Page 95 of The Desired Nanny
She sighed exasperatedly and nodded towards my dresser. “Is that why the signed divorce papers aren’t in the mail yet?”
“I haven’t made it to the post office yet.”
“Give me a break, Kiyah. If you wanted to, you would. You know your marriage isn’t over, just like Grant knows. You’re both hurting, and things were done and said in the heat of the moment that you both regret. You know that I’ve been where you’ve been, Ki. Losing a child isn’t easy, and the two of you should go to therapy together. Your dad and I went to therapy, and it changed our lives—it made us stronger and forced us to realize that we were better together than apart.”
“That still blows my mind.”
“What blows your mind?”
“That the two of you were on the rocks. We never knew. I don’t even remember seeing you guys fight or argue,” I mumbled.
“That’s how it should be. If we had problems, we kept them behind closed doors. We didn’t want our shit to affect y’all.”
“What would you guys fight about?”
“Does it matter? You should be worried about your own relationship instead of me and your dad.”
“Damn, okay.”
“I spoke to Grant today, and he wants you to call him.”
That’s the second time today….
“Did Grant call you?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“Like you said, if he wanted to, he would. He’s not blocked. If Grant can call everyone else, then he can call me.”
Mom sighed as she climbed to her feet to collect Rob Zombie. “I don’t know where you get this stubbornness from. Just like your shame and guilt held you back from telling Grant about the miscarriage, his shame and guilt are holding him back from reaching out. You both owe each other grace. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”
A throat cleared from the doorway. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Dad announced, sending us uneasy looks.
“Nothing at all,” Mom answered with an edge of coolness in her voice that he picked up on.
“Well, in that case, it’s time for bed, dear.”
“Goodnight, Kiyah. I hope you take what we discussed into consideration. I love you.”
“I love y—can y’all not?” I protested when they started heavily flirting in the doorway as if I didn’t exist.
I’m not a hater, but no one wants to hear their dad tell their mom not to go to sleep so he can put her to sleep! But then again, I have no room to talk when he almost caught Grant and me in the act.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered as he watched my mother sashay down the hallway in her silk champagne negligee. “Can we talk?”
“Sure,” I agreed, pulling myself up against the headboard. Uneasiness washed over me because I had a feeling where the conversation might go. He stood instead of sitting and folded his arms over his chest while avoiding my gaze.
“Divorce is never easy, no matter who initiates it. For me, rebuilding after the divorce was the most challenging. Here I was with three young children—”
“Get to the point where you kick me out.”
For a moment, he seemed stunned that I caught onto their good cop, bad cop routine.
“Baby, we’re not kicking you out. We just want you to pick yourself back up. You can’t confine yourself to your bedroom for the rest of your life—make friends, get a job—”
“I have a job,” I blurted, surprising us both.
He tilted his head to the side and asked, “You have a job?”
