You don’t find this on the Disney channel, do ya, kids? Blake smirked. Maybe it wasn’t the wisest choice, but it kept their butts on the cushion. That had to count for something, right? Besides, he was most definitely having nightmares after the day he had. Call this retribution. Call it what you will. The kids were quiet, so he was happy.
And, really, he’d done a pretty stand-up job for a first-timer. The kids were alive (as was he, albeit barely), so he’d say it was a win-win. All he needed when he got home was a handful of aspirin for his ear-splitting headache (or a fifth of whiskey), about five years of sleep, a good meal, a hot shower, and then he’d feel human again.
Now he just had to break the news to Mel that he quit. Let’s face it, he was not cut out for childcare. He’d developed a newfound respect for those in the profession. It was brutal work. Maybe there was a different way he could prove himself to Jen and her parents. Like a class he could take or some kind of training. They could go to a relationship counselor, take one of those ridiculous compatibility tests. Surely, it was easier when it was your own kids? He had to believe that.
The door swung open, and Mel stumbled inside. Blake immediately flicked the TV off. No need to broadcast his poor choice in cinematic entertainment. Besides, he planned on getting out as quickly as possible. But the moment Jeff Goldblum disappeared from their screen, the kids turned to him. He shot them a meaningful look. One that said, this is our little secret, and just barely resisted the urge to signal with a threatening slash across his neck.
Mel dropped her briefcase by the door. Her hair had half fallen out of her ponytail, her pants were wrinkled, and the shirt she wore had seen better days. He was pretty sure that was a mustard stain on the hem. She was a mess. A hot mess.
Blake cleared his throat, and those amber e
yes quickly flitted from him to her children. Her full lower lip pulled into a frown as she scanned them from head-to-toe. Then finally, her feminine features flooded with relief.
“Mommy!” the three children screamed in unison and launched off the couch, clinging to her legs at once like a trio of leaches.
How did they have so much energy?
“Hey, babies. Let me take a look at you.” She leaned back, plucking them off her one-by-one, assessing them up close, which was crazy. If anyone needed to be examined for injuries, it was him. Her kids were soul-sucking.
“Are you okay? Did anything happen? Are you hurt? Was the strange man nice?” she asked, rapid-fire.
Blake frowned, but he was too tired to take offense to the “strange man” reference, especially since his sole focus was high tailing it out of there after giving his resignation. Sorry, no two weeks’ notice here.
This whole nanny idea was a good one while it lasted.
Seemingly satisfied her kids were all intact and unharmed, Mel straightened and met his gaze. “How were they?”
“Uh, great. They were great,” Blake lied. For some reason, faced with her in person, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that watching her kids required a declaration of martial law.
She nodded before her gaze flickered over the living room, to which Blake followed her line of sight. The place definitely looked like a bomb went off. It hadn’t exactly been tidy when he got there that morning, but if there was carpet somewhere underneath the layer of toys and snack wrappers under their feet, it was news to him.
“Uh . . .” Blake scratched his head. “Yeah, sorry about the mess. It was . . . an active day,” he said, happy with himself for his creative choice of words.
“We had fun!” Blake yelled. “We ate pizza, Mr. Blake puked, and we watched movies.” He jumped on his toes, a little ball of energy.
Blake reached a hand out. “Uh, I didn’t puk—”
“And T-Rex ate people,” Kinsley chimed in.
Mel turned her perplexed expression to him. A little crease furrowed the milky skin between her brow. And just when he thought she might get upset, she laughed. “So, did you guys have fun?” she asked, but instead of looking at the children this time, her gaze was focused solely on him, assessing.
“Yeah!” the trio screamed and jumped up and down in a circle around their mother.
“And so you want him to come back?” Mel asked. She continued watching Blake as he tried not to squirm.
Three tiny heads bobbed in unison, to which Mel smiled. Her face crumpled like an accordion with relief. “Oh, my gosh. I have to say, I’m so glad.” She flattened her palms against her chest and headed for the couch, where she sunk down into the cushions. “I was so worried after I got to work. I kept imagining all these worst-case scenarios. Like you being an ax-murderer or—”
“Mommy, what’s an ax-murderer?” Peter asked.
“Oh, nothing, honey.” She patted Peter’s little blonde head. “But it was okay,” she said, glancing around her, eyes wide in amazement. “Everything is going to be okay.” She barked out a laugh like she couldn’t believe it.
Her relief stabbed him in the gut because it sure made what he needed to tell her a whole lot harder.
“Actually . . .” Blake said. Now seemed like a good time to break the news. Better not let her get too positive. “For tomorrow—”
“Oh, yes! About tomorrow. I have some news.” She clapped and turned to her kids. “Mommy is the new executive editor of the digital column at PopNewz. Ahhhh!” She screamed and sprung from the couch, yanking the three of them into a hug. “Can you believe it?” she asked, her voice muffled by Kinsley’s curls. “Mommy got a promotion.”
“Mommy, you’re squeezing me too hard,” Kinsley whined.