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My wife’s a mom. I’m a dad. It still hasn’t sunk in. I follow our night nanny, dressed in a head-to-toe white uniform, to the kitchen, the smell of the garlicky pasta growing stronger, more tantalizing. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. A real home-cooked dinner.
Loosening my tie, I take a seat at the island and watch as she flits around the state-of-the-art kitchen like a ballerina, the baby in one arm, the hand of the other plating my meal.
“I also tidied up in here. The place was a pigsty! Dishes in the sink. Things not put away. The trash overflowing.”
Embarrassment crawls up my neck. With Rosita gone, things have gone by the wayside. Ava hasn’t been able to lift a finger and I’ve never had to in my entire life. My wealthy thespian parents always had help, and even while I was at the University of Southern California, I had a housekeeper come to my dorm room twice a week to clean it up.
“Thanks,” I mutter, too mortified to make excuses as she sets the plate piled high with the pasta on the counter along with a linen napkin and some cutlery. “Ava’s mother will be here at the end of the week to help with the household.”
“Yes, Ava told me. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“She’s a piece of work. But thank goodness we don’t have to contend with her often. She lives in Vegas…where Ava’s from.”
“I’m sure I’ll be able to handle her,” she says with confidence. “And besides, I’m only going to be here at night.”
“What are your hours?” I hope there’s a contract in place. I should have had one drawn up and reviewed.
“A twelve-hour shift. From sevenp.m. to sevena.m. But I’ll be glad to come earlier and/or stay later, if you need me. Your well-being is as important to me as your child’s.” She looks down at the baby. “Right, my sweet Isa? Nurse Marley has to take care of Mommy and Daddy too.”
The baby coos.
“You seem to have a magical touch with her.”
“She’s a total sweetheart. I believe there’s no such thing as a bad baby.”
“But all she does is poop and cry…”
“Mr. Sinclair, that’s what all newborns do. Though she might be picking up on both your tension and your wife’s.”
“Yeah, it’s been rough sailing so far.”
“Well, I’m here to give you a smooth ride. But I must warn you, it takes patience and persistence.”
“Patience isn’t my strong suit, but I’m great with persistence.” That’s why I’m such a good dealmaker… probablythe best in this town. I never let the word “no” get in my way or stop me.
“Well, you’ll need to work on patience.” She smiles. “You know what they say, patience has its virtues.”
Maman always said that to me in French. “I’ll try,” I say coyly.
“Good. I already have a lot of confidence in you, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Please…call me Ned, Nurse Manners.”
“And you can call me Marley.”
“Marley.” Her name sounds soft and breathy on my lips. Nothing like harsh-sounding Ava.
She glances down at the pasta and then juts her strong chin at me. “Ned, do eat before the meal gets cold.”
Her voice is commanding, and I like that about her. It shows she likes to be in control.
I twirl a generous amount around the tines of my fork, put the heap to my mouth, and swallow. “Wow. How did you learn to cook like this?”
Her expression grows somber. “I had to learn a lot of things growing up. There’s nothing like fending for yourself.”
I wouldn’t know. My overindulgent parents catered to my every whim. Whatever Little Lord Ned wants, Little Lord Ned gets—or gets away with it. My beautiful, in-denial mother looked the other way while my father cleaned up my messes or paid someone to do it. From schoolyard squabbles to DUIs, and that’s just for starters. They were enablers. And I freely, without guilt, took advantage.
Not in the mood to pursue her childhood or mine, I take another mouthful of the tasty pasta. “Aren’t you going to have some?”
