Eight Days a Week, Page 3

  She ran her hand through Brady’s hair and sighed. “Please, don’t stop cooking on her account. I think these two like watching that kind of thing.”

  “Okay.” I was feeling a bit out of sorts, but cooking took my mind off almost everything unpleasant.

  Bree and Gwen chatted in hushed tones while I prepped the dinner. Brady remained standing to the side, silent. His staring was starting to get a little creepy.

  “Do you have truffles? Or truffle oil? That’d work, too. Fresh pasta?”

  Gwen stopped speaking and frowned. “What?”

  “Pasta. Truffles. I can put them in here with the mac and cheese.” I pointed to the pot on the stove.

  Her laugh was loud, and she threw her head back as her body shook. She walked to the pantry and pulled out a blue box. “They’re kids. They eat from a box. Slice some hot dogs and call it a meal, you foodie.”

  I glared at her in mock hatred and grabbed the box. “You’ll learn to eat real food by the time I leave.”

  Her face fell, and Bree looked at the floor. My gaze drifted over to Brady, and his eyes were wide as saucers.

  Their dad had left them. That had to have been it. I opened my mouth but could think of nothing to say.

  Change of subject. Be cool. What did they do on television? What would Tony Danza do?

  He’d sleep with his boss, Angela.

  Shit. Sitcoms were no help at all.

  Gwen and Bree set the table as I plated the food, and we all sat down to eat. In utter silence. The only sounds were clinks of forks and chewing and the kids’ feet banging against the legs of the table.

  I was beginning to think maybe I’d been wrong about being a natural with kids. I started to count the clicks of the second hand on the kitchen clock.

  “Dis is good, Enrew.”

  My head snapped up, and I looked around for the voice. Brady had spoken his first words since he’d walked through the door.

  “Thanks.” I gave him an encouraging smile.

  Bree sighed. “Say ‘Andrew.’ ”

  Brady shook his head and looked down.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “Do you want to call me Drew?”

  He shook his head again.

  “How about . . .” I pretended to think. “Andy?”

  He smiled and took another bite. “Dee.”

  “Dee it is.”

  I felt Gwen staring at me, and I looked in her direction. She was teary-eyed but had a small smile on her face.

  “Thank you.” She mouthed the words so the kids couldn’t hear. I had no idea what I’d done to deserve it, but watching her mouth made my stomach tighten.

  While I cleared the table, Gwen took the kids upstairs to get ready for bed. I said good night and retired to my new apartment, thinking that there was a chance I’d made the right decision after all.

  The next morning I headed to the kitchen to make breakfast for the kids, and Gwen darted by me with ridiculous speed, dressed to kill in a skirt and heels. She nodded once before she grabbed a cup of coffee and pointed up the stairs.

  “Bree is up and about, but you’ll need to get Brady ready soon. Watch out for that carpool drop-off lane. It’s a killer.” She paused briefly to touch my shoulder then walked out the door. Her parting smile and the way her fingers lingered for a second made me lose focus until I heard Bree come into the kitchen.

  “Hi.” Her voice was small and she sounded tired. She looked way too sleepy to function. Had she not slept at all?

  I made her breakfast, and she zoned out in front of the kitchen television while I went up to Brady’s room. He was curled up tight under his covers even though every light in his room was on.

  I stood over him, apprehensive about being left alone with such a small child. I reached a hand out and poked him with my finger. “Hey. Brady, man. Wake up.”

  He stirred.

  I racked my brain for a solution, but all I could come up with were camp pranks. And I didn’t have any shaving cream or strawberry jelly to put on his face at the moment. Plus, then I’d have needed a feather, and I just didn’t have time for all of that.

  I sat on the side of the bed and planted my palm on his back. Shaking him a bit, I spoke louder. “Brady. Gotta get up.”

  He rolled over and hid his head under the pillow.

  What the hell? Maybe I’d dip his wrist in some hot water. Oh shit. Was he potty trained? Would I have to change diapers? That would be a ton of piss. I started to panic and wiped my face in frustration. I had no idea what I was doing.

  “You have to sing the good morning song,” Bree said from the doorway.

  “What?”

  She rolled her eyes and stood in front of his bed. “Good morning, good morning, good morning to you!” She clapped her hands halfheartedly and repeated it until Brady rolled over.

  “Every day?” I asked in defeat.

  “At least it’s not the rise and shine song. That has claps and cheers.” Bree gave a half smile and turned toward the door. “My bus is coming. I gotta go.”

  “Do I need to walk you out?”

  She shook her head. “I can take care of myself.”

  I doubted a seven-year-old should have been walking to the bus stop alone, so I grabbed Brady’s limp body and slung him over my shoulder so I could follow Bree down and stand on the front step while she got on the bus. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving as I watched her board, and when she was seated, she waved to let me know I could go back inside.

  Brady stretched and kicked, just missing my nuts, and then his eyes opened wide as he wiggled out of my arms.

  “Hungry,” he whispered.

  It was the last word he said until I dropped him off at school.

  Chapter 4

  Day Tripper

  Crickets.

  Brady was staring at me from across the table. Unmoving. Unblinking. Not speaking.

  It was like an old Western. The house was too quiet as I stared back at him. He was winning this contest. And I’d had no idea we were even in one to begin with.

  Break, kid. Break.

  “Do you want to watch TV?” I think I yelled. Pretty sure I did.

  Brady nodded and climbed off the kitchen chair to shuffle into the living room. I followed and turned on the television before leaving it on some kids’ channel. Then I stepped back into the kitchen and pulled out my cell phone.

  “Xander. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with this kid.”

  “He’s a child and you’re immature. Play with him.”

  I stuck my head back through the door to the living room, and my jaw dropped open. “Brady! You can’t watch that!”

  He looked up at me, his eyebrows furrowed, from his place on the floor. The remote was far away from him, next to the screen, so he couldn’t have changed the channel. I snatched it up and hit the information button. “What the hell is a YoGabbaGabba?” I looked back over at Brady and frowned. “Uh, never mind. Go ahead.”

  Walking with purpose back into the kitchen, I whispered into the receiver. “Okay. No joke, there is a talking, dancing, bright red, studded dildo on the screen. There are other ones that look like him, and I swear to God one is wearing a condom on his head. That’s a kids’ show?” I looked back into the living room. “Whatever happened to good old-fashioned cartoons? Don’t they have good shit like Animaniacs anymore?”

  Xander laughed. “You’re losing it already? Just take him to the park. Better yet, I have an idea. I know a guy who owns one of those kid gym places. The kind with the blow-up bouncy things? Hold on . . . it’s called Monkey Joe’s. The owner is Ian Reed. He’s a cool guy—he plays guitar at my bar sometimes. Tell him I sent you and go have fun with that kid before the other one comes home from school.” He gave me the address and phone number, and I mentally kicked my own ass for not thinking of something like that earlier.

  I loaded Brady into the Celibacy Wagon and drove to Monkey Joe’s. When we pulled up in front of the building, there weren’t many cars in the parking
lot. Better for me.

  Once inside, Brady hung back by the door. Behind the counter was a man who looked like he took his time at the gym very seriously. He was an inch or two taller than me, but he had at least twenty pounds of lean muscle over what I was carrying around. If I was intimidated, I could only imagine what the kids must have thought when they walked in.

  Or the moms.

  The man was brilliant.

  Brady hid behind my leg, and the man approached us and bent to smile at him.

  “Hey, guy.” His tone was soft. “Did you come to bounce?”

  Brady nodded.

  The man looked at me and gave a knowing smile. “How old? About four?”

  “Yeah, I figured I’d get him out of the house.” I pulled out my wallet and handed him my debit card. “My best friend, Xander, sent me here. He manages the Black Hole Bar.”

  “I like Xander. Nice guy.” He swiped my card and handed it back to me. “I’m Ian.”

  I shook his hand and put a palm on Brady’s shoulder. “This is Brady, and I’m Andrew.” I motioned for Brady to step closer, but the kid shrank back instead. “He won’t bite.”

  Brady looked down, not making eye contact.

  “It’s all right.” Ian bent at the knees and got down to eye level to wrap a yellow bracelet around Brady’s wrist. Then he cocked his head like he was thinking. “You’re big enough to bounce on any of those, so take your pick.”

  Brady’s eyes grew so wide I thought he’d pass out. He looked to me for approval, and I nodded, pointing to the biggest one with a slide.

  “Go. Have fun.”

  He started walking toward the bouncy houses and then stopped to turn and look back at me.

  “You should go with him,” Ian said. “They get scared the first time. We’re pretty empty today, so you can bounce, too.” His kind eyes crinkled as he handed me a bracelet.

  Hot damn. I loved bouncy houses.

  “Cool.” I was trying to act like I didn’t care, but my inner kid was running around snorting pixie sticks.

  I scooped Brady up and pulled his shoes off while toeing off my own. Then I slid him into the tent-like opening, and he stood on his feet, wobbling.

  “Bounce.”

  He just stared. So I shoved at the “floor” with my hands, shaking it to get him off balance. He stayed frozen.

  I sighed and climbed in. “Like this.” I bounced, sending him flying into the air and landing with a squeak.

  I pulled him to standing and bounced with him again, but he remained stiff. “Screw it,” I mumbled. Then I just started bouncing up and down with force until his body flew around like a rag doll, and he giggled. My heart was racing and my legs were starting to hurt, but he was bouncing, too. Finally. I helped him climb up the net to get to the slide, and we went down together while he laughed and raised his hands.

  He was having fun. And so was I.

  I was getting something right.

  When we reached the bottom, I scooted him off my lap, and he scrambled back up into the bouncer while I caught my breath.

  I wasn’t out of shape, but damn.

  “These are designed to wear them out for naps,” said a voice from my left. I turned to see a pretty girl with platinum-blond hair.

  “I don’t know when he goes down for a nap.”

  Her nose scrunched up, and she shook her head. “You can’t be his dad if you don’t know about naps. So you must be his . . . caretaker?”

  “Are you trying not to call me a nanny?” I asked, and she blushed.

  “You scream newbie. Or distant uncle. I just didn’t want to offend you if I was wrong.” She shrugged. “Not that I’m usually wrong.”

  I extended my hand. “Andrew.”

  “Marlowe.”

  “So, Marlowe, are you a nanny?”

  She nodded toward a little brown-haired girl rolling around on the floor. “I’m responsible for that lovely little five-year old over there. Kate is a handful, to say the least.”

  “Brady doesn’t speak.”

  She cocked her head and pursed her lips. “Really? Why?”

  “I have no idea. I just started, like . . . today.”

  “You weren’t given any of the child’s history?”

  “Children. Plural. And no.”

  “You should ask.” Marlowe looked over at Brady, and her face softened. “He looks lonely.” She dug around in her purse and came up with a piece of paper and a pen. “Here. Call me if you want to get the kids together for a play date. Or if you just need advice on anything. I’ve been doing this for ages.” Her smile was genuine. “And you look like you could use all the help you can get. No offense.”

  I took the paper and scratched my nose. “None taken.”

  She waved goodbye and pulled Kate off the floor, taking her hand as they walked out the door with a small wave in Ian’s direction.

  Ian came to join me, and we watched Brady bouncing through the tent flaps. “Marlowe’s a nice girl.”

  I nodded. “That’s good.”

  “Watch yourself,” he said, and it sounded like a threat.

  “No, no. I’m not interested in Marlowe. Trust me. I have my eyes on a bigger prize.”

  He raised his eyebrows, but I didn’t say anything more because I didn’t want to sound like a total ass-hat. So Ian just helped me keep an eye on Brady. After a while, he patted me on the back and pointed toward the kid sliding out of the flaps and onto the ground. “Looks like your li’l guy is ready to go.”

  He handed me a card and wrote his cell number on it. “Let me know if you’re up at the bar anytime soon. We’ll go throw stuff at Xander. I’ll order a pitcher of beer for us.”

  It wouldn’t hurt to have some friends now that I was back in town, so I accepted.

  We got home just before Bree’s bus pulled up. Her shoulders were slumped as she crossed the lawn with her book bag, her eyes narrowed and jaw set. “What are you doing?” she asked in a half whisper.

  “I’m waiting on you.” It should have been the most obvious thing in the world, so I patted her head. “It’s my job.”

  Over the next three hours, I helped with homework and fed them dinner before overseeing their daily chores. Both kids were quiet, as usual, and I checked the clock and sighed. It was after seven and Gwen still wasn’t home. I’d been up with these kids for over thirteen hours.

  “We take baths now,” Bree said and headed up the stairs to the second floor.

  “Uh . . .” I felt the panic rise in my chest again. “Do you do that on your own?”

  Bree stopped halfway up and turned around. “I do. But Brady needs you.” She climbed the last few steps and disappeared around the corner.

  “Oh no.” I scrounged for the number in my pocket. After dialing, I paced the floor until the phone picked up. “Marlowe?”

  “Yes?” she asked, her voice wary.

  “Hey, it’s Andrew from the bouncy place. With the kids?”

  She chuckled. “You are completely freaking out.”

  “Yeah. I am. Brady needs a bath and . . .” I ran my hand over my face and then pinched the bridge of my nose. “Well, I just . . . um . . .”

  “Take a deep breath. You’ve never even given a bath?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. You take baths, right?”

  I snorted. “Yes.”

  “Then you know what to do.”

  “You know what? You’re no help at all. I just wasn’t sure if it was illegal for me to bathe him.”

  “Yes, you can give kids a bath. God—”

  “Are you judging me? Isn’t there some kind of Nanny Code about that?”

  She sighed into the phone. “Oh, Andrew. What are we going to do with you?”

  I looked into the living room and shook my head. “I don’t have a clue.”

  “Good luck.”

  I gathered my courage before scooping up Brady and carrying him to the bathroom. I turned on the water to fill up the tub, and he screamed.

  “
Whoa!” I yelled and sat on the floor. “What? What’s wrong?” I searched his face, but he was screaming and huddled against the wall. “I mean it. Calm down,” I said, but he only screamed louder. “Come on.” I took his hand and led him to his room. “Do you need something from in here to take a bath?”

  His cries turned to sobs and sniffles while he rummaged around his toy chest and came up with some floaties.

  “Okay. Floaties. What else?”

  He pointed to me.

  “Nah, I can’t get in there with you, kid.”

  His face crumpled again, and I relented.

  “Okay, fine. Just stop crying and we’ll get you clean.”

  I walked with him back to the bathroom and held my breath. This was not going to be comfortable at all. He was leaving his underoos on, that was for sure.

  Once we got his clothes off, I slid the floaties onto his arms and dropped him into the bubbles. Then I shrugged out of my shirt, got rid of my pants, and climbed in.

  And there we sat. Two dudes in the tub in our undies. Except he had floaties on and that seemed much more fun than sitting scrunched up against the side of the tub for fear I would touch him in some way.

  He stopped crying and we got him washed, except for his manly bits, because I figured being in the water while it sloshed around was just as good as scrubbing. It would have to be for tonight, until I could find out how to get him bathed without having to touch him.

  The water turned tepid, and I coaxed him out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel. He wiped his face and pretended to shiver. “Hold on. Let me get my towel,” I said, and he stayed still. I got out and secured the towel over my soaking-wet boxers I was now trying to maneuver in, and then I heard a loud gasp from the bathroom door.

  My head swiveled around, and I was face to face with Gwen.

  “I-I . . .” she stuttered and looked from me to Brady. Her face grew bright red and she pointed at me. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m giving your kid a bath.”

  “You don’t bathe with him!”

  “Listen, lady. He wouldn’t get in without me. He’s got his undies on and so do I.” I pursed my lips and raised my eyebrows. “Do you need me to show you?”