A throat clears. “Hi, I’m Monica, Hazel’s aunt.”
Christ. Monica introduces herself to Abby, who has a deer-in-the-headlights expression plastered on her face as she fidgets with the hem of her duck pajamas.
Monica is glancing between me and Abby. I’m not wearing a shirt, and Abby looks like she just rolled out of my bed. I scrub my face with my palm.
How the hell do I introduce Abby? As my girlfriend? Which we still haven’t discussed yet. That’s one hundred percent my fault, but it still doesn’t change my predicament here. And if I say she’s my girlfriend, will that upset Cynthia more? But this is not the way I wanna break it to Hazel. Do I say Abby’s my babysitter? Except how the hell do I explain her outfit?
I go with the truth. “This is my nanny Abigail. She lives with us.”
There. Short and sweet. And, more importantly, not a lie.
Abby’s eyes cut to me, and I can see the hurt and disappointment in them.
Shit, this isn’t going well. I should open my mouth and dislodge my foot, but I’m afraid I’ll make this worse.
She awkwardly waves at everyone. “I’m heading to work in a bit, but it’s nice to meet y’all.” Then she turns and scurries out of the room.
Monica eyes me. “She’s cute.”
Abby’s fucking gorgeous, but I’m not stepping in that trap. I motion for Monica and her dad to have a seat. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” When I’m in the kitchen, I grab a sweatshirt that’s hanging on the back of a chair and pull it on.
After I’ve gotten everyone some coffee, Abby darts by in her Moe’s uniform. “Have a nice visit.”
She doesn’t look at me. Just leaves.
Inside, I groan. I’ll talk to her later. I can only handle one dumpster fire at a time.
36
ABIGAIL
My legs are lead blocks as I drag myself around the diner. I feel like a zombie, forcing smiles and going through the motions, all the while obsessing about what happened this morning at Nick’s.
He called me his nanny.
Not his girlfriend.
Not his friend.
Not his roommate.
His nanny, the most impersonal option.
Maybe Nick didn’t want to make waves with Gemma’s family, or maybe he wasn’t ready to say it in front of Hazel. I get it. But seeing as how I’m on the cusp of leaving for Europe, that hit me hard.
“I didn’t order this.” The woman in front of me makes a face. “I don’t eat bacon. Those poor little pigs.”
I don’t have the patience I need for this job today, and my throat is hoarse from screaming at the game. “I’m so sorry.” I place the pancakes with the extra bacon in front of her boyfriend and move his plate with the turkey bacon in front of her. I don’t question her decision to forgo pork while enjoying fowl. “Can I get y’all anything else?”
Her boyfriend rubs his temple. “Got anything for hangovers? We partied a little too hard last night. Had to celebrate the Broncos’ win.”
That pulls a smile from my lips. “It was a phenomenal game.” I might be upset with Nick, but I’m still his biggest fan. “Do you feel like beer or a mixed drink?” We just got our liquor license last month. Moe’s hoping to boost sales with booze and fried appetizers, and it’s working. That’s why he begged me to come in to cover a double shift today at the last minute.
After I rattle off the drink options, I head to the back to get the customer’s beverage.
“Can I get a mojito?” I call out to Moe as I use a napkin to remove a smudge in my glasses.
“It’s only ten in the morning,” he says as he scrambles eggs on the grill.
