There With You by Samantha Young
Regan
So was Thane’s wife not in the picture?I wondered as everyone put together plates of food at the nearby kitchen island before settling at the large dining table. There had been no mention of asking a wife to join us for dinner, so I assumed Thane was divorced. He didn’t wear a wedding ring.
Watching Eilidh point out to her dad what she wanted on her plate, I piped up, “Why don’t you make a chicken nugget mash bowl?”
Eilidh stared at me with round eyes, her expression intrigued. “What’s that?”
I looked at Thane. “May I?”
He nodded and stepped away from the island. “Have at it.”
“So.” I grinned at Eilidh as I got up from my seat and went to her. “I can pretty much make chicken nuggets into twenty different meals.”
“It’s true,” Robyn agreed, and my heart lightened at her nostalgic smile. “Regan was the neighborhood babysitter, and then she was a nanny during the summers for a few years. She got creative recreating takeout food.”
From the age of thirteen, I babysat the neighborhood kids. It was how I made a little extra cash throughout high school. I liked kids. They were sweet and funny and guileless. Because of that, I’d started taking on summer nanny positions for families during their school breaks. I worked as a nanny every summer from eighteen to twenty-two.
“Surprising,” Lachlan murmured. “The nanny part, that is.”
His insinuation made me defensive. “Why?”
He seemed unperturbed by the slight bite in my tone. “You just don’t seem like the responsible type.”
“Lachlan,” Robyn warned.
I didn’t want her sticking up for me when she was the reason he thought I was a useless flake. “I see my sister has been filling your head with the crap our parents filled her head with.”
Lachlan raised an eyebrow while Robyn stiffened in her seat. She opened her mouth to answer, but I looked away and smiled down at Thane’s daughter and teased, “Okay, so don’t freak out, but I’m gonna cut up the nuggets.”
Eilidh’s eyes got bigger, but she nodded with trust.
Grinning through the tension emanating from the adults in the room, I quickly set to work scooping some mashed potatoes from the takeout container into a bowl. I then arranged the chicken nuggets around the edges of the mash. There wasn’t any gravy, but there was ketchup. I shook the bottle at her. “You like?”
She nodded as she threw her arms out wide. “This much.”
Chuckling, I drizzled the ketchup over the mash and chicken nuggets and carried it to the table for her. “Enjoy.”
She dove in that bowl with so much delight, a person might think I’d given her a golden crown. Thane gave me a nod of thanks and took a seat to eat his dinner.
I sat next to Lewis, across from Robyn, and said, “Next time, I’ll show you how to do chicken nugget nachos.”
“I’d like that too,” Lewis said.
“Yeah?”
He nodded and took a bite out of a burger. Robyn really had ordered everything she could think of.
“What else can you make?” Lewis asked around a mouthful.
“Please swallow before you talk,” Thane admonished in a tone that suggested he’d said the same thing a million times before.
“Anything a six-year-old would want to eat, Regan can do it,” my sister answered for me.
“Actually, my cooking skills have progressed a little since high school. I took a few cooking classes when I was in Europe and Asia.”
“Cooking classes in Europe and Asia.” Robyn whistled. “How very cultured of you.”
Thankfully, Eilidh spoke up so I could avoid my sister’s passive-aggressive comment. “This. Is. SO. GOOD.” She banged her fork on the table in emphasis.
“Yeah? Can I have a bite?”
She nodded enthusiastically and pushed the bowl across the table toward me. I took a scoopful of ketchup-soaked nuggets and mash on my fork. Chewing it, I nodded, my eyes dramatic and round. When I swallowed, I agreed, “So. Good.”
Her answering grin was the cutest thing I’d ever seen, her little face lighting up. When she spoke again, it was with kid randomness. “I love your nail varnish. Will you paint my nails?”
“I don’t know. That’s up to your dad.”
Thane shook his head. “You’re too young for nail varnish.”
“But, Daddy!”
Sensing a tantrum on the horizon, I intervened, “Nail polish is for when you’re older. But I could braid your hair. Have you ever worn a fishtail braid?”
“What’s a braid?”
I raised an eyebrow. Did her mom not braid her hair?
“It’s a pleat,” Thane answered.
Her expression cleared, and I realized we’d hit on a cultural misunderstanding. Scots called braids pleats, just like they called polish varnish and ken was know. I filed that away. “I can pleat your hair later. A fishtail is such a cute look.”
“It doesn’t sound cute.” She wrinkled her nose, making me laugh.
“Don’t think of it as a fishtail … think of it more like a mermaid tail.”
“I love mermaids!” Eilidh gasped, her eyes round with excitement.
Oh my God, she was so cute I could die.
“Lucy,” she panted around her food, “Lucy tried to pleat my hair once, but she said it was too curly.”
Before I could say that I’d have no problem mastering her wild curls, a thick tension fell over the table.
Then I realized why.
Lucy.
Did she mean Lucy Wainwright?
Shit.
And why was a starlet offering to braid Eilidh’s hair and not her mother?
“Dad said we’re not allowed to talk about Lucy, Eilidh. You’re so stupid,” Lewis snapped, his cheeks reddening with frustration.
Eilidh’s face crumpled.
“Lewis, I didn’t say that, and don’t speak to your sister that way.” Thane glared angrily at his son.
Lewis looked like someone had slapped him. “But you said—”
“You misunderstood me.” Thane sighed wearily. “The point is, you never speak to each other like that. Okay?”
Seeing tears brighten in Eilidh’s face, I hurried to distract her. “I can pleat your hair for school tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
I nodded, smiling.
“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Lewis reminded me sullenly, his eyes to his food.
His dad watched him with a pained, worried expression.
Jeez. What was going on here?
“Right. Well, I can pleat Eilidh’s hair anytime.”
“Tomorrow?” She bounced impatiently in her seat. “I want a mermaid’s tail!”
“Sure. It’s a plan,” I promised, and then nudged Lewis’s elbow. “So school, huh? What grade are you in?”
He looked up at me, his cheeks still red from his dad’s earlier admonishment. “Grade?”
“Primary class,” Robyn offered.
“I just started primary three.”
I didn’t know what that meant. “Just started?”
“School just started back this week,” Thane replied.
“Oh, right. So … primary three. That makes you … eight, nine?” I guessed by his height.
His eyes lit up. “Seven.”
“You’re tall for seven. Must get that from your dad and uncle, huh?”
Lewis looked pleased and nodded.
Grinning, I turned to Eilidh. “And what primary class are you in?”
“Five!” She splayed the fingers of her right hand.
Her brother giggled. “Not age, Eils. Class. She’s in primary one. It was her first-ever week at school.”
“Wow. Big week for you then?”
She nodded rapidly around a mouthful.
Seriously. So freaking cute.
“She got Ms. Hansen, and she’s the best teacher.” Lewis grimaced. “I got Mrs. Welsh.”
“You don’t like Mrs. Welsh?”
He wrinkled his nose. “She’s grumpy and doesn’t like the boys and she picks on you if you don’t know the answer to something. And she smells.”
Thane sighed heavily. Looking at him, I could tell he wanted to reprimand Lewis for insulting his teacher, but after the moment they just had, he was probably reluctant to pile it on.
“Does she really smell, or are you just saying that because you don’t like her?”
He thought about this. “Well, Connor said she smells.”
“Who’s Connor?”
“One of my friends.”
“So … because Connor said Mrs. Welsh smells, you all say it now?”
He nodded.
“Is it true?”
He shrugged. “Not really. But the other stuff is.”
“Okay. Well, it sucks that Mrs. Welsh is impatient and grumpy, but we shouldn’t really say mean stuff about people if it’s not true, right?”
Lewis considered this. “So I should stop saying she smells?”
“Yeah. It would be the right thing to do. The kind thing.”
“But I can say she’s mean? Because that’s true.”
Trying not to laugh, I replied diplomatically, “That’s fine if it’s true, and it’s always good to be honest, especially if someone is picking on you, no matter what age they are. But I always say it’s best to fight unkindness with kindness. So anytime you come across someone in life who isn’t very nice to you, it does no good to come down to their level and be unkind in return. And sometimes, when you’re kind to someone who hasn’t been kind to you, you change their attitude, and they stop being mean to you. Yeah?”
I was shocked by how attentive this seven-year-old boy was, but Lewis was hanging on to my every word and seemed to process it. Finally, he nodded and said, “Okay.”
It was only then that I realized the table was quiet. Looking up, I found my three adult companions staring at me: Thane in gratitude, Lachlan in surprise, and my sister with an expression that veered between pride and melancholy.
The melancholy gutted me.
“Finished!” Eilidh yelled, breaking the moment. She had ketchup all over her cheeks.
I grinned, grateful for the cutie. “Did you eat any of it or just get it all over your face?”
Joy glittered in her eyes, and she slapped her little hands down on the table and cackled. Her loud, hilarious giggling was so infectious, she made us all burst into laughter.
It was a pity her magic didn’t last.
* * *
A while later, Thane and his cute kids left with the promise that I’d pop by in the morning to braid Eilidh’s hair. Jet lag had hit me, and Robyn sensed I was fading.
“Let me help with the dishes,” I offered for the thousandth time as she and Lachlan tidied up.
“We have a dishwasher,” Robyn repeated. “You look exhausted. Go to bed.”
My eyelids were drooping, so I followed her order and stumbled upstairs. I barely remembered changing into pjs and getting into bed.
It would be hours later when an electronic sound filtered into my unconsciousness, and I forced open my heavy eyes, blinking against the light flooding into the room. It took me a minute to remember where I was.
Groaning as soft daylight illuminated the bedroom, I rolled over in the super comfortable guest bed and fumbled for my phone on the side table. The screen lit up—six o’clock in the morning.
The blackout blinds were on an automatic timer.
For six o’clock in the morning.
“We’ll need to do something about that,” I muttered grumpily as I shoved myself into a sitting position. It was then I registered the email notification banner on my phone.
All I saw was the word Austin and a wave of nausea rose in my gut.
No, no, how could he have this email?
Fingers shaking, I clicked on it, relief washing through me when I realized it was just stupid spam for a discount on a hike-and-bike trail tour in Austin, Texas.
“Fuck,” I muttered, cradling my head in my hands. It had been five months since my last email from Austin, when I’d finally stopped letting him control my life with his harassment and deleted my email and social media accounts, changed my cell number, and pretended he’d never existed.
It was his last email that had finally awakened my fighting spirit. His words were so unhinged, they were seared on my memory.
Beautiful, I can’t sleep again. How many hours of sleep have I lost over you? You owe me those hours. Hours I should have been inside you, watching you come, making those sweet noises you make as you’re reaching for it. I want to punish you so badly for making me feel this way. It’s your fault I’m so fucked up. You made me love you. You’re making me chase you. But when I find you, when we find each other, you’ll see what I see. That we’re meant to be together. I would never hurt you. Anything I say or do is to keep you safe with me.
I can’t wait to make love to you.
But first, you’ll get the punishment fuck you think you escaped. I’ve been imagining it over and over in my head. I want it to hurt so you can feel my pain. God, it makes me so hard just thinking about it.
You see what you do to me?
I love you. I love you so much, Regan. You’ll see it too. Soon.
All my love,
Austin
Remembering that morning in my motel room in California when I’d opened that email, my nausea intensified. At the time I’d thrown my phone across the bed, hurried to the bathroom, slammed up the toilet seat, fallen to my knees, and gagged.
Nothing came up.
I’d dry heaved over it for what seemed like ages. Shuddering, tears had rolled down my cheeks, and I’d swiped angrily at them.
Just remembering that morning still made me furious and sick to my stomach.
I’d leaned against the dirty tile wall and hugged my body, trying to hold in the sobs that wanted to break free.
I’d never hated anyone before.
Not until Austin.
I hadn’t known a person could so entirely derail a life. That their harassment could take over everything. Shape your decisions. That was when I’d decided enough was enough. I returned to Boston. I thought he was out of my life.
Then he came back.
Scotland and Robyn were a fresh start, though. I left that shit behind in Boston.
I stumbled into the swank adjoining bathroom (all marble tile and fancy fixtures), and then slowly returned to the bedroom. The view outside distracted me from dark thoughts of the past.
“Holy...” I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sea. Yesterday had been a bright, sunny day. The morning was a little gray, a mist hanging over the water. But it took nothing away from its beauty. If I were a painter, I’d sit at that window all day putting color to canvas.
Unfortunately, my painting phase had lasted exactly three days before I realized I had zero talent and I was trying to force the interest.
Movement outside caught my attention, and I saw my sister in her workout gear walking toward the house from the west. Perhaps from the beach? It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d been up at dawn running along the seafront. Probably because of me. Robyn was a runner because it helped her center her thoughts.
Thinking of my strong sister, I glanced back at the phone on the bed.
When she was fifteen, a date sexually assaulted Robyn.
She didn’t let him win. Didn’t let him make her feel weak. Instead, she empowered herself.
Robyn trained in mixed martial arts.
I’d never been interested in sports. I liked yoga and Pilates, but that was as far as I’d ever taken enforced physical activity. To be honest, I’d rather be running around, staying active in a natural, day-to-day manner.
However, eight months ago I’d begun to understand Robyn’s need to be able to defend herself.
* * *
“Morning,” I called gaily as I strolled into the kitchen.
I’d showered and dressed, hoping to catch my sister and her fiancé before they left the house.
Thankfully, they were both sitting at the island sipping coffee.
“Morning.” Robyn moved to slip off a stool. “Let me get you a coffee.”
“I can do that.” I waved her away as I maneuvered around the fancy kitchen. “I thought you might train me in MMA.”
The silence at my back made me turn around.
Robyn gaped over the brim of her coffee mug while Lachlan watched her closely.
“What?” I asked a little defensively, afraid she was already suspicious about my motives.
“You want to learn MMA?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged like it was no big deal.
“You hate martial arts. And sports in general.”
“Well,” I said, leaning against the counter, “I thought it would be a nice thing for us to do together, to spend time together.”
“That’s the only reason?” My big sister frowned, her expression concerned.
I veered just close enough to the truth that it would stall the questions. “While I was in Asia, I got cornered by this guy. If it hadn’t been for this other guy showing up, I’d hate to think what might have happened. And then seeing you reminded me you’re a badass. Just got me thinking that I should learn to defend myself.”
Robyn was already making her way to me. “Are you okay? Are you sure it wasn’t worse than what you’re saying?”
I reached for her, squeezing her hand while I smiled. “You’re such a worrier. It was just as I said.”
She studied me. “Something is off. I can tell.”
I released her hand. “Things are just weird between us, that’s all. I’m trying to move us past it. I thought spending time together would help.”
Suddenly, a coolness entered Robyn’s eyes, and she crossed her arms. “How long are you planning to stay?”
“As long as I’m legally allowed, I guess.” I glanced at Lachlan. “If that’s okay?”
He looked at Robyn. “As long as it’s okay with your sister, it’s okay with me.”
Before Robyn could respond, I hurried to say, “I’m going to get a job while I’m here, find somewhere to rent, so I’m not in your hair and, like, mooching off you and your boyfriend.”
“Fiancé.” She scowled. “And you wouldn’t be mooching. I want you here.” Where I can keep an eye on you, she didn’t say.
“Then I’ll pay rent. Once I find a job. Know where I might get one?” I queried. I wouldn’t lie, I was kind of hoping Lachlan might offer up a server gig at the estate. Or anything, really.
Instead, he said, “I’ll ask around the village.”
Did he really not have an available position?
Or did he not want me working at his elite estate?
If it was the latter, which I suspected it was, it meant he didn’t trust me.
Great.
I really had my work cut out for me.