Twenty-Two: Harlow

TWENTY-TWO

HARLOW

T he twins hit a new milestone this week: crawling.

With a sense of purpose.

William loved leading the way to trouble, and Charlotte was thrilled to join him on ‘Adventure: Open Cabinets and Touch Everything and Adventure: Follow Nanny Around the Kitchen.’

Their infectious giggles made my heart swell, and I couldn’t deny liking them. Okay, I loved them, even though they were Satan’s spawn.

“Good morning, William and Charlotte.” Mr. Dawson stooped low and pressed kisses against their cheeks. “Hope you both have a good day today.”

Babbling and smiling, they looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

I forgave them for not knowing any better.

He stood and looked at me. “ Miss Hawthorne .”

“ Mr. Dawson .”

I waited for him to turn around and complete the next step in our ‘boundaries’ routine. We spoke only when necessary, and even then, we kept it to two sentences or less.

Hurry up and leave so I can be alone with the children.

“Something has recently come to my attention via your coworkers,” he said. “Is now a good time to address it?”

“You’re an employer who believes he owns all my time , Mr. Dawson, you tell me.” My new boundaries didn’t allow for pleasant conversation, only bare cordialness.

“You need to wear a shirt under your aprons, please,” he said, glancing at today’s pink ‘Sweet Nanny’ one. “No one else in this house is allowed to walk around with their bras or undergarments showing.”

“I prefer not to wear a shirt until after lunch, because it gets messy.”

“I wasn’t making a request, Miss Hawthorne.”

“Then why did it sound like one?”

“Allow me to state it again, then.” He clenched his jaw. “As of today , you will wear a shirt under your aprons, because your lack of modesty is bothering your coworkers.”

“Which ones?” I asked. “All I’ve heard are compliments.”

He placed his hands on the counters behind me, caging me against his chest.

“It’s not appropriate for my son to see your extensive bra collection or get glimpses of your hardened nipples.”

“I doubt he knows what he’s looking at.”

“He also doesn’t appreciate you prancing around his house in tight-ass-shorts without panties.”

“These tight-ass-shorts are my panties.”

“I’m paying you enough to invest in pants.”

“Then it sounds like I need a raise.”

He let out a growl, and I kept my face stoic even though it turned me on.

“Look,” he said. “I’ve been letting you get away with certain antics because you’re my longest lasting nanny—” He pressed his forehead against mine, and I resisted the urge to inhale his scent. “—but you need to revisit my guidelines on proper attire, or we’re going to have a huge problem.”

“Whenever I get a break from your children, I will do that.” I narrowed my eyes. “Oh, wait. I haven’t had an off day since my last one. Do you remember it, by chance?”

He looked like he was about to explode.

Prying his fingers from the counter, he looked me up and down before walking away.

I pressed a hand against my chest, attempting to calm my racing heart.

I forgive you for still liking him. You’ll get over him soon enough, though.

Before I could pull out a game for the twins, Miss Banks, the kitchen manager, waltzed toward the granite island with her usual brown bags.

“I’m here with today’s breakfast!” She announced.

“I have organic, stone pound grits and oats for the sweet babies,” she said, setting out the containers, “with complementing celery and apple juice puree.”

“They haven’t been drinking the puree lately,” I said. “They don’t like it.”

“For his beautiful niece,” she continued without skipping a beat, “I have coconut flour pancakes with mango syrup and a flavorful protein shake.”

“I can guarantee she won’t eat that,” I said. “She doesn’t have any allergies, so is there a reason her food is on the Paleo and keto spectrums?”

“What do you know about spectrums?”

“A lot.”

“Well—” She crossed her arms. “I’ve been managing the pantries and meal deliveries at Mr. Dawson’s properties for years. I doubt your definition of ‘a lot’ amounts to much.”

“I’m not trying to offend you,” I said. “I’m simply letting you know what the kids aren’t enjoying. I won’t force them to eat what they don’t like, and I can give you a list of foods that might be better for them.”

“Stay in your lane, Nanny .” She slammed down the utensils. “The menus for Mr. Dawson’s children are prepared weeks in advance, with the help of myself, a world-renowned nutritionist, and a chef who has literally cooked for royalty. Have you ever cooked for royalty?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then I don’t think any of the culinary team members should care what you think.” She shrugged. “Serve everything per my instructions, and I’ll return with the twins’ lunch a little after one o’clock.”

The moment she left, I offered a spoonful of oats to William.

He spat it up in disgust.

Then he grimaced and held his stomach.

“No, wait.” I held up my hands as he grunted, knowing what was coming. “Can you hold your poo in a little while longer? Maybe two minutes? I forgot to put you in a thicker?—”

A fresh load of green slosh sludged through his diaper onto the floor.

“ Dahhhh !” He laughed. “ Dahhh !”

He looked like he was waiting for applause, like I’d just witnessed him shit out a Picasso.

Holding my breath, I carried him to the sink.

Charlotte crawled over to us, and I noticed her diaper was soiled green, too.

“Okay, that’s it.” I pulled out my phone. “We’re getting disposable diapers today .”