Stuck With You: A Sweet Romantic Comedy

Part 7

Timo

I don't know what came over me. One second, I was playfully jostling Bianca, causing her to get mint chocolate chip ice cream on her mouth, and the next second I was taking the cone from her grasp and leaning in to kiss her.

I was a nanosecond away from making contact when from the opposite side of the play structure housing the slide, Marta set up a hew and cry.

"There are wet wipes in the diaper bag," I said as I sprang to my feet.

Bianca just stared at me as if she'd never heard of a wet wipe.

"For your mouth," I said, then rushed over to the bottom of the slide where Marta was lying in the woodchips and wailing her head off.

"What happened?" I asked Morty. At least there was no blood. I didn't want to have to make a second trip to the emergency room in one day.

"Marta hit her head," Morty told me. He was still trying to keep his chin still while he spoke, which made him look pretty comical, but I wasn't in the mood to laugh.

I still had yet to hear back from the series of decreasingly frantic texts I'd sent Rob about having to take Morty to the emergency room for stitches. I didn't want to think about how Camille was taking that news. There was a reason I'd texted Rob. Hopefully, he'd break it to Camille gently that one of their children had required emergency medical care.

If I had to send an amendment saying that Marta had a concussion, I wasn't going to still be a nanny for long.

Fortunately, Marta's wails were already tapering off, and closer inspection revealed that she'd sustained only a slight knock to her head.

"Don't be such a crybaby," said Franny, who'd seen the whole thing.

"Don't name call," I said, but I suspected that Franny's assessment of the situation was about right.

While I was wiping Marta's tears and sending Morty off to rummage through my messenger bag for the obligatory consolation gummy worm, I finally heard back from Rob.

How's Morty?

Good. All stitched up. Just got ice cream

Glad to hear it

Sorry about that

Not your fault

It wasn't really my fault. I knew that. It was just one of those things that happen with kids, but it didn't keep me from feeling bad about it.

Still sorry about it, though

Camille says to tell you not to worry

Thanks

She also wants to know how you're getting along with Bianca

Fine

Just fine?

I didn't know what to reply to that, so I didn't, but Rob, or rather Camille, wasn't done grilling me.

Camille wants to know what you think of Bianca?

The kids are having a great time with her

What about you?

I don't know what you're getting at

I knew exactly what Rob and Camille were getting at, but I was determined not to get sucked into their little game. Rob was texting again.

Don't propose right away