Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

Aelin threw the pile of old magazines into the recycling bin, then swept her hair up into a high ponytail. Two days of dejunking was exactly what her cold dead heart needed after mediation that weekend, and since she'd woken up feeling like a seventy-year-old woman after her trampoline shenanigans, puttering around at home was the correct life choice.

She couldn't get the idea of nannying Amaya for the summer out of her head.

Except for the fact that she'd have to see Ryan every morning and night, the whole thing was perfect. She'd chew off her own arm to spend the summer with Bailey, so forcing her lady parts into compliance seemed like a small price to pay.

But Ryan hadn't immediately jumped on the suggestion yesterday. He didn't have her number, and she didn't have his, and they hadn't crossed paths at drop-off that morning.

When she finished cleaning the main floor toilet, a thought hit her like a brick.

The choir concert. It was at six that evening, and Ryan would definitely be there.

But what was she going to say to him? If he hadn't already asked, was there a reason? Every parenting moment she'd had over the past week replayed in her head, and she cringed. The first time he'd met her, she'd just left her daughter at the school unattended. Not a great first impression.

But she had let the girls make slime and made grilled cheese. She'd shown she could be responsible, hadn't she?

Ugh. She pulled open the junk drawer and started throwing everything into a box. When it was empty, she grabbed the nozzle to the vacuum cleaner and sucked out the dust and old pieces of plastic and pencil lead. She was a good mom. She wasn't perfect, but she went above and beyond to make things fun for Bailey. Clark hated that about her. He would've been thrilled if Bailey loved him and only him. His strategies had worked when she was smaller, but now she was smart enough to see through the smoke and mirrors. She hoped.

Aelin dug through the items in the box and sorted out everything that was worth keeping. She put them back in the drawer knowing full-well it was going to be chaos again in a week or two, then emptied the remnants from the box into the trash. She washed her hands and put away the vacuum, then grabbed a water bottle and went downstairs to the workout room in the basement. They had a walkout, so it didn't feel dark and sad down there. That had been important to her when she'd bought the house.

She put on her runners and stepped onto the treadmill. Once her water bottle and earbuds were in place, she started the fourth episode of Better Call Saul and pressed the start button. The belt started moving. She walked for a bit, then adjusted the speed until she found her rhythm.

As she ran, Aelin's mind began to blur. The world outside of her workout room faded, and her focus narrowed to the hum in her legs and Saul scamming some sociopath in an alley.

After twenty minutes, she slowed the treadmill to a walk, then stepped off and moved to the free weights. She lifted, stretched, and did a core workout on her yoga mat, then put her shoes back in place next to the treadmill and headed back upstairs for a shower.

Her mind slowly drifted back to reality as she stepped into her ensuite and turned on the shower. She peeled off her sweaty clothes and draped them over the laundry basket. The washroom filled with steam as she twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with a clip, then she stepped under the hot stream. She closed her eyes and let the water cascade over her shoulders.

Okay. She needed a plan. She'd set up interviews for Thursday, but she could easily cancel them if Ryan was, in fact, open to the idea of her watching Amaya for the summer. But how much would he be willing to pay? The place Ryan had planned to use wasn't traditional. It was a small program that seemed to be a blend between an arts and crafts summer camp and paid field trips. The price had been five hundred and fifty a week.

She assumed that was lower because there were twelve spots available, which meant the woman running it was making a fantastic weekly rate. But if Ryan only wanted to pay five hundred and fifty . . . there was no way she could survive making that little. She had credit card debt she was trying to pay off thanks to Clark deciding it would be best to buy their flights to Europe in 2023 on her card since it had a better percentage back. Three weeks before the trip, she found out he was sleeping with his personal assistant. Which betrayal was just two years after he'd cheated on her the first time. She'd believed him when he pleaded for her to forgive him. She wouldn't ever make that mistake again.

She had lawyer fees, the mortgage—it all added up to an insurmountable burden without full-time work.

All in all, it wasn't a compelling sell. Hey, do you want to pay twice as much as you were planning on for childcare this summer so I can spend time with my daughter and keep my house?

Aelin grabbed a bottle of body wash and poured a dollop into her palm. She lathered it over her skin, inhaling the scent of eucalyptus and mint as she worked through a potential approach. She would be with the girls full-time. It was one adult to two kids, so the level of care and attention would be astronomically higher. She could show him the list Bailey had made for all the things she wanted to do over the summer and throw in . . .? She scrambled. Some overnights? Time for him to go and be with his wife while she was recovering?

She rinsed off and turned off the water, then stepped out and wrapped herself in a towel. As she dried off, her mind flitted through Ryan's potential responses. Would he tell her he'd already found something else? Or that he couldn't commit to a higher rate? Or— or. There was a chance he could say yes. Wasn't there?

Her phone dinged, and she picked it up from the washroom counter.

Megan:

Any thoughts on that double date?

Aelin exhaled. She'd looked at Megan's original text, but hadn't thought twice about it.

The 27th, right?

The 27th or 28th. Whichever is best.

I think the 27th is best for me.

So . . . is that a yes ?

Aelin chewed her lip. Was it a yes? It was just dinner. Megan had a guy, Colin, she knew through a mutual friend who she swore would be a perfect fit for her.

I don't want him to think this is more than it is

I promise. He knows it's just dinner.

Aelin's heart pounded so fast, she thought she was going to pass out. She was still married. It didn't mean anything to Clark. Hell, it hadn't meant anything to them even when he swore he wanted to make things work. But it meant something to her. He could be a cheater, but she would never be. As if reading her mind, Megan sent another text.

This marriage is over, Aelin

You would've been done with this by now if Clark didn't keep trying to stab you in the back to get custody of Bailey. This is on him, not you

You deserve to have some fun and to feel like a woman again

I'm Clark's sister, so if anyone should be biased in this matter, it's me. And I'm on your side, babe. You deserve so much better.

Tears pricked her eyes.

That's a hell of a speech

Did it work?

Tell Colin it's JUST DINNER

Megan sent a GIF of a cat doing a happy dance, and Aelin laughed as she threw the phone on the bed and walked into her closet, scanning the rows of hanging clothes. She pulled out a stretchy pale blue shirt and a pair of dark jeans, then slipped them on. The fabric was soft against her skin, and the blouse's colour somehow made her eyes look deeper brown.

She put a pin in the dinner she'd just agreed to since it was making her slightly nauseous and returned to her more pressing conundrum. How could she convince Ryan that she was the best fit for summer childcare? Aelin pondered this as she towel-dried her hair and brushed it until it fell in sleek waves over her shoulders, suddenly wishing she had time to blow dry and curl it. It took her two minutes to apply a touch of makeup—mascara, a hint of blush, and a swipe of lip gloss—then grabbed her phone and swept out of the bedroom.

Aelin walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out the container of leftover pasta from last night. She dumped it onto a plate, and stuck it in the microwave. She knew what would be most important to her as a parent, so maybe she only needed to make it clear what she could offer. When the microwave dinged, she retrieved her plate, grabbed a fork, and leaned over the counter. The noodles were still a bit cold in the centre, but she didn't care. She needed fuel, not a Michelin-star experience.

When she was finished, she rinsed her plate, then put it in the dishwasher and strode to her desk. She didn't have his email or phone number, so she'd have to do this old-school. Aelin thought of the old babysitter flyers she'd made in middle school and snorted. This would have to be better than that.

_____

Aelin arrived at the school and took the bouquets of flowers she'd picked up on the way past the main office and into the main hallway. She was only going to get one, but then wondered if Ryan had thought to get something for Amaya and opted for two. It couldn't hurt to do something nice even if he didn't consider her summer proposition.

Reminders of school rules and kids' artwork hung from the brick walls. She passed the "Artist of the Month" display and smiled to herself. Bailey had been over the moon when she was chosen back in April.

She joined the stream of parents and children making their way to the auditorium and found a seat in the fourth row of the raised seats, close to the aisle. The kids were still in rehearsal, and she tried not to look too desperate as she scanned the rows of other parents.

Aelin spotted Ryan immediately. His hair was tied up in his usual messy bun, and he was dressed similarly to the first time she'd seen him. Collared shirt. Nice slacks. She thought about standing up and walking to him then, but paused when a smile split his face.

The sight of it made something squeeze inside her. Had she seen him smile like that before? He was always so serious. She dropped her eyes to her phone, then glanced back to figure out who he was talking to. There were two men on either side of him, both athletic looking, one with a worn ball cap turned around backward and the other in a T-shirt and jeans. Did Ryan only hang out with other men who looked like they could be in a firemen's calendar?

Married, married, married , she reminded herself.

His eyes flicked up and caught hers. Aelin turned her head to stare at the empty stage. Shit. He'd absolutely just caught her looking at him. If she would've waved or something it would've looked more accidental and not like she was trying to figure out why his eyes always looked a little sad.

The last thing she wanted to seem was desperate, even if it was the truth.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down to see Clark's name on the screen. Her stomach tightened.

Clark:

I was thinking I'd take Bailey to Edmonton next month

Aelin's stomach dropped. Clark only went to Edmonton for work, and that last word required air quotes.

Won't you be in meetings?

Taking Bailey somewhere fun on his weekend was not the norm. Clark taking her anywhere that required effort or advanced planning sent off all the alarm bells.

Clark:

Going to take her to the mall

I was thinking I'd take Bailey to Edmonton next month. She tried to parse out the meaning because with Clark, she could never take anything at face value. He didn't say "a work thing" which meant he was either trying to make her think it was personal or it actually was personal.

Clark only went out of his way for two things. Money or sex. She was guessing it was the latter.

If you're meeting someone, I don't think that's the best situation for our ten-year-old daughter. And you'd be violating our separation agreement

The three dots appeared, then retreated. The doors to the stage opened and a couple of teachers filed in, leading the kids to their row on the risers.

Clark:

Classic. I try to do something nice and it's still not good enough for you

Aelin bit down hard and flinched when she caught the inside of her cheek. She flipped her phone over and set it in her lap. It was his weekend. He had Bailey from Friday after school until Sunday night, and taking her to Edmonton didn't break any of their mediation rules. There was nothing she could do about this.

Aelin tried to draw a full breath as she found Bailey in the second row. The kids were dressed in white shirts and black pants or skirts, each sporting a colourful sash or tie. Bailey had been insistent that she needed red, and she'd gone to Walmart late the night before to pick up a scarf.

The kids fidgeted, whispering to each other and adjusting their outfits. One boy with a cowlick was trying to smooth down his hair, while a girl next to him giggled and pointed at her little sister in the crowd.

There were two people between Bailey and Amaya, but they leaned forward, talking to each other anyway. Aelin couldn't help but grin at that. All she wanted in the world was for people to love Bailey as much as she did.

A few minutes later, the music started, a blend of classic choir pieces and a few contemporary songs. The children's voices filled the room. Not entirely on key or rhythm, but all she could see was the joy on their faces as their mouths rounded into tall O's.

Between songs, she glanced over at Ryan. His attention was fixed on Amaya, a contented smile still hanging on his lips. He looked nice sitting like that. Like a nice man. A nice dad. Someone who wouldn't take his daughter to a hotel so he could hook up with some woman he met on Hinge.

Aelin sighed and settled in for the final number. She perked up when she saw Amaya step down from her riser and walk across the stage to the microphone. She waited for her choir teacher to adjust it, then stood straight, her hands at her sides.

The music swelled, and she sang the opening stanzas, her voice clear and strong. When she finished her part, she retreated back to stand with the rest of the choir, grinning from ear to ear at her dad in the crowd.

Aelin didn't know whether she wanted to rage text Clark or start crying. Would Bailey ever have an experience like that? If Clark had deigned to show up for this, he sure as hell wouldn't have been looking at his daughter like that. Unless he knew someone was watching.

When the applause died down, and the lights went up, Aelin wound her way through the crowd and into the hall. She spotted Bailey and Amaya lined up a few feet ahead, hugging their friends and glowing with post-performance adrenaline.

She stepped up to them, flowers in hand, realizing she hadn't paid attention to whether Ryan had flowers already.

Bailey's eyes lit up. She took one of the bouquets and handed it to Amaya, somehow understanding exactly why she'd brought them.

"You girls sounded amazing up there," she said. Bailey beamed at her. "And Amaya, your solo? Perfect."

Amaya's cheeks turned pink, and she clutched the bouquet to her chest. "Thanks." The girls turned to chat and take pictures with other friends. Aelin glanced around at the other parents. It was always moments like this where she felt the most alone.

When Bailey was little, she'd met other moms at park groups and found a couple friends in the neighbourhood. Once she and Clark split, all those poker night and wine-tasting invitations dried up. She spent more time with her married sister-in-law than she did her friends of the past six years. Ironic.

"Thanks for the flowers." Ryan's voice sounded next to her, and she turned, her pulse kicking into second gear.

"Oh. No problem. I was stopping anyway, and I knew Bailey would love that I got Amaya some too." Aelin straightened and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Ryan's friends were still back in the auditorium. She spotted the baseball cap.

"Uncles?" Aelin nodded to them.

Ryan shook his head. "Friends from my hockey team."

Aelin's eyes widened. "They came to your daughter's grade four concert?"

He shrugged. "We're a family. "

A large group passed through the middle of the hallway, and Ryan moved in closer to avoid getting caught in the tide. His hand pressed against the wall next to her, and suddenly all she could feel was the heat of his body, the scent of that sea breeze body wash.

He moved back when the coast was clear, and Aelin prayed her face wasn't beet red. Because her thighs were. Her body didn't care, apparently, that this man had a very nice, very practical wedding band on his left hand.

She straightened her shirt. "Hey, so I wondered if we could talk about that thing." That thing? The sentence she'd just blurted was nowhere close to the verbiage she'd rehearsed in the shower earlier.

His brow pinched.

"About summer childcare. What Amaya said at the trampoline place."

Ryan exhaled. "Right. Sorry about that. She has no filter between her head and her mouth."

Aelin stilled, her mind scrambling. So, he hadn't considered it. Or wasn't considering it. Or thought it was a mistake Amaya had said it in the first place? He'd seemed a little embarrassed, but she'd thought that was only because his daughter had practically made the suggestion over a loud speaker in a public space.

"Oh, right. No, I understand." She turned her head, searching for Bailey, but before she could make her escape, Ryan stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

Her arm lit up like she'd been sitting with her cord dangling and he'd suddenly plugged her into an outlet.

"Were you interested?"

Aelin turned back and nearly sighed as his hand dropped from her skin. Something about his sad grey eyes broke down the wall of professionalism she'd intended to keep up during this conversation. He'd already been witness to her worst moment that didn't involve Clark Moses over the past ten years. So. She was going to cut the bullshit .

"Yes, I was interested. I've been searching for jobs that would allow me to stay home with Bailey this summer and haven't found anything. I was so sure I'd be able to find something that worked that I didn't hedge my bets. Now every available camp or au paire or nanny is going to cost me an internal organ, and since my ex-husband is currently committing tax fraud so he doesn't have to pay more child support, I'm debating between a kidney or a lung. So yes. I was definitely interested."

Aelin glanced at the people still milling through the hall, hoping they hadn't heard a syllable of that depressing monologue.

"Oh." Ryan crossed his arms in front of him. "What would you charge?"

Aelin opened her mouth, then closed it. Then tried again. "Eight hundred a week." She'd done the mental math on the way over. If she got a full-time job and had to put Bailey in a summer camp, that was about what it would even out to. She didn't want to ream him, and that amount was completely manageable.

She continued, "I would be giving undivided attention to the girls. We'll do at least three field trips a week and on the two days we're home, we'll do baking and crafts and projects in the backyard. I grew up an athlete, so physical activity is important to me. I'll make sure they eat healthy, but not so healthy that they hate me. I can offer one overnight a week so you can have time off and be with your wife."

Her throat felt like it was going to swell closed, and Bailey's choir director was going to have to trach her with a ball-point pen. When Ryan didn't respond immediately, she somehow defied biology and kept talking. "I can do a background check if you want. I'll work as an independent contractor, so you don't have to worry about taxes, and?—"

"You don't need to do a background check." Ryan watched her, his eyes steady .

Why could she never figure out what was going on in his head? "Okay."

He dropped his arms, putting his hands in his pockets. "Okay."

"So . . . did you want to think about it and?—"

"I don't need to think about it. That sounds great."

The voices in the hallway faded into an amorphous buzz. She nodded, then clenched her fists to try and get feeling back into her fingers. "So it's a yes?"

He nodded. "Send me a contract."

"Right. Yes. I'll ask Chat GPT to make me one tonight."

The corner of Ryan's mouth lifted. "Do you need my email address?"

"Mmhmm." She pulled her phone from her purse and opened a new contact, quickly realizing the only thing she knew about him was his first name. "Here." She handed it to him. Let him fill out whatever information he felt comfortable giving her.

She waited for him to finish tapping his fingers on her phone screen, pretending to be interested in anything other than the fact that his hand was wrapped around her cell. When he handed it back, she scanned the contact page. Ryan Vargo. He left his phone, email, and address along with a note, "Amaya's dad." She had a feeling she'd never need to search for his daughter's name to remember where to find him.

"I'll be in touch."

Ryan nodded once, then walked back toward his friends. Aelin pressed her palms against the cool, painted cinder block wall. She got a job. She got a job that wasn't a night shift and didn't require her to leave Bailey.

She pulled out her phone and hesitated a second too long on Ryan's contact before pulling up her texts and typing a message out to her lawyer.