She scooched on the bench behind the tiny table, taking a seat next to Brady, across from Blake, and began to fix a bowl while her children chatted her ear off about alien invasions and how to protect yourself if there’s an attack. Once they finished their ice cream, Mel escorted them into her bedroom and flicked on a movie. “I need a few minutes with Mr. Blake, and if you’re good, I’ll give you bubbles for a bath tonight. Deal?” she asked.
They agreed, all three of them yawning and looking sleepier than she’d seen them in a long while. She turned and closed the door behind her, then made her way back to the kitchen table, ignoring the flutter inside her chest as she approached.
She slid into the chair across from him and picked up her spoon, toying with the remaining ice cream in her bowl. It should be weird sitting across from him—a virtual stranger. Other than the interview stuff, neither of them knew each other very well. Little details, really. But somehow, it wasn’t so bad, and Mel’s desire to find out what changed today from last week dissolved any lingering awkwardness. “So it looks like today went better, huh?
“You could say that.” Blake pushed his empty bowl away from himself and leaned back in his chair.
“Well, I don’t know what you did, but they’re the happiest I’ve seen them in a while, and the apartment . . .” She glanced around her. “I haven’t come home to a clean place since they were babies. So, thank you for that. Even when my mother used to watch them, it looked like a warzone when I got home.”
Blake shrugged, and Mel’s gaze zeroed in on the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “I remembered that I needed to be the boss, and I might have done a little research.”
Mel cocked her head with a grin. “Research?”
“I Googled some things.” He chuckled. “Then I tried to turn a lot of stuff, like the cleaning, into a game. Sorry about the ice cream, I—”
Mel barked out a laugh. “I’m not complaining.”
Blake exhaled and leaned onto the table, talking with his hands. “I thought maybe we’d start a reward system. Something simple, but maybe it could get them back on track with picking up their stuff and helping more. I know they’re young, but there are still some things they could probably do.”
Back on track? When were they ever on track?
A twinge of guilt squeezed her chest. She knew she hadn’t given the kids the discipline they needed over the years. Not only because she was run ragged half the time, but, if she was honest with herself, for a long time, she compensated for their father’s absence by giving in far more than she should’ve. At first, it had been so much easier. Letting them have their way seemed harmless, like a sort of compromise since they couldn’t have a dad. It was stupid, and wrong, and did her no favors. She saw that now. She needed to make some serious changes, and if Blake—a man who had only known them for a week—could do it, then so could she.
“That sounds great. Just let me know what I can do to help,” she said, then she scrubbed her hands over her face and grimaced. “You probably think I’m awful.”
Blake’s expression turned serious. “What? No.”
When she didn’t move, he reached out and placed a hand on her arm. His touch was firm and warm and comforting. It was exactly what she didn’t know she needed at that moment, and when she instinctively leaned into the touch, her cheeks heated with embarrassment. How lonely was she? That she was taking comfort in her nanny?
For reasons she couldn’t explain, tears pricked the back of her eyes. She was falling apart, and she was about to do it in front of him. But her exhaustion trumped the energy to care how stupid she looked. She had been do
ing her best for four years, trying her hardest day in and day out, yet in six days, Blake had accomplished more than she had. The truth stung.
“Hey, Mel, look at me.” He squeezed her arm, his voice firm.
She did her best to force the tears down, blinking her eyes until she knew it was safe to lift her gaze.
“You’re doing great. Those three kids are imaginative, spirited, and loving. I mean, I don’t know much, but I’m pretty sure they’re everything a four-year-old should be. Cut yourself some slack.”
She nodded with relief. He was right. She was doing the best she could. With the stress of a new job, she was simply being emotional.
“I did want to ask you something though,” he said and waited until she nodded for him to go on. “It’s about the potty thing . . .” he trailed off, glancing down at his hands as though he hated to bring it up.
Mel groaned and scrubbed a hand over her face. “I know it’s bad. They were all potty trained, have been for a year.”
“It’s just Peter.”
Mel nodded, then bit her lip, picturing Peter. He was all sandy blond hair, skin the color of cream, blue eyes, and knobby knees—the picture of his dad. “I could be totally wrong, but I think when my parents moved, it hit them hard. My dad worked long hours, so they didn’t see him as much, but my mother was here four days a week. Putting them in daycare full time was a shock. It wasn’t so bad at first, but after a couple weeks, the accidents started, and they got booted. Or, at least Peter did, but it’s not like I’m going to split them up. I can’t blame them. No preschool-based care centers around here will take four-year-olds who aren’t potty trained. Out of desperation, I hired a nanny in the hopes we could get him back on track and try again. But their behavior escalated, and so did the revolving door of nannies. They’re not usually so . . . spirited,” she said because she hated the word “bad.” “Peter’s regression hasn’t improved yet, and I don’t know what to do about it,” she said, her voice thick.
Blake pursed his lips, seeming deep in thought before he said, “That makes sense. In that case, it’ll probably just take time. Stability would be the best thing for them.”
“Ah, yes, stability. You mean like hiring someone, yet again, who will be leaving us?” She snapped her mouth shut, then added, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s a fair statement.”
“Still, it was uncalled for. Besides, the plan is to get them back into school.”
Silence settled over them for a moment before Blake cleared his throat. “Maybe talk to him about it? Don’t ignore it. Address it head-on, then give it time. I don’t know. What do I know? You don’t need to listen to me.”