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There’s a moment of connection, but I break it quickly, scowling at myself.
She’s the nanny. She was my best friend.
We’ve barely exchanged two words since she started working for me.
It’s been a day, and Alex is happy. When I got home this evening, she couldn’t wait to tell me about how they went shopping together, how she’s thinking about entering the talent show, and how they made a potato bake for the potluck.
“You going to stand in the living room staring a hole through the wall all night?” Jesse asks. Just fucking great. The last thing I need is my brother on my ass. He wants “what’s best for me” and it’s annoying. He glances over at June, who’s moving into the kitchen to help Ganny, her hips swaying. “How are things with the nanny?”
“Don’t you mean Jayjay?”
He chuckles. “I knew you were sore about that. Man, you like her.” Jesse points a finger at me around the Coke can in his grasp.
Alex shrieks and runs through the house, chased by Ganny’s Chihuahua, Fireball. The pair take turns chasing each other, first her then him. Alex waves at me before running off, her cheeks pink with excitement.
It’s good to see my daughter this happy.
“You must really like her if you brought her with you to the potluck,” Jesse says.
“Ganny invited her.”
“That your story and you’re sticking with it?”
I sit down on the sofa and rest my hand on the back of it, tapping irritably. “How’s Marci?”
“Ha.” Jesse takes a sip of coke. “Fuck you.”
“I hear she’s having some trouble at the diner.”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
I’ve got Jesse cornered here. He’s got this weird hate-crush thing going on with Marci, and he’ll never admit it. He’s more stubborn than I am, and Marci’s oblivious. She thinks he despises her because Jesse arrested her low-life brother.
I’m about to abandon the living room when the front door opens and Dad comes in, closely followed by Savage—my best friend has a standing invite to the potluck and takes advantage of it whenever he can.
I rise and greet my father, a quick hug and pat on the back. He smells like alcohol, and my jaw clenches.
Not again.
I’m all for having a beer after a long day of work, but Dad has a problem.
Savage grins at me and lifts a dish. “Cornbread.”
“Dibs!” Jesse says.
Savage’s cornbread is almost as legendary as Ganny’s potlucks. He goes into the kitchen and I catch a glimpse of Hannah, all wide blue eyes, staring up at him like a trapped mouse.
Savage has that effect on women, but he wouldn’t dare go near my sister.
Dad sits down, groaning and shifting his neck this way and that. “Ain’t easy getting old, I’ll tell you that.”
“You’re not old,” Jesse says. “You’re aged. Like a barrel of whisky.”
“Speaking of,” Dad replies, “how about one of you boys grab me a glass of something cold?”
I grimace at my brother.
He strokes a hand over his forehead and face, annoyed at himself. “Dad,” he says, “nobody’s drinking tonight. How about a Coke?”
