The Nanny with the Skull Tattoos (10 page)

Chloe twisted in her seat, planting a tiny hand on his thigh. “What did you get, Daddy?” She plucked at a corner of the wrapping paper.

Max peeled away a strip of paper. It curled, rolled up, and fell to the floor. He watched it settle onto the carpet.

“I’ll help you, Daddy,” Chloe said. She gripped the torn edges and pulled. The paper screeched as it ripped. Light reflected off of plastic cellophane. For a moment, he couldn’t see what it was. Then his daughter and Nicole leaned over him, blotting out the overhead light from the ceiling. His fingers curled around the thick edges of the box as he read the words.

“It’s the collector’s edition,” Nicole said. “It’s even got a limited edition controller.” She tapped the box with manicured fingers, French tips glinting in the light.

He stared at the video game. It had probably cost her almost a hundred dollars. He swallowed hard.

“You still play, right?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

Chloe beat on the box that was splattered in fake blood and an array of guns with her hands like a drum. “What’s this, Daddy?”

Max brushed a stray strand of hair from his daughter’s face. “Nothing,” he told her. “Thank you,” he said to Nicole.

“Smile,” his mother crooned, lifting the camera to her face.

The flash blew out bright, dazzling him. When it was over, Max blinked, spots dancing in front of his eyes, obstructing the rest of the living room from his view.

“Let’s open your gift from Mommy,” Nicole said to Chloe. “Eggs, hand me that present.” She pointed to the final gift underneath the tree. Max rolled his eyes at the nickname for the hundredth time that evening. Xavier sat cross-legged on the floor next to his and Max’s nieces. Avoiding Max’s gaze, he handed the wrapped box to Nicole. She slid it onto Chloe’s lap.

The little girl’s eyelids slid closed and her head lolled onto Max’s shoulder.

“Come on, Chloe,” Nicole said, nudging her with an elbow.

“I think she’s out for the count, Nikki,” Max said, brushing discarded wrapping paper from Chloe’s legs.

“It’s the last one,” Nicole said, a whine lacing her voice. She shook Chloe’s shoulder. “Come on¸ baby girl. Open up your present.”

Chloe’s eyelids fluttered open. She glanced around the room, blinking. Swatting at the air, she arched her back. The wrapped box slid onto the floor. Her face scrunched up, and Max’s eyes widened.

“Leave her alone, Nicole,” he warned.

“It’s Christmas,” Nicole said, plucking the gift from the carpet. She plopped it back on Chloe’s lap.

Whining, Chloe squirmed.

“Here, I’ll help you,” Nicole said. She peeled a corner of wrapping paper off, then tapped the box. “Come on, Chloe. Mommy got you a really cool present.”

The little girl shrieked and shoved the box back onto the floor. Throwing her arms up, she flung herself off the couch, her scream cutting through the conversations buzzing around the room. Max’s family turned in unison and gaped at her. Her face reddened and she cried against the carpet.

“She’s tired,” Max explained, standing from the couch. He picked her up from the floor and hugged her to his chest. She kicked at his thighs, her screaming piercing his ears. Wincing, he rubbed circles into her back.

Nicole sighed and ripped the rest of the wrapping paper off of the box. She held it up for Chloe to see. “Look, Chloe,” she said over the toddler’s wailing. “Look what Mommy got you.”

Chloe cried even harder. Max turned to see what the gift was and frowned. Five scrawny fashion dolls posed from behind a plastic window. Their skin ranged in color from purple to pale blue. The one in the center was apparently male, but looked more like he had been locked in a freezer than anything human. The only doll with a human skin tone had strange bumps lining her face, as if she had some kind of body modification. Max’s eyebrows aimed toward the ceiling.

“They’re pretty little monsters,” Nicole crooned. She ripped the box open and wrestled one of the dolls from its packaging. An arm popped off as she pulled it free. Grimacing, Nicole plucked the arm from the floor and tried to plug it back into its plastic socket. She wiggled it around. Plastic clicked but the arm didn’t lock. Shrugging, she held the doll out to Chloe. As it moved through the air, one of the doll’s shoes fell off.

“Yeah, that’s not a choking hazard,” Max muttered under his breath. Chloe stopped crying, her eyebrows scrunching together as she examined the doll from afar. Then, her face wound into a frown. Her mouth twisted open and she let out a long wail. Smacking the doll from Nicole’s hand, she pressed her face into Max’s shoulder.

“Scary,” she sobbed.

“It’s cool,” Nicole said, picking up the doll from the floor. She shoved it into Chloe’s face. “See? She has a little purse. Look at her clothes.”

Max sighed. “She doesn’t like it, Nikki.”

“Give it a chance,” Nicole said, ignoring him.

“Let it go,” Max said, his voice hardening.

Nicole glared at him. “What did
you
get her? I didn’t see her open a single thing from you tonight.”

Rubbing Chloe’s back, Max began pacing the length of the couch. “Santa came last night,” he said. “Right, Chloe?” She nodded against his shoulder, her sobs drifting as her fatigue deepened.

“I want Nana,” Chloe whispered, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“What did she say?” Nicole asked, leaning closer. “Do you want the doll, baby girl?”

“She doesn’t want it, Nicole,” Max said, twisting away from her. He scowled. “Why don’t you get that?”

“Hey, guys, it’s Christmas,” one of Max’s sisters-in-law said. With his back turned to the rest of the room, he couldn’t see which one.

“I am
so
not having kids until there’s a ring on my finger,” another muttered. Max guessed it was Levi’s girlfriend, Brianna. He opened his mouth to tell her to shut up, but before he could, his brother interrupted.

“Speaking of rings and babies,” Isaiah said, “we have an announcement.”

Max turned. Isaiah and his wife Crystal stood at the head of the room, twin smiles streaking their faces.

“We’re pregnant,” Crystal said before anyone could guess.

The room erupted. The rest of his family swarmed them. Even Nicole joined the circle.

“Congratulations, Izzy,” Nicole said, using yet another family nickname. Max ground his teeth together. Kicking the monstrous doll to the side, he sat back down on the couch and rocked Chloe to sleep.

* * * * *

Finally, the gathering ended. Max rose from the couch with a sleeping Chloe attached to him. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for what he was about to say. “I’ll give you a ride home, Nicole,” he said to her over his shoulder. He padded toward the front hall, already wrestling his car keys from his pocket with one hand. He shoved his feet into his sneakers, pulled Chloe’s coat onto her arm by arm, and donned his hoodie. “Goodnight,” he called to his family. Then, bracing himself against the cold, he pulled open the front door and stepped outside.

Dark night pressed down on him. The navy sky held a tint of orange, the promise of snow in the air. He shivered and hurried toward the Taurus, each step solidifying his resolve. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Nicole followed him. She darted from the house, bags full of the gifts she had received dangling from her arms.

Max strapped Chloe into her car seat and jumped into the driver’s side. He turned on the car and blasted the heat. Someday, he promised himself, he would buy a car that heated up instantly—or at least one that came with a remote starter.

Nicole slid into the passenger’s seat, tucking the bags on the floor at her feet. “Well, that was interesting,” she said, laughing.

“Where do you live?” he asked, pulling away from his parents’ house.

“Someone’s grumpy,” she said, but gave him the address. He headed toward the North End neighborhood, wondering whether Nicole lived alone or if she had a boyfriend. Shaking his head, he chastised himself. It didn’t matter. He didn’t want her, and he needed to make sure that it was clear that he wasn’t interested. Next to him, Nicole cleared her throat.

“What?” he asked.

“Sorry tonight didn’t go so well,” she said.

He shrugged in the darkness. “Typical family gathering.”

“They’re great, though.” Nicole put her hand on his thigh. He froze, his hands clenching the steering wheel to keep from slapping her hand away.

“What are you doing?” he asked from between clenched teeth.

“I miss you guys,” she said. “I miss
you
.”

He decided that she didn’t have a boyfriend. Rolling his eyes, he pressed down harder on the gas pedal. The faster he got to her house, the sooner he could be rid of her. “What’s done is done, Nikki,” he said.

“Does it really have to be? I mean, I’ve been working really hard to get myself together.” Her grip on his thigh tightened. Even through his thick jeans, he could feel the warmth of her hand.

“Can you not do that, especially while I’m driving?” he rumbled.

She sighed and pulled her hand away. “Don’t you miss me?”

“Nicole, I haven’t missed you since I walked out of that courtroom,” he said, his heart racing in his chest.

“Ouch,” she said. “Why do you have to be such an asshole?”

Max snorted. “Of course.
I’m
the asshole. I’m just the one who’s been raising our daughter.” He rolled to a stop at a red light. “Do you even know anything about her, Nicole?”

“Of course I do,” she said. “She’s my baby.”

“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at her. “What’s her favorite TV show?”

“That’s not important,” Nicole said.

“No? Then why did you get her those weird ass dolls? Did you even look at the suggested age group?” The light turned green and he floored the gas pedal.

“I thought they were cool,” Nicole said. “Jeez, lay off.”

“Why did you come tonight?” he asked as he turned onto her street.

“What kind of question is that? I wanted to see my daughter.”

Cars parked crookedly along the street, facing all different directions. Garbage glittered on the crumbling sidewalks like tinsel. As he drove down the street, he thought he saw a hypodermic needle glinting in the headlights. Tiny empty dime bags and frozen discarded diapers formed snowmen at the curbs. Her neighborhood made his look like a palace.

“How many times have you seen her since she was born?” Max asked, slowing as he scanned the numbers on the houses.

Nicole sighed. She shifted in her seat and said nothing.

“That’s my point, Nicole.” He stopped in front of a three-family house. He eyed the steep stairs leading up to the porch. “Is this it?” he asked.

“It’s a few more down,” she said. He moved the car forward. She put her hand on his thigh again. “Wanna come upstairs?”

Slamming on the brakes, he jerked his leg away. “Are you insane? Why would I want to come upstairs with you?” Blood slammed in his ears. Heat flared across his cheekbones. He gritted his teeth.

“To talk,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. She leaned toward him, dropping her voice. “To work things out.” She brushed his ear with her lips.

He held his hands up, not exactly pushing her away, but blocking her from touching him again. “Nicole, get out of my car.”

“What did I do?” she asked, body freezing mid-movement.

Max snorted. “Let me make it really clear for you, okay? I don’t want to get back together with you.” He pulled over and threw the car into park, turning on his signal light. It lit up the street, flashing across the windshields of the dark, parked cars.

“Why not?” she asked. “We have a daughter together.”

“Nicole, even if by some crazy chance I was still in love with you, even if things didn’t go down the way they did, you don’t even know her. She hasn’t seen you since she was little, yet you just strolled in tonight like everything is okay between all of us.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You keep breaking her heart, over and over again.”

“Give me another chance, Max,” she said, running her fingers through his hair.

He caught her wrist with one hand and shoved her arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she whined. “I’m just trying to work things out.”

“With me or with Chloe?” he asked, glaring at her. His throat tightened, anguish replacing his outrage.

“With both of you,” she said. “Can’t I have my family back?”

“We could have been a family,” he said, his voice breaking. “You ruined that. If you want any chance of having a relationship with our daughter—if you’re actually even serious—you’re going to have to do a lot better than showing up on Christmas Day with a toy she can’t even play with.”

“I hate you,” she spat in his face. Throwing open her door, she flung the bags full of gifts onto the sidewalk. Brand new toys and clothes skidded across the concrete, joining the rest of the garbage. Nicole stomped out of the car. Weaving around the strewn gifts, she pounded toward the stairs.

In the back seat, Chloe stirred. “Mommy?” she called, her small voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Tears sprang to Max’s eyes as Nicole stomped up the stairs. She threw the front door open, stepped inside, and slammed it shut without even turning around.

“Mommy!” Chloe cried. She kicked her feet against the back of Max’s seat. “Mama, Mommy, Mama,” she called.

Heart pounding in his chest, Max watched the front door, holding his breath. The seconds slipped by. Cold air swirled into the car through the open door, despite the heater. Seconds turned into minutes, and still Nicole didn’t come back out.

“Mommy?” Chloe called one last time.

When the front porch remained motionless for a full five minutes, Max gave up. Nicole wasn’t even going to say goodnight to her daughter.

Tucking Chloe into her comforter, Max leaned down and kissed her forehead. Her skin was warm and soft. She sighed in her sleep, and he straightened. He watched as she wiggled around, getting more comfortable. Her toes nearly reached the other end of the crib. Soon he would need to buy her a toddler bed. His heart twisted at the thought of his daughter being too big for her crib. Her lips moved in her sleep and her head lolled to the side. Her chest rose up and down. A twinge ripped through Max, and he shuddered.

It wasn’t fair that her mother had to be such a mess. He leaned on the railing, watching as Chloe sank into deeper sleep. Nicole had been right about one thing. They
could
have been a family. He swallowed hard. Chloe deserved to have her father
and
her mother. It wasn’t fair. He wished Nicole would either grow up or get out of their lives entirely.

He wondered if he had made the right decision. Maybe he should have let Nicole put her up for adoption. Then, at least, Chloe would have a whole family that loved her. She wouldn’t be living in a crappy neighborhood across from a bodega, with a father who couldn’t get his own life together.

Guilt scraped at the pit of his stomach. Max hung his head. He had failed Chloe, in so many ways. Maybe he
should
have agreed to get back together with Nicole, he surmised. A broken family was better than none at all.

He stepped away from Chloe’s crib and tiptoed out of her room. Leaving the door open a crack, he stepped into the hall. The floor creaked underneath his feet. His eyes darted to Savannah’s bedroom door. The house had been dark when he got home. No light shined from underneath her door, but her car was outside. She had probably gone to bed early.

The stubble on his face itched. He was glad that he had decided not to invite Savannah to his parents’ house. The evening would have been even more awkward. Still, he hoped that she wasn’t mad at him. He would have to make sure he spent some time with her the next day. He had managed to make a total mess of his life in less than six hours at his parents’ house. He needed to focus on the good things and forget about Nicole.

Still, he worried. As he padded into his own room, he wondered what was best for Chloe. At two years old, she didn’t really understand, but she knew that Nicole was her mother. Every interaction would just make things worse if Nicole continued to be in and out of her life. Max sighed and closed his bedroom door. He should have tried harder to work things out with Nicole. He didn’t want to date her, but he could have taken the time to talk to her some more. After all, she had taken some initiative, coming to his parents’ house.

He cringed as he thought of the other ways she had been proactive. He wondered what would have happened if he and Savannah hadn’t slept together the night before. If he was still sexually deprived, he probably would have gone upstairs with Nicole. Memories flashed through him again, slicing through his mind like a knife through water. The first time they had sex, neither of them had any idea what they were doing. He went on instinct alone, lust driving his movements.

He opened his eyes wide, blinking away the memories. Pulling off his jeans, he dressed for bed. As he settled underneath the covers, he pushed away all thoughts of Nicole. He had a new life now, and she wasn’t part of it. Maybe they could work something out—if Nicole was actually serious about seeing Chloe—and set up some kind of visitation. Years later, he could still smell the musty courtroom if he closed his eyes.

Yawning, he shook away the memories once more. Sleep rolled over him, and he forgot about Nicole—until the dreams set in.

Minutes roared by as he fell helplessly through a black abyss. His limbs floated out around him. Unease surged through his system. Wind rushed by his cheeks. He stretched his fingers out, grasping for something to hold onto. Empty air passed him. He fell faster.

A scream vibrated through his throat.

He landed hard in a pile of something soft. Relief swept through him, then halted. His body felt numb, and his arms and legs wouldn’t move. The blankets that he landed in covered his face, pressing down on his nose and mouth. His lungs ached for air, but when he breathed in, nothing happened. His chest fluttered and his head spun. If he didn’t breathe soon, he would die.

He willed his arms to move, even just a finger. Not even a twitch. Screaming, he used all of his might to make himself move, to save himself from suffocation.

He woke up, thrashing in bed. He gasped, sucking in a long breath of air. Gulping breath after breath as if it were water and he had just come out of the desert, Max opened his eyes. His heart raced in his chest. Darkness pressed down on him—but it was a familiar darkness. From the streetlight filtering in through the window, he could make out the shapes of his furniture and half-emptied boxes.

Sighing, he rolled onto his back. He rubbed at his face with his hands. His fingers moved normally, no numbness imprisoning them. He breathed slowly through his nose, inhaling and exhaling. The dream clung to him like a spider’s web, but each clean breath brought him further and further away from it.

Max swallowed hard. Throwing the covers to the side, he slid out of bed. He padded down the hall toward Chloe’s room. Pushing her door open, he peeked inside.

She lay in her crib, on her back, her arms thrown up over her head. Dark lashes rested against her cheeks. Her lips drooped, relaxed, slightly curved at the edges. Whatever she was dreaming about was peaceful. Max inhaled again through his nose, slowly, deliberately drawing the air in as if through a straw. Then he released it, taking his time with the exhale. He crossed the room, pressed his lips to Chloe’s forehead, then retreated back to his own room.

Back in his bed, he rolled onto his side. Icy panic still gripped him. He stared into the darkness.

* * * * *

Night rolled slowly into morning, the sky outside lightening gradually as if by a hairdresser. At seven in the morning, Max gave up on sleep. He rolled out of bed, pushing his hair down. He didn’t need a mirror to know that it stuck up in all directions. Pulling on a pair of sweats, he shuffled across the floor. As he neared the door, he shivered in the hazy light.

Pushing open his door, he padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Sniffing the air, he frowned. Usually, Savannah got up before him and brewed coffee. He pursed his lips and pressed forward. The apartment settled around him, quiet and cold. Chloe still slept, offering him at least a little reprieve. She didn’t usually get up until around eight.

He padded into the kitchen. Savannah sat at the table, her hands cupped around her phone. When he entered, she looked up at him. Black strands of hair fell around her face. She wore a tee shirt and a worn, fuzzy bathrobe, its belt half tied around her waist.

“Good—” The words caught in his throat as the expression on Savannah’s face registered in his mind.

She glared at him, brown eyes steady and hard. Her lips quivered.

Max swallowed hard. “Or bad morning,” he said. He took another step into the kitchen, his eyes flicking toward the coffee maker. With one quick sweep, he took stock of the scene. The can of coffee grounds sat on the counter, still open. The package of filters sat next to it. “Broken?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward the machine.

Savannah’s eyes teared up. Without a word, she wrapped her fingers around her phone. Drawing her arm back, she flicked her wrist, pitching the phone forward. It arced through the air, spinning as it hurtled toward Max. His eyes widened. He had never been good at sports. If he didn’t catch it, though, it would break. He lunged forward, his bare feet slipping on the cold floor. He reached out with both hands, clapped them together, and brought them into his chest.

The phone’s corner jabbed into his skin. He grunted. Looking up, he watched as Savannah’s glare deepened. Slowly, he pulled the phone away from his chest. He held it up. His lips parted to ask her why she had thrown it at him. As he brought it into the air, though, the screen caught his attention. A photo of him, Chloe, and Nicole sitting on the couch rotated as he turned the phone. Chloe sat between them, and Nicole rested her head on his shoulder.

His eyebrows crinkled. He scrolled through the rest of the photos. There were several of the three of them, and even one of Nicole getting into Max’s car. He closed his eyes for a moment, his heart pounding. He had no idea how Savannah could have gotten those pictures. Nicole couldn’t have known about Savannah, and wouldn’t have sent them to her. His mother didn’t know about Savannah, either.

Opening his eyes, he scrolled through the small collection of photos again. A notification slid into view on the screen. One of Savannah’s friends had commented on one of her statuses. Max’s breath caught in his throat. Of
course
his mother had posted the photos and tagged him. He and Savannah had added each other as friends almost right away, if only to share photos of Chloe while he was at work.

He groaned. Holding up the phone again, he looked Savannah in the eyes. “Is this what you’re upset about?”

She growled something in Spanish at him, and he flinched. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table. The muscles in her arm twitched, threatening to roll the table over at him.

“Easy,” he said. “I can explain.”

She fired something else at him, words that he couldn’t understand. They sliced his skin just the same.

Dropping his arms, he sank against the counter. He took a deep breath. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Is this why you wouldn’t invite me to your parents’?” she spat at him in English. Her chest heaved. The bathrobe hung all the way open, exposing the thermal sleep shirt that fell to her mid thighs. She yanked it shut, crossing her arms over her chest.

Max flinched again. “No, I just figured you didn’t need to suffer through dinner, too.”

“Who is she?” Savannah asked. Despite the angry weight of her words, tears dribbled down her cheeks.

Swallowing hard, Max put the phone down on the table. He lifted his hands, as if showing a police officer that he wasn’t armed. “She’s Chloe’s mother,” he said.

Savannah scowled. “Of
course
she is.”

“Come on, Savannah. What do you think is going on?”

She spit something in Spanish at him, her words running together. Even if he could understand Spanish, he would never be able to keep up with her. He felt as if a cold tornado blew against him. He retreated, taking a step back, cringing as the storm continued. Her words swirled through the kitchen, hitting him square in the chest.

When she finished, he let the silence settle for a moment. Then, he held up his hands again. “You’re mad. I get that.”

She slammed her fists on the table. “You’re a two-timing son of a bitch,” she said.

His shoulders sank. “That’s what you think?”

She stomped past him, snatching her phone from the table on her way out of the kitchen. She threw open her bedroom door. Max stood at the counter for a moment, wondering whether he should just continue on with his morning and make them both some coffee, or if he should try to do more damage control. He swallowed hard. He couldn’t think of a single time when Savannah had been angry—with him or anyone else. He had no idea what to say to placate her.

The few times his parents had argued, he remembered, his father had bought his mother a new pair of Dolce sunglasses or a Michael Kors bag. Max bit his lower lip. Flat broke, he couldn’t even buy her a ring from a candy machine. Sighing, he left the kitchen and padded toward her room.

Before he could say anything else, though, she brushed past him. She wore her boots and coat, and carried only her purse. Car keys in her hand, she stomped through the living room. Ripping the door wide open, cold air slamming into the room, she shot outside. She pulled the door shut behind her.

Max ran to the door and wrenched it open. Savannah jumped into her car and turned it on. “Wait,” he called into the frosty morning.

The engine revved, drowning out his words. She pulled out of her parallel parking spot and, without even glancing back, sped away.

Max watched as her car disappeared from view. He sagged against the door frame, his heart twisting in his chest.