Page 102 of Never Bargain with the Boss
“All of it.”
Cameron throws his head back as he laughs from deep in his belly. His face is so relaxed and full of life, no sign that a frown has ever turned his mouth down. It’s a truly beautiful sight. When he sees me grinning at him, he arches a brow. “What?”
“Nothing. You look happy. I like it.”
He bends down to place a kiss to my cheek, then he whispers in my ear, “I am happy, and it’s because of you. From the moment we met, that’s all you’ve done… make me happy. I just needed you.”
“Bullshit,” I counter, pushing at him playfully. “You already told me what you thought when we met, and it definitely wasn’t that ‘you needed me’ despite your being in actual, desperate need of a nanny. I had to bargain with you, wheeling and dealing for a three-month trial period, remember?”
He hums, tilting his head like he’s thinking back. And then he shakes his head. “No, that doesn’t ring a bell at all. I just remember thinking… wow.” He purses his lips, trying in vain to hide his smile.
“Speaking of, we’ll have to renegotiate that deal,” I tease. “If I’m not just the nanny…” I trail off.
“You were never ‘just the nanny’, bang or otherwise. And now, you’ll be mine. And Grace’s. And we’ll be yours.”
There will still be more to figure out, but we’ll get there. First things first, though…
“Let’s go home,” I say, burrowing into his arms. Then, I hold up a finger, correcting myself. “Wait, Starbucks and then home.”
Cameron rolls his eyes. “I am so screwed.” I glare at him, and he relents all too easily. “I’ll do the drive-thru and meet you at home.”
“Deal!” I shout and then push him away to get in my car. “Extra whipped cream on mine and Grace’s, okay?”
It’slate afternoon by the time we get to sit down with Grace. Much to her consternation, Cole and Janey made her go to school today, saying that she’d already missed one day this week and couldn’t miss another.
It gave me time to realize that Cameron missed work too, because I’d been so caught up in… well,him, that I hadn’t thought about it. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, because while I did laundry and rearranged his closet, he was right with me, giving me more room than I could ever need.
Finally, it’s the three of us in the living room, Grace on one couch and Cameron and me on another.
“Grace, I know you said you were okay with me and Riley dating, but I… I mean,we,” Cameron corrects, taking my hand in his, “want to talk to you about it a bit more in-depth.”
“Yeah, I was thinking, I have a mom,” Grace says, sounding thoughtful, and I grip Cameron’s hand tighter. “So I can’t callyou that. But what about Miley? Or Momley? I think that’s probably the best option, huh?”
I blink. I can’t have heard her right. Is she making up names to call me, blending Mom and Riley in some DJ-style, mixed-up amalgamation? But she’s looking back at me expectantly, waiting for my opinion. “Uh, there might be aRenesmeesituation there,” I say gently.
“Who or what’s aRenesmee?” Grace asks, looking confused at the mouthful of a name.
“Exactly,” I tell her, the sound of a whole generation of readers saying ‘what?’ in my head. “Why don’t you call me whatever you want, and if it changes over time, that’s okay too? I’m fine with Riley, or anything else.”
“Alright, we’ll workshop it,” she says agreeably before clapping her hands. “So, we good here?” She points from herself to us, apparently done with our big check-in conversation to make sure she’s fine with this new progression of our relationship. “I told Liam I’d call him tonight so we can study for our history test. We’re gonna ruin the curve for everyone else by getting As.” She sounds a little too gleeful about that, but I can’t fault her for getting a good grade by studying hard.
But Cameron needs more reassurance. He’s focused on Grace her whole life, and I understand he would never do anything that might make her uncomfortable or feel pushed out of that number-one spot in his life. I wouldn’t want that either.
“Grace, I want you to know that you can always talk to me, or Riley, or any of the family if you need to. We all want what’s best for you and love you very much,” Cameron says, and I nod along, dittoing that.
“Dad,” she says, giving him a mock-pitying look, “thisis exactly what I wanted all along. I knew you’d make it happen.” With that, she hops up and holds her pinky finger out to him. “Pinky promise, I’m good if you’re good.”
He lifts his finger, wrapping it around hers. “I’m more than good,” he tells her, his eyes meeting mine. That, partnered with his smile, is a big, neon, blinking sign that he’s happy with how things have turned out.
Then the best thing happens… Grace holds her pinky out to me. I loop mine around hers, tears burning at the corners of my eyes. I can’t hold them back, and Grace wipes her fingers across my cheek as she rolls her eyes. “Geez, Riley. It’s just a pinky promise. It's not that big of a deal. Touch grass or something.”
But she’s smiling too so I know it means as much to her as it does to me. Teenagers—and almost teenagers—are volatile creatures, sometimes so deeply embedded in their emotions that you can’t drag them out, and other times, just fine skating over the surface of life. It seems Grace is in one of the latter moods. For the moment. But that could change at the drop of a hat, or the blow of the wind, or any other thing. Such is the joy of growing up.
When she runs up the stairs, Cameron leans my way. “What does that mean? Touch grass?”
I laugh. “It’s literal. Come on, I’ll show you.”
I grab a blanket from the couch and lead Cameron out back to the yard, where I sit down on the cold, hard ground. “It’s artificial grass, but it’ll have to do,” I say dryly. “Sit down.”