I quickly looked away, suddenly very interested in the contents of the refrigerator as I grabbed a lemon and set it on the cutting board. I sliced a few wedges, hooked one over the rim of the glass the fridge had just filled with its automatic sensor, and slid it across the counter toward her.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
And since the water looked refreshing and I needed something more to do while I tried to straighten out my thoughts, I filled a glass for myself before leaning back against the counter.
For a moment, neither of us said anything, the quietstretching between us. And as I tried to think of something to talk about, I found myself wondering what she thought about today.
Had it been strange helping me pack up my late wife’s things after our dance and everything that had happened last night? Because I was about ninety-nine percent certain that the moment in my bedroom hadn’t just been in my head.
Though, who really knew at this point since my subconscious had certainly decided to take that memory and run with it in a direction that had left me waking up in the middle of the night feeling like the world’s worst husband to his late wife.
Ugh… why did moving on have to bring up so many conflicting feelings?
I sighed and drained the remaining water from my glass, turning back to the fridge to refill it. As the water poured down from the dispenser, I glanced at Nora again.
She was tapping lightly on her phone now, checking notifications like she was looking for something to do.
Was she uncomfortable?
Could she sense that my thoughts had gotten a little complicated over the past week?
Did she somehow know about the dream?
I really hope not.
Because that would be bad.
Probably have her packing up her brand-new belongings and getting out of here as fast as she could.
I grabbed another lemon wedge from the counter and squeezed some of the juice into my cup to give my hands something to do.
I needed to think of something to say. This silence was stretching on a little too long.
Think, Theo, think.
Because it really shouldn’t bethathard. We could talk about anything.
Well, anything that didn’t include me admitting that I might be developing a very inconvenient crush on my cute nanny.
Because, yeah, that was definitely not something I should be talking about, let alone thinking about.
Right?
Sure, clearing out Alisha’s closet this afternoon had been an important step forward in my healing process—last night’s dream had made it painfully obvious that I couldn’t keep trying to move forward while still keeping one foot in the past.
But that didn’t mean I should start acting on every confusing feeling that came along, did it?
Trying to put the moves on my daughter’s twenty-two-year-old nanny would definitely not be a nice, easy way to “ease” into dating more seriously. No, that would just throw my life into more chaos.
Wouldn’t it?
“What time will Charlotte be back?” Nora asked then, thankfully breaking the silence before my brain could spiral any further.
I checked the time on my watch. It was 5:11.
“Within the next hour or so,” I said, clearing my throat. “The Vanderbilts said they’d try to have her back by six.”
“Okay, cool.” Nora nodded. “It’ll be fun having her back.”