Page 11 of Summer Salvation
“That’s because it’s good for you,” I say as I shuffle over to the coffee pot. “Thank you for making breakfast, Hadley. I don’t want us to take up any more of your time.”
“Well, if you think you can handle it,” she says, holding out the bowl of batter to me, a challenging gleam in her eye.
I look inside the bowl and pretend to frown. “You forgot something.”
“What?”
“Chocolate chips,” I tell her with a wink.
Throughout breakfast, I feel almost like an interloper as she carries on with the kids, laughing and joking, talking about dogs they met on the beach, or shells they found. The bond they all seem to have is so strong it’s hard to believe she’s only been their nanny for a week. Guilt creeps up inside me because I’m supposed to make my children laugh and smile, but when Serena left, it was hard to even look at them. They remind me of her, especially Piper, who is her mother’s twin.
I notice Hadley collecting plates and I reach out, placing a hand over her wrist. “That’s not your job today.” She looks at me with unsure eyes and I nod. “Go and enjoy your day off. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own children for the day.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“I’ve got tomorrow covered too.”
She looks toward the children and a look I haven’t seen in a while passes over her face. It’s the look of a woman who doesn’t want to leave her children. “Be good,” she instructs them. “No running away.”
“But what if I see a Golden Retriever?” Piper asks, her tone sincere and pure.
“Then you ask for permission,” Hadley says.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hadley reaches for her own plate, but I stop her. “I told you, it’s not your job.” She glances down at my hand covering hers, as if waiting for me to draw it back, but I don’t. Her skin is soft and feels warm under palm. There’s a pulse of electricity that travels between us, creating a connection. Letting go of her would sever whatever is beginning to form.
“Force of habit,” she says, a smile ghosting her lips, before she slides her hand out of my grasp. There’s a hint of pink on her cheeks, maybe the flush of embarrassment? Or the heat of the kitchen? Either way, it suits her.
And then she’s gone, temporarily throwing me back into a life of miserable loneliness.