Page 19 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

“Sorry.”

“No, I hate my trainer. That’s a good thing.”

When we pass by the Wellness and Beauty department, Willa places her hand on my arm for half a second, and I feel things that I haven’t felt in ages. “Have you tried lavender essential oil?”

I shake my head. “For what?”

“Insomnia. You should get an essential oil burner.”

I let her guide the front of the cart down the aisle and listen to her explain in a sing-song voice about aromatherapy and how breathing in the scent molecules of lavender essential oil can transmit signals to my limbic system to relieve stress and promote deep, relaxing sleep. She doesn’t harass me about it the way Margo does. She just presents me with the information and lets me decide for myself if I want it.

I want it.

I’ll take it.

“Do you have a current driver’s license?”

She blinks at the abrupt change of subject as she places a burner, tea lights, and essential oil in my cart. “I do.”

“How’s your driving history?”

“Minimal but fantastic. I went to college in Ithaca, so I didn’t have to drive much there, and I sometimes drove the kids around in France, but not much. I’ve been driving Nico’s truck here.”

“His old Nissan pickup?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“Well, I’d have to rent you a car if you’re going to drive my kids around.”

She shrugs. “Okay.” She looks up, directly into my eyes, for the first time since we’ve been walking around the store. “So, you really want to do this?”

Yes.

Fucking hell, I need this woman in my life.

I’ll take her any way that I can have her. Dick in pants. Heart on lockdown.

My kids need this woman in their lives.

I can make this work.

I can sell this to my ex-wife.

Margo loves this natural beauty, aromatherapy shit. She fancies herself a Gwyneth Paltrow for millennials. She will eat this girl up in a totally different way from how I want to.

“Well listen, I’ll have to talk to Margo, and then you’ll have to Skype with her, but I really need a nanny, like yesterday. This could definitely work. Ifyou’rereally interested.”

“Do you want me to meet the kids first too, though? Make sure they like me?”

“Oh, they won’t like you. They’ve never liked any of their nannies or babysitters.”

She guffaws. “Seriously?”

“It shouldn’t affect the way you do your job.”

I have now replaced all of the food items that my daughter transferred to the kitchen floor this morning and push the cart over to checkout. I don’t think about how easy it is to talk to Willa, and I don’t think about how good I feel, and I don’t dwell on how impossible it will be to restrain myself from kissing her. I just ask her to stay in line with the cart while I go over to the floral section and pick out the flowers that I saw her inhaling when I walked in. Back in the good old days, when I didn’t know she was Nico’s sister. I grab all of them. Five bunches of these sweet and peppery-smelling blooms.

When I place them on the checkout counter, she smiles and helps me place everything from the cart onto the counter. We don’t say anything until the cashier scans the five bouquets and I take them from her to present them to Willa. “For you. Welcome to Los Angeles.”