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I close my eyes with a smile, letting visions of a white picket fence, a darling house, and a shady oak tree fill my thoughts, and then I frown when it morphs into a large gray house with white shutters and a planter beside the front door.
I must have drifted off because a door shutting has my eyes flying open and my body wrenching up in a panic. The chenille blanket falls halfway off of me, pooling on the floor, and I press one hand to my chest.
It takes me a moment to pinpoint where I am, my gaze flying around the unfamiliar room and then landing on the figure taking up a large amount of space in the area between the living room and kitchen.
“Oh, you’re home,” I say, struggling to untangle my legs from the blanket that has somehow become wrapped around them.
I finally stand and adjust my clothes, bringing my gaze back to his. His face is almost expressionless, not happy or sad or even angry to see me. It’s as if me being here means nothing to him.
“Was your room to your liking?”
To my liking? How formal. Why is he acting like we’ve never met before?
“Yeah, it’s nice. Large. Lots of … room.”
What the French toast? I almost roll my eyes but catch myself at the last minute.
“Good. Are you ready to film tomorrow?”
“As ready as I can be. Do you know what we are supposed to be doing?”
“I think it’s a short day. They just want us to talk about our living arrangement and for me to show you around like it’s your first time being here. They will probably ask intrusive questions, like where we plan to sleep.”
I nod, chewing on my bottom lip as I rock up onto the balls of my feet.
“Have you had dinner?”
“No. Have you?”
“No. We could order something?” He shoves his hands in his pockets as he waits for my reply.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
We decide on pizza, and Simon runs upstairs while I call and order. It’s strange to me how quickly I’ve fallen into this role here. Calling for food, spending another dinner with Simon. Almost as if we were a real couple.
I shake my head to rid myself of that notion. I’m sure he had dinner with Vicky all the time, and they weren’t a couple.
You are just the nanny.
No use in going and getting any ideas.
Six weeks. I can do this.
