“What’s the story with the baby?” Grandma says at last.
I sigh. “A boy. Two years old. Rhett needs to hire full-time childcare on obviously very short notice. Since I’m . . . er, underemployed at the moment, he put two and two together, and . . .” I make jazz hands. Will the floor to crack open and swallow me whole. “There’s the story.”
“Amelia.” Rose stares at me. “I honestly don’t know what to say. I find it hard to believe Rhett wouldn’t want anything to do with his own son. Just seems so wrong.”
“Oh, no, Grandma. The mother—Liam’s mom—didn’t tell Rhett about the baby. From what I understand, he only knows about Liam because the mom died, and her best friend reached out to Rhett.”
Rose’s hand goes to her throat. “How tragic for that little boy. But I’m glad to hear Rhett’s stepping up and taking responsibility.”
I am too. Not that I didn’t think he was a stand-up guy. He’d just always been a little self-absorbed.
Falling back in my chair, I twirl the glass in my fingers. “I need your advice, Grandma. A part of me thinks this is a really dumb idea. But another part thinks it could be a great way to pay my bills and repair my reputation until I can get my job back. Or a job at a school somewhere in the Asheville area.”
“What’s your plan?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Nuria let me go today, obviously. It was awful. But she did give me some advice. She said to lie low for a while. Be on my best behavior. That way, when things quiet down, she and I can have a conversation about coming back to work at Woodward. At the very least, I’m hoping she’ll give me a recommendation if I show her I can be trusted to, you know, not sleep with the men I work for. Work with. Whatever.”
There go those eyebrows again. “And you think nannying for your very handsome, very muscular, and yes, very wealthy ex-boyfriend is going to help you prove that?”
“He’s not that handsome.” I sound defensive, probably because I’m full of shit. But I push ahead anyway. “It’s been nine years, Grandma. I’m not in love with Rhett anymore, and he’s not in love with me. I can say with perfect certainty we’ve both moved on. I’m also not a hormonal teenager who makes questionable decisions.”
I’m a twenty-seven-year-old teacher who makes them, thank you very much.
I shove the thought from my head. I’ll take my share of the blame for what happened with Jim. But at the end of the day, he’s the one who lied to me. As long as I’m honest with myself, I’ll be okay.
Rose chews thoughtfully for a long beat. “I loved Rhett like a son. When the two of you ended your relationship, I think I was a little heartbroken too. But you seemed to have a good reason for parting ways.”
“We did.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin. “We want totally different things. You should see his house—it has to be the biggest, flashiest thing I’ve ever been in. And all the cars he apparently has?” I roll my eyes. “He’s exactly who he wanted to be. The rich and famous athlete, living his big life in Las Vegas of all places.”
Grandma smiles. “Not for you, I take it.”
“Nope. I’m all about the simple life. A teaching job I love. A little house where I can raise my little family. And you, close by. I love the mountains. Always have. Don’t get me wrong, you know I love to travel too. But at heart, I’m a homebody, and Asheville is and always has been home.”
“So no chance of a reconciliation.”
“None.”
Another thoughtful pause. “And no chance of you having a moment of weakness? Pardon my bluntness, but you can keep your hands off him, right?”
The thickness in my throat returns. Is Rhett even hotter than he was when we dated? Of course. But I’m not interested in dating someone like him now. I really do want a simple life. One without the complication of Rhett Beauregard.
“I have to, Grandma. Yes.”
Rose meets my eyes and nods gently, once, twice, three times. “Okay. If that’s the case, then I think you should take the nannying job. Just be careful, all right? Set very clear ground rules from the beginning. Because if I were in your shoes—”
“You’d plunder that booty,” I say, laughing, and she squeezes my hand. “I know.”
Chapter Eight
Rhett
“Goddamn son of a bitch,” I grunt. Sweat breaks out under my arms and along my scalp as I attempt to jam a screw into a bright green plastic table leg shaped like the trunk of a palm tree.
“Easy,” my older brother Beau murmurs. “You’ll break it.”
“How? I can barely get this fucking screw in there. Thing’s a tank.”