Chapter 8

EIGHT

NOLAN

T aking care of Maddy. Establishing a routine. Meeting her needs. It makes me feel useful and appreciated. It's only been a week. Seven days and I'm already invested and attached.

It isn't as if I have a lack of meaningful connections in my life. If anything, there are too many people who care. A meddling father. A dedicated mother. A kindhearted stepfather. A never-ending supply of siblings. And yet, somehow, I've always felt a little lost amongst the chaos. It doesn't make sense that I feel more settled now that I'm spending my days in a mansion that is easily the same size of my father's and working for a woman who can effortlessly match his fame.

I already feel like I've become a valued member of Amber's team and with that, I've collected dozens of tidbits of information—like Mina's commitment to eating green vegetables at every meal and Brian's unwillingness to wear anything but a suit when he's working—which is always. I know where the fancy chocolate is hidden, and how to close and darken the wall of windows and doors that leads to the back yard. I've run a couple loads of laundry and added my favorite sparkling water to the grocery list. I don't see Amber very much, but when I do, she's easy to be around. I keep waiting for her to exhibit some behavior that I could label diva-like, but she doesn't.

"Sorry, I'm late," she says as she rushes into the living room at quarter past six on Friday night. She wipes the sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her shirt, giving me a glimpse of toned abs, before dropping to her knees next to us. "I lost track of time."

Maddy swivels her head at her mother's voice and gives her a drooly smile from my lap.

"It's fine." I keep telling her that she doesn't need to cut her rehearsal short because I have nothing to do when I leave for the day, and I don't mind hanging around, but she still insists on apologizing anyway.

"It isn't fine. My dancers are going to mutiny if we keep running over. And you're going to get sick of staying late eventually." She leans forward and drops a kiss on Maddy's forehead, her hair tickling my chin, and I resist the urge to bury my face in it. I refuse to be caught sniffing her like some sort of obsessed fan. "I don't want to start the tour with everyone already exhausted. It's important for morale that we keep to the schedule."

"Is morale low?" I ask, more than a little surprised. She's been so full of energy when I arrive in the mornings that I've been assuming rehearsals were going well.

"No. Morale is perfect. That's why we keep running over. With every dance we master, I get more invigorated. My energy skyrockets, and time passes so quickly. Performing is such a rush and I just want to keep pushing and pushing. In the past, one of the dance captains would call for us to end, but I think they're relieved to see that even though I have a daughter my commitment is the same." A furrow appears between her brows as she sits back on her heels. "Should I not feel that way?" Her eyes widen. "Do you think they're testing me? Do you think they were worried?"

That is a lot of questions. I'm not sure which one to answer so I counter with a question of my own. "Were you worried that it wouldn't be the same?"

She nods, the furrow deepening. "I am worried."

"About your commitment?"

"Not exactly. It's more…I worry whether I can properly manage both my career and Maddy." Her hand flies to her mouth like she wants to stuff the words back inside. Unfortunately, words don't work like that. And saying things out loud can make them feel real. "Should I be spending more time with her? Am I going to regret this tour? I mean…no…of course I won't. It's going to be fine. She's going to have an unconventional upbringing but that doesn't mean it'll be bad. I love her, and—" She bites her lip.

I consider telling her about my dad and what it's like to have a famous parent. It might reassure her, but what if it doesn't? And what if she sees me differently?

The problem is, I don't want to lie—it can be hard to be Russell Gage's son, and I'm sure there will be moments that Maddy wishes her life were more normal. There will be other times when she feels lucky. No one's life is perfect.

The other problem is, I don't talk about dad. Once people know, they do view me differently, and I've never been great at dealing with it.

"You love her. That's the most important thing, right? And the fact that you're asking those questions matters. You can't solve problems you don't acknowledge."

"Do you think I'm making a mistake?"

Shit. That's a heavy question. "I've only been here a week, but Maddy seems happy, and you seem happy."

"That's true." She smiles, almost shyly. "I guess I'm just worried that you're taking care of Maddy way more than I am."

"You hired me to care for her, so you can focus on the tour when you need to," I remind her. "It's okay to allow people you trust to help." The irony of my words is not lost on me, but thankfully she doesn't know me well enough to know that I don't practice what I preach.

"Ugh…I know." She tugs on a strand of her hair. "I didn't expect to feel so torn. I used to be so good at balancing everything."

"I've had dozens of conversations with mothers who felt the same."

"At your old job?"

"Yep. Not everyone struggles, but plenty do."

"I appreciate that. It isn't like I thought I was the only one, but I prefer problems with obvious solutions. And I hate questioning my decisions."

I can certainly relate to that. "How can I help? Do you need to adjust our schedule? Or make some other change?"

"No. I'm sorry for whining about this. I'm just…I'm worried that I'm going to fuck up somehow." She pinches her nose and groans. "I can't believe I just admitted that."

I want to wipe the dismay off her face. She's more fragile than I expected. And the fact that she's trusting me with her worries feels meaningful. "Do you need Maddy and I to come find you at the end of rehearsal? If we interrupt, it'll be a subtle reminder that it's time to stop, and then you won't have to worry that you're exhausting anyone."

It's a small thing, and it doesn't solve the larger problem, but maybe it'll help.

Her brows draw together. "You'd do that?"

"Sure. Why not?" It isn't as if walking through the house, and opening the door to the gym for the next week will be difficult. If she's stressed out, I'm happy to do whatever I can so she stays on schedule. Even though I do kind of like staying late.

Also, if I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind catching a glimpse of rehearsals.

She doesn't respond, and the silence stretches until I can't stop myself from filling it. "You can think about it and let me know tomorrow."

I shift so I can stand up and head out, but before I get to my feet, her hand shoots out and grabs my forearm. "It's taco night. You want to…uh…join us?"

I attempt to ignore the joy that bubbles in my chest. "For dinner?"

She releases me and nods. "Mina and I usually eat on the patio. There's plenty of food. Brian joins us when he's here, but he's had meetings all day and I don't think he's coming over tonight." She pauses. "I probably should have asked you already. I mean…you're always welcome to stay…but I've never said it explicitly." She gestures in the direction of the backyard. "The more the merrier."

And the bubble of joy deflates. She isn't asking me to stay because she wants to keep chatting. She's being kind, the same way she is to her other employees. It would probably be smart for me to leave. I'm already more invested than I should be. I want to keep doling out advice and trying to figure out what else I can do to help her.

Spending my spare time here is not going to help me remember that I'm the nanny, not her friend, and definitely not her boyfriend. Instead of declining like I should, I say, "I could eat."

"Yeah?" Her face lights up and my joy is back.

"Sure. I like tacos," I reply like an absolute dumbass.

"Great." We sit there grinning at each other until Maddy releases a yell like she wants to remind us she's still in the room and that it's dinner time.

We both jerk at the noise, and the surprisingly intimate moment is broken.

Amber rises to her feet, and I trail behind her toward the outdoor patio. Maddy and I don't really spend time in this part of the yard. It's kind of secluded, tucked against the house with direct access to the kitchen and a path that leads to the pool. It has a permanent roof, two massive grills, a long table that could easily fit a dozen people, an outdoor fridge, and a fireplace. It's fancy and kind of a lot, but it's comfortable and almost homey, too.

When we get there, Mina is already unloading a bag of food. She smirks when she looks up and sees me. "I've been wondering when you'd join us for dinner."

"Can't pass up tacos," I respond, trying to make it seem like staying for dinner is just a regular occurrence, not an indication of me choosing to spend more time here than necessary.

"Taco night is every Friday, so you passed it up last week," she adds casually.

"I didn't know there were tacos last week." It was my first night and it didn't occur to me that I might stay for dinner.

"Now you know." She pulls more containers out of the bag.

When she starts opening them, I walk around the table to help. Chicken. Steak. Sautéed vegetables. Tortillas. Rice. Salsa. Guacamole. Cheese sauce. Beans. Chips. It's enough food to feed us twice. Or even three times. Now I know why the fridge is always packed with leftovers. Having a personal chef is pretty sweet.

Once the containers are open, Mina and Amber start crafting their tacos while I spoon some beans into a bowl for Maddy. I set it on the table near her and start to prepare a plate for myself.

"Maddy likes beans?" Amber asks.

I freeze, afraid that I stepped over an invisible line, taking charge when I should have backed off. Amber just got through explaining to me how she worries that I'm spending more time with her daughter than her, and now I'm preparing to feed Maddy, instead of myself.

"She does," I respond hesitantly.

"She makes a huge mess though," Mina adds.

I'm not sure what I expect, but it isn't for Amber to smile, tussle Maddy's hair, and say, "Mess is part of the fun." She goes back to preparing her tacos, and I almost sigh in relief that I haven't overstepped.

Once we're seated, our plates piled with tacos, Mina says, "The label wants you to go to dinner with Eden Carmichael next week. They'll handle the details. You just have to show up and appear smitten. A couple of dates over the next few weeks will increase his exposure."

I tense. Fake publicity makes me uncomfortable. When I was younger, I never knew what was real in my father's life and what wasn't. I still don't. Even his most recent marriage might have been nothing but a fabrication to sell movie tickets.

"Absolutely not," Amber responds without looking up from the chip she's swirling through a mound of guacamole.

My tension releases at the realization that Amber isn't going to agree. I offer a spoonful of beans to Maddy as Mina snorts. "Brian told them you'd say that."

"I don't know why they asked. We've had this conversation before. I won't pretend to date someone for publicity. They know it. So does Brian. So do you . I don't care if he's the lead singer of an up-and-coming band and they want him to sell more albums." She swipes her next chip into the guacamole, and it cracks into three pieces. She frowns and swipes up the smallest piece.

Mina takes an unnecessarily large bite of taco and then chews slowly as if she's thinking. "It would quell the Teddy rumors."

"By starting other rumors. That is the last thing I need." She presses the other two pieces of chips together and pops them into her mouth.

Mina drops her taco and holds up her hands. "Don't shoot the messenger. You told Brian to inform you when the label suggested you consider something you'd already informed them you wouldn't do. This is me informing you." She wrinkles her nose. "I'm on your side. If Eden Carmichael wants to be famous, he should do the work, not try to piggyback off your success."

"Does that happen a lot?" I ask, unable to stop myself. She approaches fame so differently than I'm used to. My father wouldn't hesitate to fake a date. Or twenty.

"Not lately. I mean—I just had a baby with another man. A man the label would love for me to reconcile with. Since that isn't going to happen, they occasionally try to convince me to date other people. It would be a win-win for them. Publicity for him while putting a spotlight on my tour."

"I thought the tour was sold out?"

She rolls her eyes. "It is. But they're never satisfied."

"I'm surprised they let you tell them no."

"I'm sure they don't like it. And they'd rather make me do what they want, but I'm their golden ticket. They haven't been able to boss me around for years. They ask, I say no, and we move on." She picks up a taco and takes a delicate bite.

"Why do they keep asking?"

"Because if I won't date Teddy again, then they want me to find the next Teddy."

She says it like the last thing she wants is a boyfriend. Doesn't she get lonely? I almost ask her, but her dating life isn't any of my business.