The Nanny with the Skull Tattoos by Elizabeth Barone

something, though.” He joined her at the counter. “I feel like an ass.”
    She snorted. “Don’t worry about it.”
    He drummed his fingers on the counter, his eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong, then?”
    Savannah shook her head, but she stirred faster.
    “Is it because of last night? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He swallowed hard, his heart slamming in his chest.
    Licking her lips, she stopped stirring. She put a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t hurt me, Max. Chill out.” At her touch, Max’s shoulders relaxed, but only a little. Turning back to the breakfast, she finished stirring and poured the ingredients into a sauce pan. Pulling open the drawer, she retrieved a whisk.
    Max whistled. “Did you move in with all of these fancy things?” He remembered the wad of money in her underwear drawer. If she had so much money, she didn’t need to work for him. He crossed his arms.
    “Something like that,” she said, her back still to him. “This should be ready soon.”
    Sighing, he stepped away. “I’ll go get Chloe.” He padded into the living room, his mind racing. He had no idea what he had done wrong, but she was definitely acting differently. He shook his head at himself. Sleeping with her might just have been a huge mistake. Pausing in the hall, he rubbed his temples. The night replayed in his mind, the way she had writhed and moaned underneath him, her arms around his neck the whole time. She had broken eye contact only when she kissed him, and while he ran his fingers down her arm with the skull tattoos.
    He didn’t think she had been drunk the night before. It was possible that she just regretted the whole thing. Things might be awkward between them, or she might just quit altogether. Max shut his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool white wall. Leave it to him to mess up yet another good thing.
    Pulling himself together, he lifted his head from the wall. He continued into the living room. He scooped Chloe up from the floor. Resolving to act like everything was normal, he carried his daughter into the kitchen and strapped her into her high chair. Savannah carried a steaming bowl of the Puerto Rican breakfast over and put it down in front of Chloe.
    “ Feliz navidad , baby girl,” she said, touching Chloe’s nose with the pad of her finger. Chloe giggled. Returning to the counter, Savannah grabbed two more bowls. She brought them both to the table and sat down.
    Max sat down across from her. He lifted his spoon, sifting through the mixture. It reminded him of pudding and oatmeal.
    “It’s not poison,” Savannah said, lifting a spoonful to her lips.
    Max froze. “I didn’t think it was,” he stammered, the back of his neck burning. He shoved a spoonful into his mouth, his tongue searing. He swallowed quickly. “It’s great,” he said, even though he barely tasted it going down.
    Savannah said nothing.
    They ate breakfast in silence. Max stared at his bowl, watching as the porridge level went lower and lower. The second he finished, he jumped up and carried his bowl to the sink. Then he turned to Chloe.
    His daughter wore most of her breakfast. She sucked on two fingers, humming to herself. “Chloe,” he groaned. Lifting her from the high chair, he held her out in front of him and marched her into the bathroom.
    He didn’t have time to think about Savannah while he cleaned his daughter up. Despite all of the fun that Chloe had opening her gifts, she was suddenly in a cranky mood. Before she even had a toe in the water, she started screaming and thrashing. Getting her into the tub took a lot of coaxing and soothing. Face red, eyes streaming, Chloe looked up at him with an expression that could only be betrayal. While she soaked in the warm water, he scrubbed the drying porridge off her face and hands. Some of it had even slipped underneath her shirt, trailing down her chest.
    After a while, her crying died down to soft sobs. By the time he started rinsing her, she had calmed