart for Brody. Our hosts whisk us away to the living room, and in barely a moment, we’re seated around the fireplace, me with a glass of merlot in my hand and Brody with a whiskey sour in his. My nerves dissolve along with my wine, and by the third glass, I’m having a wonderful time. I especially enjoy hearing Coach’s ribbing stories about Brody and the team’s locker room antics.

  For all Coach’s bluster on the field, it’s obvious he’s an old softie at heart who respects his players and adores his wife. It’s inspiring watching them together. They could almost make the most hardened skeptic believe in love again. I glance at Brody now and then during dinner, wondering if he sees what I see. When he reaches under the table to take my hand, Mary spots the subtle movement and smiles in approval.

  She begins to clear the table while Alan is busy talking to Brody about some charity auction at the end of the month.

  “Let me help you with these, Mary.” I stand and begin gathering dishes.

  “That’s not necessary. You’re our guest.”

  “I don’t mind, really. You made a wonderful meal; the least I can do is help you clean it up.” I don’t give her another chance to object and carry a stack of plates into the kitchen.

  Moments later, Mary joins me. “You know, Stella never would have been caught dead with her hands in a sink of dirty dishes.”

  It surprises me she’d speak so frankly about Brody’s late wife, and yet I’m curious to hear what she has to say. “I didn’t realize you knew her,” I reply, setting the stopper in the sink and adding dish soap to the running water.

  “Not well,” she admits, “but as well as I wanted to.”

  “Is it common for a coach to be so close with his players?”

  “No, but Brody’s special. Then again, I probably don’t need to tell you that.”

  No, she doesn’t.

  “It’s good to see him smiling again. What happened to him and Lily was tragic.”

  I wash a dish, run it under the water, then hand it to Mary who’s waiting beside me with a dish towel. She dries the plate and places it in the cupboard. “He doesn’t like to talk about her. I don’t know very much about his life back then,” I confess.

  “Well, with respect to Brody, I’ll tell you this. I’ve never seen him look so happy. I believe we’ve got you to thank for that.”

  Mary changes the subject to a lighter topic as we clean the kitchen. We’re just finishing up when Brody and Alan make their way in.

  “Just in time—when all the work is done,” Mary teases.

  “Isn’t it strange how I can sense these things,” Alan chuckles, slipping an arm around his wife’s waist and leaning in to kiss her cheek.

  “Thank you for a wonderful supper, Mary. Next time I’ll be sure to bring Lily.”

  “You’d better,” she lovingly scolds him. “I miss that little peanut.”

  Mary and I exchange numbers before we leave, with the promise of getting together for dinner again soon. It’s been a pleasant evening, but I’m ready to go home and settle in with Brody for the night.

  Lily is asleep by the time we get back. Brody invites Julia to stay a while, and since it’s unseasonably warm, he lights the firepit on the patio out back while I grab a bottle of wine and she grabs the glasses. We’re settled in lounge chairs around the glowing flames, Brody’s straddling his with the bottle between his legs as he twists the opener into the cork. I try to keep my gaze averted from the flexing of his biceps as Julia’s probing gaze watches me closely—a little too perceptive.

  “So, Mia, how are things going? My brother isn’t riding you too hard, I hope.” Julia’s question is punctuated by the pop of the cork releasing from the bottle, and Brody shoots her a surprised look that morphs into a scowl. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him blush before. It’s quite adorable.

  I begin coughing to cover my laughter because that’s not how she meant it, but her question sounded so dirty—and applicable.

  “Jesus, Jules, do you hear the words coming out of your mouth?”

  His indignation is hilarious, and I can’t hold back my laughter anymore. If she only knew how very hard he is riding me. But hey, I’m not complaining.

  She breaks into a peal of laughter and holds out her glass for him to fill it. “Oh please, get your mind out of the gutter. You know what I meant.”

  He pours her a glass then leans forward to fill mine, blocking Julia’s line of sight. Brody gives me one of those dimple-flashing, panty-melting grins, and a rush of heat that has nothing to do with the firepit licks through my veins and settles deep between my legs. It’s crazy how much I want him, how insatiable I am for his touch.

  “Things are going great,” I tell her, swooping in and rescuing them from an awkward conversation. “When you told me that Lily was the sweetest little girl I’d ever meet, you weren’t kidding.” I can tell by the way Julia’s acting that Brody hasn’t told her about us. He asked her to pick Lily up from a birthday party this evening and told her we’d be back shortly after, but I don’t think she knows where we were. Unfortunately, sister trumps friend, so it’s not my place to tell her that we’re—what are we exactly?

  I mull that question as the evening passes. The conversation is light, and I enjoy listening to the playful banter between Brody and his sister. It’s like old times, hanging out with Julia, and I realize how much I’ve missed her. We polish off the bottle of wine and break into a second. I push all thoughts of Mason from my mind, focusing instead on enjoying the moment. Tomorrow will surely bring its own challenges, and I have a sinking feeling they’ll come in the form of my brother.

  …

  Amelia

  It’s been a week since Mason showed up at the house. I’m not sure how he got my new number, but I’ve been avoiding his calls for days. I didn’t tell Brody he’s been trying to contact me. He doesn’t need the added stress of Mason in our lives. Right or wrong, it’s the decision I’ve made—the decision to protect him—and I stand by that. But if I’m being completely honest, it’s myself I’m really protecting.

  Brody’s taken a chance on me, and considering everything he’s been through, I don’t think he’d emotionally recover if I broke his trust. If I were to tell him Mason’s my brother and admit that I’d lied to him, that’s exactly what would happen. My knee-jerk decision has placed me in a precarious situation that I see no way out of. I just need Mason to go away so I can put this to rest.

  As if my thoughts summoned trouble, my cell rings, and the constant knot I’ve had in my stomach all week twists tighter.

  I glance at the caller ID and recognize the area code but not the number. I study the screen, debating whether to pick up the call, then finally decide I can’t keep dodging this problem. I glance at the clock on the dash, checking to make sure I have time to take the call before Lily’s preschool gets out. Steeling my nerve, I exhale in frustration and answer the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Amelia Renshaw?”

  “It is.”

  “Hi, this is Malorie West from the University of Minnesota Child and Family Mental Health Services. You interviewed with us a few months ago regarding a position in our out-patient program. I’m calling because we have an exciting internship opportunity that I’d like to discuss with you. We’re opening a new department that specializes in PTSD utilizing EMDR therapy. Dr. Harrison Phillips will be heading up our program.”

  Dr. Harrison Phillips? The man is world-renowned in his field. I wrote my master’s
thesis on his theories in brain development and the effects of PTSD.

  “I recall during your interview that this is an area of interest for you, and we think you’d be a good fit for this program and would like to offer you a position working under Dr. Phillips.”

  I’m speechless. Only another psychologist would truly understand what this would mean for my career. It’s literally the opportunity of a lifetime. My initial burst of excitement fades when my thoughts turn to Brody and Lily. I don’t want to leave them. But my contract is up soon, and Brody has given me no assurances as to what our future holds. This is my dream job and something I can’t turn down without giving it a lot of thought and careful consideration.

  “Hello? Ms. Renshaw?”

  “Yes, I’m here. You just caught me by surprise. I am interested in the job. Thank you very much for considering me for this opportunity. I’m currently finishing up a contract working with a young girl with PTSD. I wouldn’t be free until the end of January, but I’d like some more information about the program before I make a decision.”

  “Absolutely. Let’s set up a time for you to come in, meet the team, and I’ll be glad to answer any questions you have.”

  “I would love to do that, but I’m currently in Ohio and I can’t get away.”

  “No problem. I’ll send you a packet of information highlighting the new program and our vision for the clinic. Once you receive it, call me, and we can discuss any questions you may have. The clinic is tentatively scheduled to open February first. We want to have all our staff credentialed and ready to go by then.”

  “When would you need my answer?”

  “I’ll send the packet to you today and overnight it. Let’s say by the end of next week?”

  “That sounds great. Thank you for thinking of me.” I give Malorie my address, and while my mind is racing with excitement over the prospect of working with Dr. Phillips, my heart is heavy. That I’m even considering taking this job feels like I’m betraying Brody and Lily on some level. But I’d be crazy not to consider it. This is what I went to school for. My desire to help emotionally traumatized children who have been victims of abuse has been the driving force in my life since I was one of those kids.

  The school bell rings. A handful of seconds tick by before the front doors fly open and children begin pouring outside. I spot Lily’s lime-colored jacket and watch as she races toward the lineup of cars. The moment she sees me, her beautiful little face lights up, and she waves excitedly. I wave back, mirroring her grin.

  Joy flows through me every time I see her smile, but now the feeling is bittersweet because I have a very difficult decision ahead of me. Do I pass up the opportunity of a lifetime and stifle my career to stay here and nanny this little girl? Will I even have a job after January? If I didn’t love Lily it wouldn’t be a difficult choice, and if I weren’t falling in love with her father, it wouldn’t be such an impossible one.

  …

  Amelia

  “Come on, Lily. We’re going to be late for dance class,” I call up the stairs, grabbing my cell from my back pocket to see just how late we’re going to be. Awesome. Two more missed calls and a message from Mason.

  Please just give me fifteen minutes and hear me out. I promise after that I’ll leave you alone. You’re the only one I can turn to.

  He needs to stop. And if it takes sitting down and talking to him to make that happen, I’m going to have to suck it up and do it.

  “Mia, I can’t find my tights.”

  “They’re in your bottom right drawer,” I yell, typing out a message to Mason.

  Meet me at Java Joe’s at six. I won’t have much time. Don’t be late.

  Thanks, Mia. I’ll be there.

  I glance up at the patter of feet running down the stairs. Lily is adorable in her pale pink tights and black leotard with little ruffles over the butt.

  “Take a picture of me and send it to Daddy.”

  When Lily reaches the bottom of the stairs, she takes third position, sliding the heel of her front foot against the arch of her back one, then circling an arm in front of her while curving the other over her head. I take a quick pic and send it to Brody. Off to ballet.

  My cell chimes a moment later. I wasn’t expecting him to respond. He should be in practice.

  Adorable. Wish I was there. Give Lily a big kiss for me.

  I will. Taking one for myself, too. ;)

  Baby, I’ve got another kind of kiss planned for you.

  My cheeks heat as all sort of visuals fill my mind. As much as I’d like to hear about all your wicked plans for me, we’re late for ballet. See you tonight.

  “Grab your dance shoes, Lil.” Stowing my cell in my purse, I head for the door.

  “Got ’em.” She comes out of the closet toting her dance bag over her little shoulder and I usher her to the car.

  We pull up to the studio a few minutes later and rush into class. I help her out of her coat, and she braces her hand on my shoulder for balance as she slips her ballet slippers on. “I’m going to grab a coffee really quick. I’ll be back before you finish warming up, okay?”

  “Okay, Mia.”

  She gives me a hug before bolting into the classroom to join her friends, and I rush off to meet Mason.

  As I pull up, I spot my brother sitting at a table beside the picture window. He smiles and waves at me through the glass as though we’re a normal brother and sister just meeting for coffee. I walk inside, order a latte that I don’t have the appetite for, then head over to the table with my stomach in knots.

  “Hey, Mia.”

  Mason stands and greets me with a hug. Despite everything, he’s still my brother so I wrap my arms around him and note he’s thin—too thin. God help me if he’s using again.

  If? Of course, he’s using. Why else would he be here? He wants money from me, that’s what he always wants.

  “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “You didn’t give me much of a choice.” My chest pinches with guilt at my cynical response, but I can’t help it. He’s burned me too many times.

  “You’re upset.”

  He’s observant. I study him closely, looking for the telltale signs he’s using. But his eyes are clear, his hands are steady, and I don’t see any new track marks. If he had twenty more pounds of muscle, he’d look good.

  “I don’t blame you. I’ve put you through a lot.”

  His gaze shifts to his coffee cup and he circles the rim with his thumb. I let the silence hang between us. I’m emotionally exhausted when it comes to my brother. He’s put me through hell and back. After the last time, I promised myself I was done. I can’t keep riding this cycle of addiction with him, helplessly watching him slowly kill himself.

  “I’ve been out of the hospital for eight weeks now.” He looks up and meets my eyes, holding my stare. “I had a lot of time to self-reflect when I was in there. I thought I was going to die.”

  Emotion wells in my throat at the memory of seeing my brother lying in that hospital bed, beaten and broken. Tears burn my eyes and spill down my cheeks. “So did I, Mason.”

  He reaches across the table and swipes his thumb over my cheek, drying my tears. “I never got the chance to thank you for what you did. You saved my life.”

  I didn’t save his life. I ruined it. I know that, and he knows it, too, but he loves me too much to ever say it out loud. I’ve spent the last ten years trying to make up for it and have failed at every attempt. What else can I do?

  “What do you want?” I can’t keep talking about this or I’m going to break down. I’m too raw. “You didn’t come all the way from Minnesota to thank me.”

  He drops his head into his hands and exhales a deep sigh as he drags his fingers through his unruly hair. “No, I didn’t. I’m here because I need your help.”

  Again.

  “I want to get clean, Mia.”

  “Okaaay.” This is new.

  “But I can’t do it on my own. I need treatment—in patient—and t
hat’s expensive. I don’t have any insurance. I’m buried in hospital bills that I can’t pay, and Hazelden won’t take me without a down payment. Once I’m in there, hopefully I can get on medical assistance or something.”

  “How much?” He doesn’t answer me right away. So, I press him. “How much do you need, Mason?”

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  Oh my God. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “No, but your boyfriend does. Hell, Mia, he’s got millions. Can’t you ask him for the money? I’ve gotta get clean, and Hazelden is one of the best rehab centers in the United States.”

  Mason’s putting me in a terrible position. Of course, I want to help my brother. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for him, but how can I ask Brody for that much money? I’d feel like I’d be taking advantage of our relationship, because he may be my boyfriend, but he’s also my boss. And I haven’t exactly been honest with him about Mason.

  “If I had someone else to turn to, I would. You’ve already done so much for me, but you’re all I’ve got. It’s only ever been you and me.”

  He’s right. It has. Mason saved my life, and it cost him his. It’s a debt I’ve been repaying ever since. If I don’t help him, he’s going to fall right back into the cycle of addiction, and one of these times, it’s going to kill him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Relief lights his face, and he shoots from his chair and pulls me into a bear hug, kissing my cheek.

  “Thank you, Mia. I knew I could count on you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brody

  Practice ended early so I’m racing across town to get to Lily’s ballet lesson and I’m making good time. When I turn the corner, I notice Amelia’s yellow Bug parked outside the coffee shop a couple blocks away. The woman has the right idea, I’m dead tired and could use a caffeine boost myself. I pull up behind her car and hop out of my SUV. My feet grind to a halt when I see Amelia through the picture window.

  She’s sitting at a table—with her ex. What the fuck? I watch as he reaches toward her and touches her cheek. She doesn’t turn away, doesn’t try to stop him. She’s been crying.