“Me too, kid.” Rosalie kisses the top of Callie’s head. “I think you should play your dad a song on your new toy.”
“I’ll play him a song,” Wyatt offers, and he looks so hopeful that I put on my delighted-and-supportive face and listen to his Bruno Mars song like it’s the first time I’ve heard it.
He has more. We listen to three more songs before Mom ducks her head in the room. “Dinner’s ready.” She sees Callie on Rosalie’s lap and the two of us sitting close, and I swear her face softens for a second before she goes back to looking exasperated with the lot of us.
Chapter 29 – Dinner Interrogation
Rosalie
If I thought it was awkward eating dinner with people who ignore me unless the kids need something, I should have waited for this dinner.
Mrs. Campbell has all sorts of questions for me. Some I swear I’ve told her before, but this time she’s paying attention. She wants to know where I went to school, how many siblings I have, and what I like to do for fun. Mr. Campbell is listening and nodding at my answers like this is the most stimulating dinner conversation he’s ever heard. I know that’s not true, because he regularly eats with politicians and former sports pros. I’m pretty sure both of those categories are filled with people who are better at talking about themselves than me.
When I mention that I like to read, she wants titles. Titles! Iam not about to name dropSecond Sons and Hot Cross BunsorLassoing a Lady. The last book I read was calledThe Curvy Waitress Gets the Quarterback. I know these authors want us to know exactly what we’re getting into, but maybe they could tone it down a little. I’m sweating, and this stupid sundress suddenly feels too short, even though my legs are hidden under the table.
“I like romances and classics likeHeidi,” I tell Mrs. Campbell. I read it when I was ten, but who’s counting?
“Oh, I loved that book,” she says. “I read it when I was ten.”
I’m dying.
Liam’s sitting next to her, across from me. His gaze keeps moving from his mom to me and back again, and he looks slightly worried every time Mrs. Campbell asks me something before physically relaxing after I answer.
Jack just looks pleased. If I didn’t think I’d get caught, I’d reach over and pinch him.
I didn’t want this. I was dealing with my hurt feelings by accepting that Liam and I were better off as friends, and tonight was the evidence of that. It was time to return to my role as a regular nanny without longing for something else. No more dropping hints that get me nowhere.
Maybe I’m the one with a status quo problem, because I don’t like this free-falling feeling in my stomach. It feels too much like hope and fear cooked into an anxiety soup.
I don’t like knowing that not only does Liam see me differently, but now, so does his family.
I’m mad at him for saying something to them, and I’m also mad at him for not making this change the first time I met his parents, when I was holding a diaper bag and juggling a kid on my hip. That would have been a good time to set a precedent.
Of course, back then, Liam wasn’t talking to his parents much at all. He acted grumpy and distant at family events. Eventually, he warmed back up to them, but I didn’t. Except for talking to Jack, I stayed in the background where I belonged.
That’s why this feels so wrong. I should be invisible, and therefore able to relax and just observe. I want to know what Liam said to them tonight to change that. But I also don’t. Iwasn’t a part of the discussion. I was sitting with the kids.
During a lull in the questioning, my phone rings and I dive down for my bag under my chair and fish out my cell phone to silence it. Trey’s calling me. Of course it’s him. He hasn’t given up, despite my lack of interest.
“Who’s Mr. Emoji?” Jack asks, having peeked at my screen. If a conversation had been going on around us, nobody but me would have heard him, but even the kids perk up at his question.
“Mr. Emoji?” Callie asks. “I want to talk to him.”
“I already declined the call, Callie-Bear. Eat your broccoli.” She’s 100 percent not going to eat her broccoli, even though it’s deliciously seasoned. I know Mrs. Campbell didn’t make any of this, but she likes to give the impression that she’s an amazing cook. There are worse crimes. Like drawing unwanted attention to your nanny/friend without giving her a heads-up.
I lock eyes with Liam across the table. He gives me a small amused smile. Smiles from him are banned, I’ve decided.
“I’m sorry. I should have silenced my phone before dinner,” I tell Mrs. Campbell.
“Not a problem,” but she says it like it’s a problem. Somewhere, an etiquette book has a rule about not moving the dinner conversation in a new and embarrassing direction.
“Who’s Mr. Emoji?” Wyatt whispers to Jack. “Is he a YouTuber? Do YouTubers have phone numbers you can call?”
“I’m not that connected, Wyatt. We’ll have to ask Rosalie about it later. Maybe she won a fan contest and they hit it off.”
Wyatt’s eyes go big. He totally thinks this is plausible. And strangely, that makes me relax a little.
This isn’t a job interview. I already have the best job in the world. And as mad as I am at Liam right now, I know I’ll still have my job after tonight, regardless of how this dinner goes. He’s never given me a reason to doubt that.