My Son's Sitter

Seeing that grave forehead furrow diminish, I say, “Today is just a trial. So, at the end, if you don’t like her, she won’t come back again.”

This sets Winston into a definitive smile.

“So, I’ll be able to spend the whole day with you?”

A guilty arrow pierces my heart.

Leaning over, I collect Winston in my arms, patting his head reassuringly. How do I tell him that, as much as I want to spend each and every day with him, I can’t? That, already, our finances have been suffering from my extended absences from the work I should be doing.

As I pull away, Winston’s four-year-old face is angled towards me hopefully, the sprinkle of freckles on his nose all scrunched up.

“We’ll figure something out, bud,” I tell him, “promise.”

Ding dong dang dong… ding dong dang dong…

Both of us wheel around to the door.

Taking Winston’s hand, I squeeze it.

“That’s her,” I say, putting on my best eager voice.

Because, really, I’m as nervous about this as Winston is. I’ve done everything I could to avoid this moment, and yet, here it is regardless.

I open the door.

“Hi,” the girl says brightly.

After a few seconds, her face assumes a worried look.

“Clayton Matthews, right?”

I still haven’t answered her because, right now, there doesn’t seem to be appropriate words for what I’m feeling.

Boner-inducing sexy. That’s what this girl is. Stevie’s damn lucky that her picture was blurry because I never would’ve hired her otherwise. I specifically avoided the nannies who looked too groomed or just too pretty in general. And while Stevie doesn’t look like she spent more than ten minutes getting ready, she is definitely too pretty for my comfort.

Big innocent baby blue eyes. Flyaway honey brown hair gathered into a sloppy ponytail held by a purple scrunchie. All that atop shapely hips and a generous bust that even her oversize grey t-shirt can’t hide. I tear my eyes away from her.

“Yes,” I say in a clipped tone.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Should I just fire her on the spot? Say that something came up, that there was some kind of mix up?

“And this must be little Winston,” Stevie says. She crouches down to his level, giving him a little wave.

Shielded by my legs, Winston’s head peers out as he waves back with the beginnings of a smile pricking the corners of his mouth.

Shit. Already, he looks charmed. Well, I might as well give the girl a chance. She is here right on time – early, actually.

“Sorry,” I say, opening the door so she can come in, “you just took me by surprise. We were expecting you at noon sharp.”

Attractively buck teeth bite down on the corner of her pink lower lip.

“Sorry about that,” she says, “I bussed here and wasn’t exactly sure where it was. So, I left a bit early to make sure I get here on time.”

She seems to be having a problem looking me in the eye too. Works for me.

“Not a problem,” I say, closing the door behind her.

At the loud sound, she jumps.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

She gives a sheepish smile. “Fine, thanks.”

We stand there awkwardly for a minute, eyeing each other. It occurs to me that I’m the one who’s supposed to be giving the instructions. Not the one waiting on what will happen next.

“So about today,” I say, finally fixing my gaze on Winston, who’s now eyeing Stevie curiously, “the two of you can play in the basement. I’ll check in from time to time just to make sure everything’s going smoothly. In the future, you and he will be left here alone. You’ll be responsible for preparing lunch, but there are ingredients for sandwiches in the fridge. As for payment, since I’ll be needing you from 9 to 4 PM every day, you’ll receive a hundred and forty per night, five days a week, so whatever that is weekly.”

A smile quirks on her lips. “Seven hundred dollars.”

“Oh, a math whiz?”

“I don’t know,” She says, the blue of her eyes becoming an unsettled grey, “that’s partly why I’m babysitting. I mean I love horses, but you can’t really make a career out of that. After high school, I started freaking out because everyone else seemed to have it all figured out, while I could hardly narrow down the five majors I was interested in, to four. I almost ran off to Australia it got so bad. Last fall, though I started off just taking some online University courses part time and so far that’s worked out well, although I still have no clue what I really want to do for a career.”

“I still don’t really know what I want to do myself,” I say with a little laugh, “so while I’d love to reassure you that it gets better … I think there’s always uncertainties.”

Abruptly, I turn away. What the fuck is my problem? This girl is my son’s nanny, not my newest best friend.