More Than I Could (45)

“I am doing better. Why don’t you believe me?”

Suddenly, my exhaustion from the day settles back into my bones.

Arguing with my daughter isn’t going to help. If it would, one of the last sixteen hundred arguments about this would’ve cured the problem. And if that were the case, I would also know what the problem is—why she’s testing every nerve I have left.

Megan smiles softly. I imagine she’s grateful she doesn’t have to deal with this longer than a month. I can’t blame her. It’s a lot.

But, it’s also everything.

I exhale and turn back to Kennedy. Her eyes plead with me, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. She looks like the little girl she once was, and I remind myself she’s still her. She’s just bigger, and her life is more complicated.

Glancing at Megan, my insides twist.

Maybe my life is a bit more complicated too.

“Let’s eat,” I say, putting an arm around Kennedy’s shoulders. “Then we’ll talk about it.”

“Really?”

I kiss the top of her head. “Really.”

Kennedy wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me.

“Whoa, wait. I’m filthy,” I say, pushing her back. “I need to grab a shower.”

She hugs me even tighter.

Megan smiles and turns back to the oven.

The feeling of contentment catches me off guard. And it scares the shit out of me.

This is something I could get used to.

Get over it, Marshall. She’ll be gone before you get used to anything.

And that’s the way it should be.





Chapter Seventeen





Megan




“Look at you,” Gavin says, dropping into the seat across from me. “You’re one week in, and you’re alive.”

“It was touch and go there for a while, but I seem to be surviving.”

The lunch rush at The Wet Whistle isn’t much of a rush at all. Customers wander in as if they have nowhere to be and casually order their sandwiches while chatting up Tabitha. It’s the most low-key establishment I’ve ever seen—even more so than a lunch I had in Spain, where the patrons could bring their own lunch to the restaurant and enjoy the atmosphere.

Gavin runs his hands down his jeans and tosses me a killer smile. “How are things going with my brother?”

I look down at my phone to keep him from reading my features.

Whatever I expected this job to entail, this wasn’t it. Five days in, we’re coming together in a routine that feels too natural.

I just happen to come downstairs while Chase is getting ready for work. He packs his lunch and gathers his things while I sip a cup of coffee. Some mornings he’s almost chatty; others, he hardly says a word. But even those mornings, I’m pretty confident he likes me sitting at the table while he preps his day. He steals glances when he thinks I’m not looking. And every morning, without fail, he thanks me for being there. Then he flashes a smile, as small as it may be, that fuels my day.

It feels good to be appreciated. It feels even better to be wanted—both as the nanny and a woman. Because even though we’ve agreed that’s not in the cards, it doesn’t mean the urge has gone away. For either of us.

“Megs?”

“Oh, it’s going pretty good,” I say, tucking a strand of hair.

The knowing look on his face causes my cheeks to heat.

“Pretty good, huh?” he asks.

Before I must respond, Tabitha slides up to the table next to Gavin.

“Hey, cutie,” she says to him, snapping a piece of gum. “What can I get ya?”

“Don’t you look pretty today, Miss Tab,” he says.

“You’re such a flirt, Mr. Marshall.”

He grins. “It’s impossible not to flirt with someone as beautiful as you.”

She swats him with her order pad. “What do you want? Anything?”

“Nah, I’m just here to harass Megan.” He looks at me and winks. “Did you order already?”

I nod.

“Well, all right,” Tabitha says. “I’ll have your food out in a few, Megan.”

“Thanks,” I say.

Once we’re alone, Gavin leans forward and laces his fingers on the table.

“What?” I ask.

“What, what?”

“What’s that little smirk about?”

It grows deeper. “Oh, nothing.”

“Dammit, Gavin.”

He laughs. “You and Chase are two peas in a pod.”

Tabitha returns with my grilled cheese and fries. She places the plate and a fresh Sprite in front of me before jetting off to help a large table of hunters who came in.

My bracelets jingle against the tabletop as I reach for my drink.

“My job as Chase’s brother and your new best friend,” he says, “is to ensure you’re both … you know …” He searches for the right word. “I’m here to facilitate things.”

“Do I look like I need a facilitator?”

He slowly blinks. “Yes.”

I put my straw in the new glass and take a quick sip. Ignoring his implications.

“What have you been up to?” I ask, refocusing the conversation on Gavin.