Oh. Well, that’s so obvious, I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it myself.
I nod, then realize she can’t see me.
Me: Thank you. I’ll try it.
Sam: Anytime. See you tomorrow.
She sends me a little happy-faced emoji with a curly-haired girl. God, that’s fucking cute.
I don’t know if I should send her… like a heart or… moon or … meme or something?
Me: Goodnight.
Lame, Miguel. So fucking lame.
She sends me a little sleepy moon. She has more personality in a text than I do in my whole goddamn body.
I shake Toni’s shoulder and she turns over and does a whiffling snore. I consider carrying her, but I’m afraid of waking her, or having her wake up in the middle of the night and not know where she is or something. In the end, I find a fluffy blanket and throw it over her.
I go to bed myself, but the whole time I’m worried about the little girl sleeping on my couch. This isn’t right. She should be safely tucked in bed up here, where I can defend her if anything goes wrong. I’ve never worried about burglars until tonight.
So I end up taking my blanket, dragging it downstairs, and sleeping fitfully in the armchair across from Toni. I wake up with a crick in my neck and my eyes heavy as lead, to find Toni staring at me like an inch away.
“Ahhh!” I scream in surprise and nearly fall out of the chair.
She snorts. “Did I scare you?”
“No, I normally like to scream my f—silly head off first thing in the morning. God, you shouldn’t do that to a person.”
I look at my phone to see a few texts from Samantha.
Sam: How’d it go?
Me: Horrible. I suck at this.
Sam: You don’t. You’re just new to this.
Why is she so nice to me? I’m an asshole, who has every intention of running her out of fucking business.
Me: Thanks, but I really am. I didn’t want to wake her but I didn’t want her to get hurt so I slept in my armchair and let’s just say, that stupid thing isn’t cut out for a good night’s sleep.
Sam: If you’d like, I’ll come by and help you tonight, okay?
Oh, Jesus, there is a God.
Me: Like?? Yes, I’d like. And I would be eternally grateful.
Sam: Okay I’ll see you later. All you have to do now is feed her breakfast, make sure she cleans up, and gets dressed.
Me: She can… like, do that herself and shit, right?
Sam: ::crying laughing face emoji::
I huff out a half-laugh, not sure if she’s mocking me.
Sam: Yes. Yes, she can. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh at your expense.
No, she shouldn’t, the little brat.
Me: Go ahead. See where that’ll get you.
No reply. Did I push too far?
Sam: Game on.
Ah. Well then.
I manage not to fuck things up too much. Toni comes with me to work, and Winnie whisks her away to do business. The day flies by. Raul orders more smoothies and I steal one for lunch.
I wonder if Sam has made any progress.
I wonder what she’s thinking about.
I wonder what she’s doing right this very minute.
Jesus.
Finally, around five o’clock, Winnie brings Toni around and smiles. “She’s been a great help to me today, Mr. Santiago.” Winnie is so getting a Christmas bonus.
“Can we go see Sam and Prince now? Please? Pretty please?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I have one final email to send first. Will take about ten minutes.”
“I can take her over for you, sir, if you’d like,” Winnie offers. Double bonus.
“Please.”
When I look up it’s six o’clock, and I’m well over the time I said I’d come. I sigh and stretch, guilt pricking at my conscience. I don’t want Samantha thinking I took advantage of her.
I shoot her a text.
Me: Hey. I’m sorry I got caught up in work, on my way over. Sorry about that.
Sam: All good.
Me: I don’t want to take advantage.
Sam: Yes, we definitely don’t want you to be taking advantage of me, do we?
Is that a flirt text?
Me: Well… if you insist…
She doesn’t respond, and the entire way over to see her, I list the very many ways I can do. Just. That.
Chapter 7
Sam
“Be my nanny, Sam? I promise I won’t run from you.”
“I can’t, honey,” I tell her gently. “I’m sorry.” And I really can’t. I’ve got way too much on my plate already. I did promise Miguel I would help, but only for tonight. “But I’ll come over, just for tonight. I’ll have Allie take Prince home.”
“Please, bring him with you?” Toni asks.
“No.” Miguel’s unwavering on this. “No dogs in my condo. No way.”
He looks tired, poor guy, but still manages to look like he just walked off a man model runway, perhaps jet lagged after traveling internationally or something.
Toni pouts, I sigh, and five minutes later, Prince is on my lap and we’re all heading to his place. Miguel is, predictably, scowling and silently fuming.