The Nanny

by Lana Ferguson

To my sweet mother, who once asked me: “Wouldn’t you rather write children’s books instead?”

the kind of tall that makes you want to ask him to grab something off the top shelf for you just so you can watch the way his shoulders move under his shirt.

His eyes are a clash of one brown and one green, the colors not bright but subtle, like warm tea and seawater that are hard to look away from.

it won’t do to regret my nervous word vomit now.

“Did you know that someone good at crosswords is called a cruciverbalist?”

She looks at me like the question is an offensive one. “Really? ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno’?” “Why don’t we talk about Bruno?”

“Because you have the organizational skills of a pack rat with amnesia.”

“Secrets don’t make friends,”

It isn’t fair that he is so good-looking. Paired with the fact that he’s sweet and funny and doing his best as a single dad . . . my ovaries are forming their own fan club at this point.

“It’s my master plan,” I say seriously. “Edge you right out of the house and raise Sophie as my supervillain sidekick.”

Maybe I really should have played hooky for the rest of the night. I could be putting together a puzzle at home with the girls right now. The girls. It takes me by surprise, the way my brain instantly lumped them together that way. I don’t know when I started to think of them as a package deal, waiting for me at home, but I do, I realize.

“I told you, only liars use ‘fine.’ ”

You can’t plan your whole future just because of one bad day from the past.

Things have been so perfect, and don’t I deserve a little perfect in my life? It’s been ages since I’ve had any. There has to be some universally accepted perfect-to-shit ratio for everyone.

“You’re good at other things,” Sophie tries. “Like . . . you always know where the batteries are!” “Wow,” Aiden says dryly. “Suddenly my life has meaning again.”

It’s like the universe wants me to cry today. Fickle bitch, I’m telling you.

“Oh. It’s fine.” She shrugs. “But if you break up, I get to keep Cassie as my nanny.” “I’m glad to know where I lie in the pyramid of your priorities,” Aiden mumbles.

Stubborn doesn’t quit at a roadblock, Cassie. It finds another damned road.”

What a ridiculous phrase. Meaningless. How is it that in millions of years we haven’t managed to come up with a better string of words to offer someone whose heart’s being stomped on? I’m sorry feels like offering a Band-Aid for a shark bite. Utterly. Useless.

“You’re haunting this damned place like a ghost. If you don’t go outside soon, you’re gonna start collecting cobwebs.”

I sound like a less cool Wednesday Addams lately.

Cherophobia is the fear of happiness.

I don’t think the measure of a parent is the mistakes they make. I think it’s how hard they work to fix them.”

“The dream is coming home to someone who loves you every day.”

My mom always said that you can fix anything with love.”